Rook

her laptop and confirmed that no one of that name was a member of the Checquy. Googling the name had led to a variety of people, none of whom were from Reading or seemed to have anything to do with the situation at all.
    “Okay,” said Myfanwy. “Well, that’s a mystery for later. Now, do we know if anyone has been harmed?”
Please, God, let them just have been taken hostage. It is going to be bad if that skinless piece of shit has started harming civilians. I must be cold, calm, and collected.
    “There are seven police officers, three clerical staff, and a couple of dozen civilians caught in there,” said Ingrid grimly.
    “Damn!” said Myfanwy. She slammed the armrest in frustration.“This was so completely unnecessary. I told de Leeuwen that I would find his damned partner!”
    “But you didn’t mean it,” said Ingrid gently. “You were tracing his call, planning to hunt him down before your time was up.”
    “Yes, but he didn’t know that!” snapped Myfanwy. “So why would he feel compelled to do this?”
    “You called him a reject from a butcher shop and threatened to make him torture himself in a tub full of feces,” said Ingrid.
    “You think he did this because of something I said?” said Myfanwy.
    “Well, he didn’t strike me as the most stable of individuals,” replied Ingrid. “He might have done this because of the way you said hello, or because it’s Saturday, or because one of his aides didn’t bow deep enough, or who knows what.”
    “It’s still Saturday?” said Myfanwy exhaustedly. “You know, I don’t generally do this. Rook Gestalt was the one who took care of situations in the field.”
    “Please, Rook Thomas,” squeaked Alan, the little Pawn. “Back at the Estate we all heard about how you handled the incident at Bath.” The large bodyguards nodded, and even Ingrid smiled at her confidently.
    Oh, brilliant,
Myfanwy thought dismally as the helicopter began its descent. “Ow!” she exclaimed as they landed roughly, jarring everything that had been investigated by the Rookery doctors. The two large bodyguards, looking profoundly relieved to be on the ground, got up and surveyed the landing pad. There was a limousine waiting for them, flanked by two formidable off-road vehicles. Clustered around the vehicles were several large people, all of whom were antsy and heavily armed, which was never a good combination.
    “Rook Thomas, we’ll just make sure these people are secure,” said one of the large bodyguards. As they left, Alan slowly unfolded. Myfanwy watched through the window as the bodyguards hulked over to the collected Checquy staff, weaving slightly as they recovered from airsickness. Ingrid’s phone rang and she answered it, then nodded as she listened.
    “We’re cleared to go, Rook Thomas,” she said, getting up. “Alan, get those cases, please.”
    “Where are we?” asked Myfanwy. The helicopter appeared to have landed in a recently vacated cow field. “We couldn’t find an airport? Or a helipad? Or a place that wasn’t mined with—damn it! Now I have cow shit on my shoes.”
    “At least you’re not wearing heels,” retorted Ingrid as she sank into the soil. Behind them, Alan struggled with the cases.
    “Rook Thomas, this is Pawn Cyrus West. He’s site manager for this incident,” said one of the large bodyguards.
    “Good to see you, Cyrus,” said Myfanwy, trying not to notice how hesitantly he took her hand. She remembered Ingrid saying that word had gotten around about her making that guy stab himself.
    “Ladies. Gentlemen.” She acknowledged the Checquy team members with a nod and eye contact. “It’s good to see you all. Cyrus, I’m certain you’re eager to get back to the site.” She stepped into the car and was joined by Cyrus and her team. The large bodyguard inspected an extremely large gun that he’d taken from one of Ingrid’s cases.
    “That thing has the safety catch on, right?” asked Myfanwy anxiously.
    “Uh… absolutely, Rook Thomas,” said the large bodyguard uncertainly, peering at the side of the gun.
    “He’s not really a gun person,” whispered Ingrid to Myfanwy. “But he does have the ability to make people’s skin burst off their torso.”
    “Oh… good,” said Myfanwy. “Anyway, Cyrus, could you fill me in on the situation in the police station?” He nodded and began to speak in an incredibly soporific droning voice. Myfanwy, already hungover, low on sleep, having been probed, drained,