The Golem's Eye

appeared to be drifting alone across a sea of dirt-red waves. Nathaniel gazed out across this great expanse, deep in thought.
    The chauffeur was of the usual taciturn type, and despite Nathaniel's best efforts, had revealed little of the previous night's disaster. "I don't know much myself, sir," he said. "But there was crowds gathered in the street outside my flat this morning. A lot of panic among the commoners, sir. Very frightened, they were. A disturbance."
    Nathaniel leaned forward. "What sort of disturbance?"
    "I believe a monster is involved, sir."
    "A monster? Can you be specific? Not a big stone man, shrouded in darkness?"
    "I don't know, sir. We'll be at the abbey shortly. The ministers are meeting there."
    Westminster Abbey? With great dissatisfaction, Nathaniel had settled back in the seat and composed himself to wait. All would be made clear in time. Quite possibly, the golem had struck again, in which case his account of events in Prague would be anxiously awaited. He sorted through everything he knew, trying to make sense of it, setting successes against setbacks in an effort to see whether he came out with credit. On balance, it was a close thing.
    On the credit side, he had landed a definite blow against the enemy: with the help of Harlequin, he had discovered the source of the golem parchments and had destroyed it. He had learned of the involvement of the terrible bearded mercenary and, behind him, some other shadowy figure who had, if the mercenary was to be believed, also been involved in the Lovelace conspiracy two years before. The existence of such a traitor was important news. Set against this, however, Nathaniel had not discovered who the traitor was. Of course, it was hard to see how he could have done so, since even the wretched Kavka hadn't known the name.
    Here, Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, remembering his rash promise to the old magician. The Czech spies, Kavka's children, were—apparently—still alive in a British prison. If so, it would be extremely difficult for Nathaniel to secure their release. But what did it matter? Kavka was dead! It didn't matter to him now one way or the other. The promise could quietly be forgotten. Despite this clear-cut logic, Nathaniel found it hard to dismiss the matter from his mind. He shook his head angrily and returned to more important matters.
    The traitor's identity was a mystery, but the mercenary had given Nathaniel one important clue. His employer knew Nathaniel was coming to Prague and had instructed the mercenary to take action. But Nathaniel's mission had been almost spontaneous, and kept very quiet. Hardly anyone was aware of it.
    Who, in fact, had known? Nathaniel counted them out on the fingers of one hand. Himself; Whitwell, of course—she'd sent him there in the first place; Julius Tallow—he'd been present at the meeting. Then there was the Second Secretary of the Foreign Office, who'd briefed Nathaniel before the flight—Whitwell had asked him to prepare the maps and documents. And that was it. Unless... hold on... a faint uncertainty nagged at Nathaniel. That encounter with Jane Farrar in the foyer, when she'd used the Charm... Had he let anything slip there? It was so hard to remember; her spell had fogged his mind a little.... No good. He couldn't recall.
    Even so, the range of suspects was remarkably small. Nathaniel chewed the edge of a fingernail. He had to be very careful from now on. The mercenary had said something else, too: his employer had many servants. If the traitor was as close as Nathaniel now guessed, he had to watch his step. Someone among the powerful was operating the golem in secret, directing it through the watch-eye. They would not wish Nathaniel to investigate further. Attempts might well be made on his life. He would need Bartimaeus to stick close to him.
     
    Despite these concerns, Nathaniel was feeling fairly pleased with himself by the time the viaducts lowered and the car neared central London. When all was said and done, he had prevented a second golem's being unleashed on the capital, and for that, he would surely receive full praise. Inquiries could be carried out and the traitor discovered. The first thing he would do would be to report to Whitwell and Devereaux. No doubt, they would drop everything and respond.
    This happy certainty had begun to ebb a little even before the car drew into Westminster Green. Nearing the Thames, Nathaniel began to notice certain unusual things: