In 1842, Sir Arthur returned to England from Hong Kong, which he had just helped establish as a colony of the Empire. He was welcomed back by all who knew his history, but in truth, nobody was quite sure what to do with him. He had been absent from Europe for almost a century but still held lands, title, and property in London. At least, he held them on paper.
When he had last lived in London, he and another vampire had split the city between them; their territories divided by the route of the Thames. But the other vampire had disappeared on an ill-timed excursion to Paris about fifty years prior, and others had since moved in to claim both halves of the city as their own. Though they too welcomed their brother back with pointed smiles and a veneer of politeness, even the mortals who saw the exchanges knew trouble was on the horizon.
It was Robert Peel, the Prime Minister at the time, who devised a solution. He offered the role of Magistrate of the Dublin Office of Special Investigators to Sir Arthur.
Dunbro Lane occupies a bizarre ‘blank spot’ on maps of Dublin. With the airport to its east, and runways to its north and south, it winds its way between land unsuited for development. Most of the properties are the original farmlands that existed close to the city before the foundation of the state.
As we arrived at the abandoned farmhouse, I realised what a perfect place it was for a clandestine meeting. The bottleneck created by the airport meant there were no random passers-by, and aerial surveillance using anything flying lower than a spy satellite would be impossible without shutting down all the runways.
We got there just as the sun was lowering towards the horizon, painting the two-storey building in orange light. It had wide fields to either side of it and as we pulled in, a few bored cows from a neighbouring farm wandered over to the hedge to see what we were up to. Everything appeared deserted, but the property gate was open and there were fresh tyre-tracks from multiple vehicles in the mud. I could see no cars on the property, but the house was flanked by what looked like a machine shop and by a barn wide enough to park a zeppelin behind.
“Seems like recent use,” I said, indicating the tracks. “We go in now or wait for Containment?”
Cormac drummed his fingers on the steering wheel pensively. “If they see us and make a run on foot over these fields, we’ll never catch them.”
“We don’t need to catch them,” I said. “Just need to see who’s at the meeting.”
“Which will be easier if we go now. Sun will be down soon. Containment won’t be here until dark.”
I thought for a little while longer. This was one of those scenarios they give you in Containment training which has a definitely right and absolutely wrong answer. The right answer was to call for backup. “Fuck it. Punch it, Chewie.”
“What?”
“It’s a- never mind. Just drive in. I’ll call Containment and tell them to get their arses in gear.”
Behind the barn were two ominous black unmarked vans, parked end-to-end with about twelve feet between their rear doors. Cormac stopped in front of one and shut off the engine. The silence was eerie.
“Cork registration,” he pointed out.
“I see it.”
“White Clan trolls?”
“Either that or someone who just happened to buy their vans in Cork,” I replied, but the coincidence of the license plates had me worried. It could be James’s relatives or Tommy’s smuggling contacts. I exited the car and scanned the surrounding area. Aside from the noise of a distant-but-approaching 747 in the sky above, the only sound I could hear was my boots on the gravel.
I approached the driver’s door of the closest van and peered inside. It seemed empty, but had a partition behind the driver’s seat so I couldn’t see what may have been in the back. Behind me, I heard Cormac powering a spell into his wand. I didn’t recognise the spell, but it was something a bit more powerful than a stasis charm, judging by the length of the incantation.
Wands were useful in that you could dump a spell into it that takes five or ten or twenty minutes to cast and then hold it in there for as long as you held the wand, ready to unleash at a moment's notice. Even simple spells could be ‘charged’ further by dumping more and more power into it from your personal well. They were formidable, if inconsistent, weapons. The Department Wizard before Cormac had preferred a staff, which made up for in storage capacity and power what it lacked in subtlety and concealability.
I moved around to the rear of the van and placed a hand on the door latch. The plane overhead got louder. Cormac circled around behind me, with his wand covering the door I was about to open. The noise from the plane was intense now, sending vibrations through the metal into my hand. I held up my other hand with three fingers extended. Three. Cormac backed away on the gravel until his back was almost at the second van. I withdrew one finger. Two. The gentle vibrations from the handle were accompanied by a sudden sharper tap, as if someone or something inside the van had moved suddenly. Shit. The plane overhead was screaming now as I realised our mistake and I felt the handle turn on its own under my hand. I turned to yell back at Cormac. “Ambush!” but the doors of the van behind him were also springing open as three men in masks dove on him and bore him to the ground. His wand went spinning from his hand, releasing a firehose splash of magical energy that washed over his assailants with no effect.
Meanwhile, the door I had my hand on slammed open and two more masked figures jumped out. I still held onto the handle so one of them grabbed me by that wrist. I swung clumsily at his head with my other hand and felt my fist make solid contact, but his grip on my arm was iron tight still. The other assailant grabbed my free arm and the two of them dragged me out onto the space between the vans and forced my shoulders back by twisting my arms behind me.
I could see that two of the other group had Cormac pinned firmly to the ground. The third, noticing me and my predicament, stood and closed the distance between us. He was wearing a blank white cardboard mask that I could see a dark glint of his eyes behind. He wound up a punch and buried it painfully in my stomach. I doubled over and the two behind me forced me to my knees and then drove me, face-first, to the ground. I turned my head and spat out a mouthful of gravel before everything went black as a cloth bag was forced over my head.
The noise of the plane faded, at last, as I felt my arms being forced together and heard the sound of zip-ties being primed. “Resist and we kill you and your friend,” said a voice in my ear. I crossed my wrists behind my back and felt the zip-ties tighten around them. Then I was lifted to my feet and dragged away on my heels.
I was led down some stairs and made to sit on a chair. Someone cut the zip-ties off my wrists and my hands were forced between the bars on the back of the chair before I heard and felt a solid pair of manacles clamp down over them. A moment later, I heard another chair being moved into position behind mine and the rattle of handcuffs before the slamming of a door. Then there was silence.
I waited a moment before asking, “Cormac?” to the inside of my hood.
“Vic? What the fuck just happened?”
“I don’t know, but it happened fast.” I swung my head from side to side a few times. The sack they had placed over my head was small, but loose. I gave it a couple more swings and I was able to fling it away. I could see the dim outlines of a basement. One window, high on the western wall, let in a small amount of fading light. “You OK? Saw the wand go off, uh, randomly.”
“I didn’t hit myself with it, thankfully. But they took it. And they took my rings.”
I could hear the anger in his voice. A wizard’s rings were powerful protective tools. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll get them back. Once I’m done kicking their arses.”
“You carrying a lockpick I don’t know about?”
“Funny you should ask.”
Ten minutes later, I was poised in the corner with my chair held above my head. As the door opened, I could see Tommy in his glamour, and swung the chair heavily towards him.
Tommy wasn’t as quick as his dad, but did manage to duck far enough to dodge most of the blow. The chair skimmed the top of his head, only striking a glancing blow and shattered against the doorframe. He followed through on the ducking motion and turned it into a full-body roll, coming up in a crouch against the wall, swiveling to face me. “Don’t do this, Vic. We can still reach a deal. It’s a lot of money.”
I threw the remains of the chair at him and darted forward, fists raised. He stood just as quickly and threw a fast jab at me. I deflected it with a forearm and threw a jab of my own towards his neck. He tried to dodge but wasn’t fast enough and my punch sent his head rocketing back against the stone of the wall. My knuckles stung from the impact. He raised his hands protectively again and then swung for me with his right knee. I saw it coming and tried to grab the knee before it made contact, but I was somehow too slow or he was too fast and I grabbed only air. His knee made contact right where the Marquess of Queensberry said it shouldn’t, and the world before me blurred and doubled.
Tommy ducked again under one of my arms and fled to the basement door. When everything swam back into focus, he was on the other side of it. “We could have split the money!” he said, before closing it hurriedly. I heard a bolt slam home from the outside.
I shook my hand to bring some feeling back to my fingers and turned back to Cormac. “Well, I guess that’s that, then. They won’t be back. We’ll wait for Containment to show up and let us out of here.”
“You seem very calm,” said Cormac, with the sound of worry percolating up through his confusion.
“Why not? I just had a night out of the office. I had a nice drive in the country, and I even got to see a show. Hold still, and I’ll pop those handcuffs off. After that we’ll go arrest the fucker responsible for all this.”
It was thirty minutes before Containment arrived. I had Cormac’s handcuffs off by then and we were working on the door hinges when we heard the bolt slide back. Murtagh flung it open and then deflated with either relief or disappointment when he saw we were alone and unharmed. I could see Putter behind him. She waved hello and beamed a friendly smile, as usual. At least she seemed pleased to find us.
“We need to move fast,” I explained as we climbed the stairs from the basement and emerged into the crisp night air. “Get people to Tommy Clancy’s apartment. If he’s there, take him into custody. Have him brought out to Clancy Trucking. You have your phone?”
Murtagh handed me his phone as I scanned the area where we were attacked for signs of my own. I dialed my uncle.
“Matt, it’s Vic. Look, I’m sorry about what happened earlier.”
Matt sounded surprised, but recovered quickly. “Yeah, Vic, we both said things we didn’t mean.”
I didn’t think I did, but I let it slide in the interest of diplomacy. “We have news. We’re on our way back over to you now, and we should have everything sorted by this evening. If Tommy is there, don’t let him leave, and don’t leave him alone. If Robin and James are there too, let them know that they’re off the hook, but ask them to stay put until we arrive.”
I handed the phone back to Murtagh. “Follow us. We may need backup.”
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