London on Chicago Chronicles

Fool's Errand

Thu, 03 Jan 1991 05:00:00 +0000

Piccadilly London, England — October 1969

The auction house was dark except for a light in the back. A gentleman in a waistcoat with a cup of tea and a paperback novel. The transfer confirmed. A brown paper package tied with string. Sign here, please. Thank you, sir.

Roarke pushed the door open. The bell chimed. He stepped onto the pavement.

A half-second of wrongness. The street was too quiet for Piccadilly at seven. The couple was gone. A car idled at the far kerb with its lights off.

The Auction

Thu, 03 Jan 1991 04:00:00 +0000

Piccadilly / Mayfair Hotel London, England — October 1969

Roarke took Natasha. Black cab to Piccadilly. The auction house was a narrow shopfront between a tailor and a tobacco merchant – dark wood, brass fittings, glass cases full of naval memorabilia. A viewing area. A dozen men in tweed. Cold cuts and tea in proper cups.

He found it in the back corner. Lot 47. Admiral Tourney’s journal. The right-hand page, near the bottom, in handwriting that had gone tight and private: My greatest delight, though, was a memo from A relating that another fragment of the so-called Book of Nod has been – and the page ended there.

Pawns in the Game

Thu, 03 Jan 1991 03:00:00 +0000

Queen Anne’s Mansion South London — October 1969

At 5:47 the bedroom door opened and Lodin stepped out in the suit from the blue suitcase. He listened to the report without interrupting. The customs inspector, the Mesmerize, the hotel, the call. He was quiet for three seconds after Roarke finished.

The Mesmerize. One use?

One use. On a mortal.

Adequate.

He fed somewhere in Mayfair with Natasha and Derek. Came back at quarter past eight with color under his skin. Changed into an evening suit that fit like it had been made for him in this city, which it probably had. Then: all of you, with me, we’re expected.

Settling In

Thu, 03 Jan 1991 02:00:00 +0000

Heathrow Airport / Mayfair London, England — October 1969

They landed at Heathrow at 7:14 AM. October light – thin, watery, apologetic – slanting across wet tarmac. The ground crew directed the Learjet to a private hangar, a long building with high windows that turned the morning into a weapon. Sunlight poured through the glass and puddled on the concrete floor in pale sheets.

The crate sat in the cargo area. Brass fittings catching the light like coins at the bottom of a fountain.

The Trip

Thu, 03 Jan 1991 01:00:00 +0000

O’Hare Airport / Airborne — Atlantic Chicago to London — October 1969

The next evening they loaded the Lincoln Continental and drove for O’Hare. Derek at the wheel. Lodin behind tinted glass. Roarke rode shotgun watching the mirrors the way he’d been watching mirrors since before the Model T.

He saw the tail fifteen minutes in. Dark sedan, two cars back, professional spacing. It had been there since Lake Shore Drive. When traffic compressed at the Circle interchange and every other car bunched together, the sedan held its gap. Wrong behavior. Natasha saw it too. Derek saw it when they told him.