ALISTAIR
The kitchen door opens and Brumilde's young replacement comes in with Alex on her hip, and the entire room re-orients around him.
He has been napping. The dressing on his forehead is rumpled and his expression suggests he has things to say.
The young woman holds him out. “He woke up calling for someone.”
Alex extends both arms toward Ivy.
“Hello, you,” Ivy says, taking him into her arms.
Christopher, at the foot of the table, makes a wounded sound. “Excuse me. I am also a person in this room.”
Alex regards him from Ivy's shoulder with serene indifference.
“I held you yesterday,” Christopher tells the baby.
Alex pats Ivy's collarbone.
“This is hurtful.” Christopher reaches for his coffee. “I have been a constant presence. I have beenavailable.”
Ivy laughs. Henderson's mouth tugs sideways. Ariana lifts her brows. Even Mother, at the head of the table, allows herself something that is not quite amusement.
I rest my hand on the small of Ivy's back.
“So. Hargrove.”
“Brodie is on the comms layer,” Henderson says. “If there is a relay between Vellcottt and Hargrove, he'll find it.”
“And the dormant operator,” Ariana adds. “And the potential second device.”
“None of which gets us to Hargrove.”
“No. Not yet.”
I look at the window. The garden is bright and cold. A blackbird pecks at the lawn.
“He has to surface eventually,” Henderson says.
“Does he? He has not surfaced in a year. He may run this entire operation through other people, every step, and never once put himself in a room we can walk into.”
“Then we make him surface.”
“With what?”
Henderson doesn’t have an answer.
Hargrove is a name. He has bank accounts in shell companies and messages on encrypted channels and a network of paid hands operating across south London, and we cannot point to a body or a building or a face. We can disrupt his apparatus. We can take his men off the board. We cannot reach him.
I rub the bridge of my nose.
“Brodie will find something,” Ariana says. “Give him twenty-four hours.”
Ariana sets down her cup. “Mama and I are taking Alex today.”
I look at my mother, her face brightening at the prospect of it. “Wonderful,” she says.
“Are you sure?” asks Ivy.
