The Golem's Eye

and the other ministers tolerated him with wary courtesy.
    Mr. Devereaux noted Ms. Whitwell's arrival and raised an acknowledging hand. He coughed discreetly; instantly Mr. Pinn's flow of grievances ceased.
    "Thank you, Sholto," the Prime Minister said. "You are most articulate. We are all deeply moved by your predicament. Perhaps now we may get some answers. Jessica Whitwell is here, together with young Mandrake, whom I'm sure you all remember."
    Mr. Duvall grunted, his voice heavy with irony. "Who does not know the great John Mandrake? We follow his career with interest, particularly his efforts against the troublesome Resistance. I hope he brings news of a breakthrough in this case."
    All eyes fixed upon Nathaniel. He gave a brief, stiff bow as courtesy required. "Good evening, sirs, madams. Erm, I have no firm news as yet. We have been carefully investigating the scene, and—"
    "I knew it!" The medals on the Police Chief's chest swung and clicked with the force of his interruption. "You hear that, Sholto? 'No firm news.' Hopeless."
    Mr. Pinn regarded Nathaniel through his monocle. "Indeed. Most disappointing."
    "It is about time Internal Affairs was taken off this case," Duvall continued. "We at the police could do a better job. It's time the Resistance was crushed."
    "Hear, hear." Mr. Fry looked up briefly, then returned to the servant. "And a strawberry roulade for dessert..."
    "It certainly is," Helen Malbindi said gravely. "I have myself suffered some losses—a valuable collection of African spirit masks was taken recently."
    "Some of my associates," Carl Mortensen added, "were burgled, too. And the backroom of my Persian carpet supplier was set on fire last night."
    From his corner, Mr. Makepeace smiled equably. "In truth, most of these crimes are terribly small scale, are they not? They do not truly hurt us. The Resistance are fools: they alienate the commoners with their explosions—people are frightened of them."
    "Small scale? How can you say that," Mr. Duvall cried, "when one of the most prestigious streets in London has been devastated? Our enemies around the world will be rushing home to communicate the good news—that the British Empire is too weak to prevent attacks on its own doorstep. That'll go down well in the backwoods of America, I can tell you. And on Gladstone's Day, above all."
    "Which is a ridiculous extravagance, incidentally," Mortensen said. "A waste of valuable resources. I don't know why we honor the old fool."
    There was a chuckle from Mr. Makepeace. "You wouldn't have said that to his face, Mortensen."
    "Gentlemen, gentlemen..." The Prime Minister stirred himself. "We should not bicker. In one respect, Carl is correct. Founder's Day is a serious business and must be done well. We befuddle the population with gaudy trivialities. Millions are taken from the Treasury to finance the free food and games. Even the Fourth Fleet has delayed embarking for America to provide a little extra spectacle. Anything that spoils the effect—and wounds Mr. Pinn into the bargain—needs to be quickly addressed. Currently, it is the job of Internal Affairs to investigate crimes of this nature. Now, Jessica, if you would care to report..."
    Ms. Whitwell gestured at Nathaniel. "Mr. Mandrake has been conducting the case with Mr. Tallow. He has not yet had time to report to me. I suggest we hear him out."
    The Prime Minister smiled benignly at Nathaniel. "Go ahead, John."
    Nathaniel swallowed. His master was leaving him to fend for himself. Very well, then. "It's too early to tell what caused this morning's disruption," he said. "Maybe—"
    Sholto Pinn's monocle popped out of his eye. " 'Disruption'?" he roared. "This is a catastrophe! How dare you, boy?"
    Nathaniel persevered doggedly. "It's too early, sir," he said, "to tell whether this was in fact the Resistance at all. It might well not be. It might be agents from a foreign power, or the pique of a homegrown renegade. There are odd aspects about the case—"
    Mr. Duvall held up a hairy hand. "Ridiculous! It's a Resistance attack for sure. It has all the hallmarks of their crimes."
    "No, sir." Nathaniel forced himself to meet the police chief's gaze. He was not going to kowtow any further. "Resistance attacks are small-scale, generally involving low-level magical attack—mouler glasses, Elemental Spheres. They are always conducted against political targets—against magicians, or the businesses that supply us—and have a whiff of opportunism