he reached out and picked up the speaking tube.
‘Mr Winvoe?’ he said, after whistling into it. ‘Ah. Good. Tel me, how much do we
have in our vaults at the moment? Oh, approximately. To the nearest mil ion, say.’ He
held the tube away from his ear for a moment, and then spoke into it again. ‘Wel , be a
good chap and check anyway, wil you?’
He hung up the tube and placed his hands flat on the desk in front of him.
‘Can I offer you a drink while we wait?’ he said.
Yes. We believe so.
Downey stood up with some relief and walked over to his large drinks cabinet. His
hand hovered over the Guild’s ardent and valuable tantalus, with its label ed decanters
of Mur, Nig, Trop and Yksihw.3
3 It’s a sad and terrible thing that high-born folk really have thought that the servants would be totally fooled if spirits were put into decanters that were cunningly labelled backwards. And also throughout history the more politically conscious butler has taken it on trust, and with rather more justification, that his employers will not notice if the whisky is topped up with eniru.
‘And what would you like to drink?’ he said, wondering where the Auditor kept its
mouth. His hand hovered for just a moment over the smal est decanter, marked
Nosiop.
We do not drink.
‘But you did just say I could offer you a drink … ‘
Indeed. We judge you ful y capable of performing that action.
‘Ah.’Downey’s hand hesitated over the whisky decanter, and then he thought better
of it. At that point, the speaking tube whistled.
‘Yes, Mr Winvoe? Real y? Indeed? I myself have frequently found loose change
under sofa cushions, it’s amazing how it mou … No, no, I wasn’t being … Yes, I did
have some reason to … No, no blame attaches to you in any … No, I could hardly see
how it … Yes, go and have a rest, what a good idea. Thank you.’
He hung up the tube again. The cowl hadn’t moved.
‘We wil need to know where, when and, of course, who,’ he said, after a moment.
The cowl nodded. The location is not on any map. We would like the task to be
completed within the week. This is essential. As for the who…
A drawing appeared on Downey’s desk and in his head arrived the words: Let us cal
him the Fat Man.
‘Is this a joke?’ said Downey.
We do not joke.
No, you don’t, do you, Downey thought. He drummed his fingers.
‘There are many who would say this… person does not exist,’ he said.
He must exist. How else could you so readily recognize his picture? And many are in
correspondence with him.
‘Wel , yes, of course, in a sense he exists…
In a sense everything exists. It is cessation of existence that concerns us here.
‘Finding him would be a little difficult.’
You wil find persons on any street who can tel you his approximate address.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Downey, wondering why anyone would cal them ‘persons’. It
was an odd usage. ‘But, as you say, I doubt that they could give a map reference. And
even then, how could the . . . the Fat Man be inhumed? A glass of poisoned sherry, perhaps?’
The cowl had no face to crack a smile.
You misunderstand the nature of employment, it said in Downey’s head.
He bridled at this. Assassins were never employed. They were engaged or retained
or commissioned, but never employed. Only servants were employed.
‘What is it that I misunderstand, exactly?’ he said.
We pay. You find the ways and means.
The cowl began to fade.
‘How can I contact you?’ said Downey.
We wil contact you. We know where you are. We know where everyone is.
The figure vanished. At the same moment the door was flung open to reveal the
distraught figure of Mr Winvoe, the Guild Treasurer.
‘Excuse me, my lord, but I real y had to come up!’ He flung some discs on the desk.
‘Look at them!’
Downey careful y picked up a golden circle. It looked like a smal coin, but –
‘No denomination!’ said Winvoe. ‘No heads, no tails, no mil ing! It’s just a blank disc!
They’re al just blank discs!’
Downey opened his mouth to say, ‘Valueless?’ He realized that he was half hoping
that this was the case. If they, whoever they were, had paid in worthless metal then
there wasn’t even the glimmering of a contract. But he could see this wasn’t the case.
Assassins learned to recognize money early in their careers.
‘Blank discs,’ he said, ‘of pure gold.’
Winvoe nodded mutely.
‘That,’ said Downey, ‘wil do nicely.’
‘It must be magical!’ said Winvoe. ‘And we never accept magical money!’
Downey bounced the coin on the desk a couple of times. It made a satisfyingly rich
thunking noise. It wasn’t magical. Magical money would look real, because its whole
purpose was to deceive. But this didn’t need to ape something as human and
adulterated as mere currency. This is gold, it told his fingers. Take it or leave it.
Downey sat and thought, while Winvoe stood and worried.
‘We’l take it,’ he said.
‘But-‘
‘Thank you, Mr Winvoe. That is my decision,’ said Downey. He stared into space for
a while, and then smiled. ‘Is Mister Teatime stil in the building?’
Winvoe stood back. ‘I thought the council had agreed to dismiss him,’ he said stiffly.
‘After that business with—‘
‘Mister Teatime does not see the world in quite the same way as other people,’ said
Downey, picking up the picture from his desk and looking at it thoughtful y.
‘Wel , indeed, I think that is certainly true.’
‘Please send him up.’
The Guild attracted al sorts of people, Downey reflected. He found himself
wondering how it had come to attract Winvoe, for one thing. It was hard to imagine him
stabbing anyone in the heart in case he got blood on the victim’s wal et. Whereas
Mister Teatime…
The problem was that the Guild took young boys and gave them a splendid
education and incidental y taught them how to kil , cleanly and dispassionately, for
money and for the good of society, or at least that part of society that had money, and
what other kind of society was there?
But very occasional y you found you’d got someone like Mister Teatime, to whom the
money was merely a distraction. Mister Teatime had a truly bril iant mind, but it was
bril iant like a fractured mirror, al marvel ous facets and rainbows but, ultimately, also
something that was broken.
Mister Teatime enjoyed himself too much. And other people, also.
Downey had privately decided that some time soon Mister Teatime was going to
meet with an accident. Like many people with no actual morals, Lord Downey did have
standards, and Teatime repel ed him. Assassination was a careful game, usual y
played against people who knew the rules themselves or at least could afford the
services of those who did. There was considerable satisfaction in a clean kil . What
there wasn’t supposed to be was pleasure in a messy one. That sort of thing led to
talk.
On the other hand, Teatime’s corkscrew of a mind was exactly the tool to deal with
something like this. And if he didn’t … wel , that was hardly Downey’s fault, was it?
He turned his attention to the paperwork for a while. It was amazing how the stuff
mounted up. But you had to deal with it. It wasn’t as though they were murderers, after
al …
There was a knock at the door. He pushed the paperwork aside and sat back.
‘Come in, Mister Teatime,’ he said. It never hurt to put the other fel ow slightly in awe
of you.
In fact the door was opened by one of the Guild’s servants, careful y balancing a tea
tray.
‘Ah, Carter,’ said Lord Downey, recovering magnificently. ‘Just put it on the table over
there, wil you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Carter. He turned and nodded. ‘Sorry, sir, I wil go and fetch another
cup directly, sir.’
‘What?’
‘For your visitor, sir.’
‘What visitor? Oh, when Mister Teati-‘
He stopped. He turned.
There was a young man sitting on the hearthrug, playing with the dogs.
‘ Mister Teatime!’
‘It’s pronounced Teh-ah-tim-eh, sir,’ said Teatime, with just a hint of reproach.
‘Everyone gets it wrong, sir.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘Pretty wel , sir. I got mildly scorched on the last few feet, of course.’
There were some lumps of soot on the hearthrug. Downey realized he’d heard them
fal , but that hadn’t been particularly extraordinary. No one could get down the
chimney. There was a heavy grid firmly in place near the top of the flue.
‘But there’s a blocked-in fireplace behind the old library,’ said Teatime, apparently