Rook

absolutely confidential. But this is really,
really
important…”

38
     
    M yfanwy woke up twice: once when they arrived at the helicopter, and again when they landed. They all squashed into the Rookery lift, then made their way to the main lobby. Everyone was exhausted except for Pawn Alan, who looked to be having the time of his life.
    “Ingrid, I’m going to go get changed,” said Myfanwy as they entered the assistant’s office. “See if there’ve been any developments, please, and can we get some food sent up? The rest of you please wait outside my office,” she said to Emily, Li’l Pawn Alan, and the remaining large bodyguard. Her hand was on the door when Ingrid called to her.
    “Rook Thomas, Chevalier Eckhart is on the line.”
    Myfanwy rushed over to the desk.
    “It’s me. What’s happening?” she asked intently.
    “Thomas, we’re about to go in” came Eckhart’s hushed voice. “Any last things we should be aware of?”
    “We’re dealing with the Grafters, so don’t take any chances. If anybody starts to swell alarmingly, then kill them thoroughly—the last guy ended up eating me. And don’t try and preserve anything for sampling.”
    “All right,” he said, sounding surprised.
    “I’m not kidding here, Joshua. Destroy them utterly, except for that prick with no skin. See if you can’t bring him back.”
    “Man with no skin; I’ll pass the word.”
    “I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Good luck.”
    “Thank you.” And then he was gone.
    Myfanwy put the phone down, hoping that Eckhart would come out of it okay. She entered her office, swung open the portrait that led to the stairs, and wearily thought of the climb up to her flat. Suddenly, the big squashy chair behind her desk looked like a much better proposition.
Just for a few minutes,
she thought, stepping out of the combat boots and padding across the room. She stumbled in her oversize coveralls and bumped against the desk, knocking over one of the teetering stacks of documents. It sent an avalanche of paper across her blotter.
Great,
she thought, settling into her chair.
    She leaned back and put her feet up on the desk.
If they don’t get the flayed Grafter, then what the hell am I going to do? How on earth am I supposed to track down this Ernst von Suchtlen?
Suddenly irritated, she shoved with her feet, pushing all the stacks of documents off the desk.
    “Rook Thomas, are you all right?” came the hesitant voice of the large bodyguard.
    “Yeah, I’m just doing some filing,” she called back.
    “Well, the food’s here. They’ve laid it out in the reception area.”
    “Okay, I’m coming,” she said, standing up with a sigh. Her glance fell to the floor and the overturned stationery.
    Myfanwy got down on her knees and scooped up the pile. These were not the secret dossiers Thomas had left behind, but personnel records. Her eyes grew huge as she stared at a piece of paper, then she scrabbled through the files frantically.
    In Ingrid’s office, Emily and the large bodyguard looked at each other. High-pitched squeaks were coming through the door, and they could hear a large number of papers being shifted. Emily nodded toward the door and raised her eyebrows. The large bodyguard shook his head tightly and pointed at her with his chin. The silent debate continued and might have gone on for much longer, but then the doors burst open and Myfanwy walked out, her face cold and set. Behind her, the office was littered with papers she had flung about in a fit of rage. Ingrid looked up in surprise, and Li’l Pawn Alan squeaked in his chair.
    “Convene the Court, right now,” she said to Ingrid.
    “Rook Thomas? I—yes, right away. What about Chevalier Eckhart? He’s at that assault.”
    “Don’t pull him off it,” said Myfanwy. “That needs to be taken care of. But everyone else. Keep it quiet, though. This can’t be like every other meeting, where their entire staff knows, and then the entire Checquy knows. There can’t even be a call log for someone to see.”
    “If you’re really worried about no records,” said Li’l Pawn Alan, “you should use the secure command suite in the basement. The phones there are encrypted and aren’t connected to the regular switchboard. And there’s an armed guard on the door at all times.” Everybody looked at him.
    “What?” he said. “I’m in communications. I just got the big orientation lecture about it this morning.”
    “Well, that sounds good,” said