Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (56 page)

    "Then what were you doing in the river? "
    "Drowning?"

    He smiled slightly. "People don't normally go swimming in the Thames. If there is something you have become involved in that's got out of control, then maybe we can help."

    "I haven't done anything wrong," I told him. "I haven't broken any law."

    "You don't always have to break the law to end up out of your depth, Mr Petersen. The police are here to protect the citizens from harm and to keep the Queen's peace. If you are being threatened or intimidated…? "
    "No one is threatening me." They weren't. Not now. "Understand that you can talk to us if there's a problem. We may be able to help. "
    "Thanks, but I think I'm OK."

    He paused for a moment, thinking, then stood up and picked up the tape deck. "Interview ends at…" He checked his watch and recited the time and date. Then he handed the recorder to DS Vincent.

    "If you could get a transcript typed up for me for tomorrow, I can go through it with DI Tindall in the morning."
    "Yes, sir."

    "And you could find the constable who was keeping an eye on Mr Petersen for us and let him know he can go home."

    "You're not going to arrest me then?" I asked.

    "The police are not in the habit of prosecuting witnesses, Mr Petersen. We would like you to come down to the station and sign a copy of your statement, but apart from that we won't be needing anything else from you, unless there's something more you would like to tell us? "
    "No. There's nothing else."

    "Very well." He waited while DS Vincent gathered up his notebook and tape recorder and went in search of the constable.
    "Do you play golf, Mr Petersen?"
    "Golf? No, why?"
    "The head of the CPS plays golf."
    "CPS?"

    "The Crown Prosecution Service. The people for whom we must gather the evidence and to whom we must make our case. The head of the CPS is responsible for deciding who gets prosecuted and who does not. "
    "And he plays golf?"

    "Apparently he plays with some of the Queen's Bench Division at the Royal Courts of Justice. I believe you are acquainted with one of the masters there, by the name of Checkland?"

    "Yes. We met quite recently." Was this another interview, without the recorder this time?

    "I just wanted you to know. If I find out that you were in any way responsible for the death of one of my officers, it won't matter who you know or what favours you are owed. Do I make myself clear?" I took a deep breath. "Yes. I understand."

    "Good morning, Mr Petersen." He quietly pulled the door closed behind him.

    After a minute or two, Blackbird reappeared. She was not alone.

    "Daddy!" Alex threw herself onto the bed, wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me fiercely. "Careful, darling, he's still not well." Katherine, a few steps behind our daughter, was being Mum. "Sorry, she's been dying to come in here ever since she first heard you'd woken." She tried to ease Alex from around my neck.

    She managed to move her from lying on my chest, but my daughter was not going to be parted from me so easily. She lay alongside me, her head on my shoulder, curled into the crook of my arm, her curls tickling my nose as I stroked her hair. Katherine gave up trying to separate her from me when I nodded it was OK. It was better to concede to being hugged than to have her fight to stay. "How are you feeling?" Katherine asked.

    "I've been worse," I reassured her, noticing Blackbird slipping out of the room past a man who was standing in the doorway, looking out of place. Tall and bearded, he was caught at the boundary, unwilling to enter, but also unwilling to leave. I looked curiously at Katherine.

    "This is Barry," she introduced him. "Barry brought us over in his car."

    My Fey hearing found the evasion in that sentence, and the look between Katherine and our daughter confirmed that there was more to this than they were saying. They were terrible at keeping secrets at the best of times.

    I nodded to him. "Hi, Barry, you don't have to stand in the doorway. You can come in." He edged into the room, still looking uncomfortable, as if he didn't think he ought to be here.

    Katherine took a deep breath. "Niall, you might as well know now. Barry is my fiancé, we're getting married." I looked between the two of them, while my daughter hugged me extra tightly as if I might erupt. It took me a moment to realise that a week ago it would have sparked a deep sense of resentment in me, but a lot had changed in the past few days.

    "Well, that's great news," I told them. "Congratulations, to you both. Really." Barry smiled at this positive reaction. I offered him the hand that didn't have a drip attached to it and he shook it gently, conscious of my debilitated state.

    Katherine was more sceptical about my reaction.

    "We've been seeing a lot of each other, but I didn't know how to tell you. Alex here has been sworn to secrecy, haven't you, sweetheart?" She reached over and ruffled her hair.

    "Katherine, it's your life. I wish you every happiness together."

    "Thanks," she said, and seemed to mean it. "And I'm not the only one with developments on the relationship front. I've met your girlfriend. She seems very nice. What an unusual name."

    A moment of panic hit me when I realised I had no idea what name she'd given them. "Is it?" I said lamely. "Yes, I've never come across a Blackbird before, have you?"

    "It's kind of a nickname that stuck," I explained.

    "Well you've been keeping her quiet, too. Where did you meet her?"

    "I met her on the Underground and she insisted on taking me for coffee. We've not been together very long."

    "Don't look so embarrassed, Niall. It's good that you've found someone, even if she is a lot younger than you. She's barely left your side, you know, and she's been worried sick about you. We've got to know each other over the past day or so. I like her. "
    "So do I."

    Reassured that there wasn't going to be a row between her parents, Alex sat up on the bed, taking in the room and its contents.

    "Dad, what do these buttons do?" She pointed to a row of buttons on the wall.

    "I have no idea, sweetheart. Just don't press any of them."

    Katherine interceded. "Barry, would you mind taking Alex and seeing if you can find something for her to drink? I think I saw a water fountain near the door. "
    "I don't need a drink. I'm fine," my daughter declared.

    "Don't be difficult. You haven't had a drink for at least two hours and you know what you're like. You'll wait until there's no chance of getting one and then declare you're dying of thirst. Go on with you, you can come straight back to your dad once you've drunk it." She reluctantly agreed to go on condition that she could come back and Barry guided her outside. She was comfortable with him and they had clearly spent a lot of time together.

    "He's OK, your Barry," I told her as he closed the door behind him. "He's a good man, Niall, a gentle man."

    It was a remark I would have taken as critical before, but I took it as another positive sign that I could accept her assessment without inferring it as critical of me. "So, did the situation you were involved in get sorted out? Is that how you ended up in the river?" This was the question she had manoeuvred Alex and Barry out of the room to ask, and I wondered how I could explain the events of the past days without telling her things that would only raise more questions than answers.

    "I think it's safe to say it got resolved, Katherine. I don't think there is a threat to you or Alex any more, but it's made me look at my life in a whole new light. Things are going to have to change, that much I do know. In many ways they already have."

    "You do seem different," she remarked, "but I still don't understand how you ended up in the river. Did you fall from a bridge? Did someone throw you in? "
    "No. It's very complicated and the less you know about it, the better, but you can trust me when I say I had no intention of ending up swimming in the Thames." I could say that in the knowledge that there had never been any possibility of swimming with the hammer slung across my shoulder – besides, I had been in the Fleet, not the Thames.

    "I'm not sure I like these secrets, Niall, not when Alex and I are involved."

    "You're not involved. I worked very hard to make sure you stayed out of it. And I'm not the only one with secrets, am I?"

    "Well I just hope that there's an end to it, whatever it was."

    Blackbird appeared, closely followed by a nurse who straightened the bed, took my temperature again and updated the chart on the end of my bed. Then Alex reappeared and I was treated to a full description of her trip abroad, including the aeroplane, the hotel, the city and all she'd seen and done.

    The description was more of a monologue than a conversation, though both Katherine and Barry were solicited for opinions on whether something was "awesome" or simply "cool". She asked me about the needle in my arm and then asked whether Blackbird dyed her hair and then she got to wondering whether anything would really happen if she pressed the buttons behind the bed.

    Eventually Katherine declared that I must be tired and, despite protestations from Alex that I couldn't be tired as I had only just woken up, she was shepherded out with promises that she could return the next day if I wasn't discharged.

    "That," I remarked to Blackbird when they had gone, "is a real incentive to feel better."
    "She was worried about you."

    "Yes, I know. And I do appreciate her concern. But she's so full of life, sometimes, she wears me down. "
    "And she's only one," she reminded me, walking around to sit beside me on the edge of the bed. I grimaced, but then smiled at the thought of what was to come.

    "The doctor says the water has cleared from your lungs and with the amount of antibiotics they pumped into you, I shouldn't think you'll get any infection for years."

    "I don't think it works like that," I told her.

    "Really?" The corner of her lips turned up in that halfsmile and she tilted her head sideways, slightly. "Don't tease. I'm not up to teasing yet."

    "Oh? And here was me hoping you might be up to a little more than light teasing in a day or so. "
    "I've only just regained consciousness," I reminded her. "Actually you were conscious that night, for a short while. You've recovered really quickly. The doctors are already wondering at your rate of recovery. You were off the oxygen after twelve hours and have been improving ever since."

    "Is that your doing?"

    "No, water really isn't my thing. It's your body that's changing. Just look at your hands. When they brought you in, they were covered in cuts. They put several stitches into your fingers. That was less than two days ago. Now you would think the scars are months old. Fortunately, the nice lady doctor says some people stick together well, and you're one of them. Still, you've given even her pause for thought."

    "Do you think I should play sick for a while?"

    "No, I think you should get yourself out of their sight as soon as possible. You don't want to show them any more than you need to. Seriously, if I'd realised you would heal this quickly, I wouldn't have called an ambulance."

    "Where else can I go? The flat is still torn apart from Solandre's visit and I doubt the police will let anyone near it until they've completed their forensics. "
    "Well, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I can't go back to being Veronica, other than for a short while to quietly sort out her life and give her an excuse to disappear. I think you know now that going back to your job isn't really a possibility. "
    "What am I going to do for money? I have Alex and Katherine to support, and if you're not going back to the university then neither of us has a job."

    "What's that?" asked Blackbird. She tensed, suddenly deeply concerned.

    A noise came from beyond the door to the corridor outside, like a pendulum tick, slowly increasing in volume. It had a sharp metallic quality and a frequency that matched a steady walking pace. It slowed as it approached my door and Blackbird stood, facing the door, body set. The door opened slowly and a tall gentleman wearing a dark grey jacket over a black T-shirt and charcoal trousers stood in the doorway. His eyes swept the room before he entered, taking in each detail, reminding me of the way the quiet policeman had assessed the room, except he didn't look much like a policeman. He looked like a bouncer.

Twenty-Nine

    The tall man entered, stepping sideways, leaving the door wide and placing the wall behind him. His manner was professional and he carried an expression of faint amusement, as if he were aware of a private joke he was unable to share. His hair was short and his ears stuck out slightly. In his hand was a dark wooden stave, about as tall as his shoulder. The top was ornamented with a decorative silver cap and the base was shod with steel. It slid downwards through his hand, tapping sharply as the tip struck the tiles beside his feet. It was an easy movement showing long familiarity.

    "You are Niall Petersen and Blackbird of the Fey'ree." It wasn't a question. "I am Warder Garvin. I bring you the felicitations of the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Courts and request that you stand before them before sunset today. "
    "A request?" I asked him.

    "It's a formality," Blackbird said. Her stance said that she knew this fellow. "They want to see us today."
    "Will you come?" I looked at Blackbird.
    "Where?" she asked.

    "There's an address in Soho Square on this slip of paper." He untucked a scrap of paper from his pocket and leaned forward to place it on the bed. "Be there an hour after noon. We'll take you the rest of the way. "
    "We?" I asked.

    "I brought reinforcements, in case there was trouble. Tate?" He smiled, tipping his head towards the door without taking his eyes from us.

    The doorway darkened and in it stood a huge bear of a man. The way he filled the doorway reminded me of how Gramawl had filled the tunnel below Covent Garden. He had the same bulk, as if he had to lean down to pass through the limited opening. His long hair was gathered back in a clasp and he had a grizzled beard. Grey eyes regarded us from beneath bushy eyebrows. He also wore the dark uniform.