Rook

of you heard that, and I mean it,” she said in as deadly a tone as she could muster up in her pajamas.
That skinless piece of shit said that if anyone knew he and I had been speaking, he’d kill Bronwyn. Obviously, I can’t expect him not to kill her anyway, but I don’t want to take any more risks than I have to.
“In fact, you two are my bodyguards for the foreseeable future. No replacements. And you,” she said to the quaking communications kid.
    “Pawn Alan Summerhill,” said Ingrid discreetly.
    “Pawn Alan Summerhill, how vital are you to the tracking of this telephone call?” asked Myfanwy.
    “Well, it’s my fourth day,” he ventured.
    “Are you some sort of indispensable wunderkind whose presence would make a profound difference to the call tracing?”
    “No…”
    “Fine. Then you’ll be accompanying us to Reading,” said Myfanwy. “You will speak no word of what you have heard in this room to anyone, and you will not leave my sight without permission. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, Rook Thomas,” he said, trembling.
    “Good. Ingrid, is the incident contained?” asked Myfanwy. “Is it discreet?”
    “It’s a police station” came the answer.
    “Fuuuuck,” said one of the security guards, and everyone looked at him. “I used to be a cop,” he said defensively.
    Ingrid went on. “The police station is in the middle of the town and they have had the good sense to seal off the building. The portable operation centers should be ready by the time we get there.”
    “Any other details?” asked Myfanwy.
    “The Barghests are mobilizing, and we’ll rendezvous with them at the site,” said Ingrid. “Gentlemen,” she said to the bodyguards, “you’ll be acting as on-site security for the Rook.” She went to her desk and came back holding her coat and a laptop in a case.
    “What are you doing?” asked Myfanwy.
    “I’m coming with you,” said Ingrid. “The helicopter will be here in seven minutes.”
    “Okay, but—”
    “Rook Thomas, you’re still in your pajamas. You may want to go upstairs and change. And don’t forget to bring a jacket.”
    “Fine,” said Myfanwy with a sigh, swinging open another portrait and going up to the apartment. Behind her, one of the large bodyguards had trouble squeezing up the stairway and had to be pushed by the other one.
    I t was very different being in a helicopter with Ingrid, a terrified neophyte Pawn, and two large bodyguards, as opposed to just Shantay. People’s knees kept bumping and Li’l Pawn Alan (as she’d taken to calling him in her head) was crushed between the large bodyguards, both of whom looked as if they were about to be violently ill. Ingrid was reading rapidly off her laptop. Myfanwy was wearing a pair of large sunglasses and listening to the appalling reports that were coming in.
    “The Reading police have set up cordons at a fair distance,” said Ingrid.
    “And beyond the cordons?” asked Myfanwy.
    “Let me see,” said Ingrid, scanning through reams of text. “Okay,yes. Well, there are a few people hanging around, but not many. They can easily be dispersed, either with official announcements or, if necessary, tear gas.”
    “Well, that’s something. What’s the cover story?” asked Myfanwy.
    “Hostages, but no one’s used the T-word.”
    “No one is to use the T-word at all!” exclaimed Myfanwy. “Jesus Christ, do you have any idea how complicated that would make everything? Plus, the heads and the Bishops would skin me alive. I do not want the T-word to pass anyone’s lips.”
    “Bishop Grantchester did alert everyone in the organization that the T-word was never to be used,” Ingrid reminded her mildly.
    “Yes, because he had a very long conference with the Prime Minister and the Minister of Defense, and then the Rooks had to listen to a lecture for four hours,” said Myfanwy.
Which thankfully I did not have to attend. Thomas was so pissed off that she wrote thirteen pages of single-spaced diatribe.
“In any case, Ingrid, make sure the Rookery Liars are coming up with a rational excuse for what’s going on.”
    “A rational excuse, like crazy people?”
    “A rational excuse,” said Myfanwy firmly. “Now, does anyone know who this John Perry person is?” She would normally have referred to her purple binder, but in her haste, she had forgotten it. She looked hopefully around at the various people crammed into the helicopter, but none of them seemed to know. Ingrid looked up from