No explanation was given for Odette’s lack of orders, and when she offered to assist people, she was politely but firmly rebuffed.
“The Checquy provided the placements for the day,” said Marie as she bustled off to address a million pressing tasks. “And you’re supposed to stay in the hotel. Maybe they want you to keep an eye on your damaged bodyguard. Anyway, it’s a day off. Enjoy it!” Odette nodded glumly. It was too late to go back to sleep, and even if she’d wanted to, the bathtub of gel would be cold. She returned to the suite, where Alessio was just heading out the door.
“Clements went down to the Checquy security floor,” he said hurriedly. “She said she’d be back in a bit.”
“Okay, you have a good time,” said Odette. “I’ll see you tonight.” She turned on the TV and saw nothing but footage about the attacks. I don’t need to see any of that. She sat on the couch and thought crabby thoughts about the world in general.
For God’s sake, you’re in a five-star hotel. There’s a million things to do. Full of resolve, she stood up. World-class gym, a pool, excellent room service, a spa. And Clements to drag along to them all. To her mild surprise, that final prospect didn’t depress her spirits at all. She picked up the phone and dialed Clements’s number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Odette. Are you busy?”
“No, we were getting a briefing, but it’s over,” said the Pawn. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing now?”
“I was going to — nothing,” said Clements. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Well, I was kind of at a loose end,” said Odette. “You want to go to the gym?”
“Oh,” said Clements. “Okay, sure. Come meet me here and we’ll go together.”
Odette changed into exercise clothes and made her way to the elevator, stopping by Marie’s suite to let her know that she was going off the floor, that she was taking her minder, and that she wouldn’t leave the hotel or talk to strangers.
“That’s good,” said Marie absently. She was staring intently at her computer screen and typing feverishly. “You could do with some more time at the gym.”
44
The two guards at the elevator nodded to her when she approached and waved off her explanation. “Clements alerted us to your intended movements,” said one of them, pointing at his earpiece. As he spoke, the elevator slid open. Inside was a man wearing civilian clothes and a bored expression. Odette recognized him as one of the Checquy guards. He didn’t have any weapons, but presumably he didn’t need them.
“Going down,” he said.
“So you’re guarding the elevator all day?” she asked.
“This hotel has six elevators,” he said grimly. “And as of last night, each one has a Checquy guard in it. Plus two in the service elevator.”
“It looks like a plum posting,” she said.
“This is what happens when you lose the poker game.”
She made a sympathetic face and disembarked on the Checquy floor. It was very different from the Grafter floor. Still nice (although not quite as nice), but it had a different air about it. Probably because there aren’t armed guards at every junction, she thought. Also, many of the doors were open. As she passed by, Odette couldn’t help sneaking a peek in. They were in an almost military state of tidiness. Many rooms contained people doing things on computers, and all of the people looked startled when they saw her walk by.
Clements was standing in a room with another Pawn, a woman in shorts and a tank top who appeared to be covered in thorns. Despite herself, Odette looked at the twin beds, checking for signs of shredded sheets, but they were both immaculate. Maybe she can retract them, she thought. The thorny woman gave her a level look and nodded silently before Clements hurriedly ushered Odette out of the room.
“She’s just coming off the night shift,” the Pawn explained. “Best to leave her to sleep.”
“Ah,” said Odette.
“The Rookery upped security overnight, so they’re hot-bunking it.” She caught Odette’s look of complete incomprehension. “That’s where we schedule the shifts so that beds are always occupied.”
“Well, if they’re short of beds, it’s fine if they want to share the ones in our suite,” said Odette in the generous tones of a person who knew no one would be sleeping in her bathtub. “We’re not using them during the day, after all.”
“I’ll let them know,” said Clements. “So, you want to go to the gym? You don’t want to go out?”
“I’m having a day at home, apparently,” said Odette. “Everyone else got assignments. I was assigned to stay in the hotel.”
“Which means I’m having a day at home as well,” remarked Clements. “Well, then, the gym it is, I’ll just —” She paused as her mobile rang and she saw that the call was from a private number. “One second, I’ll just see who this is.”
“Hello?”
“Pawn Clements, this is Rook Thomas. Don’t say anything.”
“...”
“Good. Shortly you’re going to be assigned to a mission. Request permission to take Odette with you. Present it as your idea. Now hang up.”
Clements terminated the call, and stared at her phone.
“Wrong number?” asked Odette.
“Survey,” said Clements.
“Pawn Clements!” came a call down the corridor, and they looked over to see a Pawn leaning out of a doorway. “They want you in the ops room.” Clements turned her gaze back to Odette.
“Why don’t you come with me?” she said.
*
The operations room was actually a suite with an armed guard posted outside. She regarded Odette warily and had to mutter something into a throat microphone and, presumably, receive an answer in her earphone before they were let in. Inside, a number of people sat at desks that obviously did not belong to the hotel. They were all talking on headset telephones in low tones and typing madly. Whiteboards with grids marked on them lined the walls. Odette caught a glimpse of her own name paired with Clements’s. One of the bedroom doors opened, and a man in tactical armor came out. She caught a glimpse of gun racks and other weaponry before the door closed. Were those halberds? she thought incredulously.
Clements led her over to one of the other bedroom doors and knocked. A call of “Come!” came, and they came. It was quieter in there; only two people sat at desks typing. The bed was covered in stacks of files. Near a low desk stood an extremely short person. As in, coming up to just above Odette’s waist. Alessio could have rested a drink on his head, although, judging by the man’s manner, his muscles, and the two pistols in his shoulder holsters, that would have been the second-to-last thing Alessio ever did (the last one being dying messily while apologizing profusely). The short man was talking on one phone and scrolling madly on another. He glanced at them and held up an imperious hand for them to wait. Clements nodded, and they both stepped back and waited. And waited. Finally, Odette turned to Clements.
“He’s not, like, a dwarf, is he?” she whispered. Clements looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “I mean, he’s not a mythological dwarf? Like in Tolkien?”
“There’s no such thing as mythological dwarfs,” said Clements. “Commander Derrick isn’t even a Pawn. The Checquy recruited him because he’s brilliant at what he does. He arranged the security for that pop star who got drunk and made all those comments that managed to offend every major religion.”
“Right!” said Commander Derrick, finishing his call. “Both of you sit down.” They sat. He spoke with an Irish accent and had a deep, growling voice. “So, Pawn Clements, you’re wanted at a site in the Scottish Lowlands. Some sort of manifestation in a church in a little piece-of-shit village up north. A few civvy deaths. They’ve got it contained to the building, but the Rookery wants you to scope the place out before they send in the team.” The Pawn’s brow wrinkled as she took in the order.