Page 3 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

That, and he really doesn’t like getting wet.

The way back is by car.

She sees it parked ahead of the alley mouth, plain, common and cheap.

He opens the back-seat door for her. ‘Thank you for braving the rain.’

‘Thank Mr Snoop.’ He slides in beside her. He doesn’t know how to drive, has never needed to. ‘Home, please,’ Vasily tells the driver.

Home.

Varrow is home.

It has been for too long.

‘How was it seeing Lock again?’

‘Painful,’ she answers, watching the streets give way to wider avenues that lead to where she rests her head most nights.

They have not seen one another for two full days.

Vasily has been on Ghostline.

Ghostline is the Moroz Front’s mechanical shark, circling unseen.

A modified three-car maintenance train carrying mobile surveillance through Varrow’s underground network. Distributed passive RF receivers and spectrum-analysis hardware sift through the city’s electronic noise as it moves, detecting and triangulating emissions from phones, radios, vehicles, wireless networks and security systems above. The data is cross-referenced against known signal fingerprints and intelligence from agents on the ground, allowing Ghostline to track targets without transmitting a thing or staying anywhere long enough to be found. It moves mostly through service tunnels, maintenance sidings and disused track, quiet and independent beneath the city.

Vasily, of course, calls it Mr Snoop. He’s the only one.

‘What news?’ she asks him.

‘Iron Star is under strain,’ he tells her. ‘Did you retrieve the book?’

‘From Julian, yes.’

Vasily turns in his seat to look at her. Blaire pulls her focus from the rain-kissed glass. ‘How was he? Does he remember anything?’

‘No, but I told him about the Death Knot.’

‘Did he believe you?’

‘I saw no immediate repression or rejection.’

‘If anyone is going to make Jules remember, it will be Lock.’

‘Maybe,’ she murmurs, closing her eyes.

So many thoughts swirl within.

Ideas. Plans. Desires. Dreams. Schemes.

All must be carefully buried beneath the weight of necessity.

He asks, ‘Did you see Harker?’

‘Riley Harker is Céliane’s focus,’ Blaire reminds Vasily, glad for the change in subject. ‘I have no need to see him, no measure to take.’

‘You should not underestimate him.’