Naturally, he broke all the Estate records for the throwing sports (except for the javelin, because one girl in his class managed to fold space so that her javelin landed in China). He also became a master of the bank shot, sending his weapons ricocheting off walls and around corners before traveling much farther than they should have.
All of which was very nice and impressive, especially at school sports days, but proved to be of little use in his career with the Checquy (beyond getting him in the door). Though Raushan excelled in all his studies, he showed special aptitude for business and the law. At the age of seventeen, he underwent the amrit, the Sikh ceremony of baptism. There had been some concern among the Checquy higher-ups that this dedication to his faith might constitute a conflict of interests, but Raushan never wavered in his loyalty to the organization.
Upon graduating from the Estate, Pawn Attariwala did not go for initial placement within the Checquy or a cadetship in the regular government. Instead, he went to Cambridge to study law. He did well enough that the Checquy altered the career course it had previously mapped out for him.
After earning his degree, he worked for a year in the Rookery before being seconded to the Ministry of Defence. Unusually, he was not provided with a cover identity; he merely presented himself as Mr. Raushan Attariwala, on loan from some other government department. He spent the next twelve months working hard, making friends, and learning how things worked in the nonsupernatural civil service. Then he was recalled by the Checquy, who put him to work at the Annexe helping to coordinate foreign operations. After that, he was on secondment to the normal government again, this time to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. His career continued in this vein for several years, Pawn Attariwala alternating jobs at the Checquy with jobs in the regular civil service. Apex House; the Home Office. The Checquy’s outpost in Edinburgh; the Cabinet Office. The Comb; the Attorney General’s Office. Always working under his own name.
At the end of the decade, Pawn Attariwala was transferred permanently to Apex House. By that time, he was familiar with most aspects of the Checquy and had extensive contacts throughout the regular civil service. He was also married and had two small children, neither of whom gave any sign of possessing unusual capabilities.
Attariwala spent decades in the higher echelons of the Checquy in the role he had been groomed for, working under the Bishops as the key liaison between the Checquy Group and the central government. A true mandarin, he was accustomed to dealing with the most powerful politicians and bureaucrats in the United Kingdom and to exerting the Checquy’s authority.
His career was marked by impressive highlights. He fabricated an outbreak of meningitis so that the entire nation was inoculated against mind-controlling maggots. He drove a Gorgon out of the country, not through any supernatural or military means but rather by unleashing constant audits upon her personal and business finances. He argued successfully with the Treasury for a 5 percent increase in the Checquy’s budget allocation.
Indeed, he was so adept that he was usually the person called upon to act in the role of Rook or Chevalier when the regular person was away. As a result, when one of the Rooks was promoted to the rank of Bishop, almost everyone in the Checquy expected that Attariwala would replace that Rook in Domestic Operations. There had been much surprise, and not a little outrage, when instead the young and notoriously timid Myfanwy Thomas was put in the role. Pawn Attariwala impassively accepted the massive injustice, went into his office, and, to the astonishment of his staff, didn’t smash anything at all.
Even when Rook Thomas proved to be capable (if incredibly introverted), some resentment on Pawn Attariwala’s behalf still lingered. When Bishop Grantchester was revealed as a traitor and discreetly assassinated, there was no question who would fill the vacancy. Bishop Attariwala was installed in his new office in Apex House and assumed his duties without hesitation or difficulty.
There was, however, considerable friction between him and Myfanwy. He still resented her for taking the position that should have been his. The fact that he now had authority over her only made it worse, and it would have done her no good at all to explain that it was a different Myfanwy Thomas who had taken his job. Whenever the two met, his manner was imperious, and Myfanwy, who felt a certain affection and protectiveness for her previous self, was disinclined to be diplomatic.
*
When Myfanwy entered Attariwala’s office, the Bishop had his back to the door and appeared to be reading an extremely important and absorbing paper. It was so important and absorbing that he did not acknowledge her arrival even though she had knocked and his executive assistant had buzzed him to advise she was there. Myfanwy rolled her eyes and moved to the chair in front of his desk. She noticed that he was twirling a pen around his thumb, and she couldn’t help but tense up. Given the Bishop’s abilities, it was like anyone else absently twirling a loaded gun.
I’m not clearing my throat, Myfanwy thought, and she sat herself down comfortably in the chair. She opened her notebook and began industriously writing down a shopping list. The sound of her scribbling apparently made an impression because Attariwala put down his paper, turned, and acted surprised to see her there.
“Ah, Rook Thomas. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Now, I’ve asked you to come here because I have some very serious concerns.”
“Sir?”
“Last night, you left the reception at the hotel to inspect a manifestation site.”
“Yes, sir,” said Myfanwy.
“Your absence was noted.”
“That’s hardly astounding, since I told several people, including Bishop Alrich and Lady Farrier, that I was leaving,” said Myfanwy tartly. “And the heads of security for both the Checquy and the Grafters.”
“I’ll have to ask you not to call them that,” said Bishop Attariwala. “It may be an offensive term.”
“Excuse me? You mean Grafters?”
“Yes. We’re not certain, but it may be a term of hatred.”
“I think it’s probably a term of hatred because of our long history of hating them,” said Myfanwy mildly. “If we called them the Shimmery Pistachios, Checquy operatives would use that as an epithet.”
“Be that as it may, until the committee comes back with a decision on it, kindly do not use that word. We must make every effort not to insult them, which is why your desertion of our guests last night was so ill-advised.”
“But —” began Myfanwy. She was about to point out that it was hardly desertion of their guests since she had taken Graaf Ernst van Suchtlen and his apprentice with her, but the Bishop cut her off.
“And you took Graaf Ernst van Suchtlen and his apprentice with you! It was highly inappropriate and highly irresponsible.” Despite herself, Myfanwy felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “Rook Thomas, you are well aware of how dangerous manifestation sites can be. Just this morning, one of the investigators encountered something at the burned-out row house. He was enveloped in a cloud of mist and his skin began to melt. What if something like that had happened to either of your guests last night? You could have done irreparable damage to the negotiations!”
Myfanwy couldn’t think of anything to say. She’d taken down monsters and men, but she was having trouble mustering up an attack on a reasonable argument.
Crap, she thought, he’s right. It was stupid. Unforgivably stupid. Of course, there was no way she would admit that to him, but it burned inside her. She kept her mouth shut and her expression unimpressed.
“Matters are even more complicated, however,” said the Bishop. “I have seen the preliminary findings from the row-house investigation.” Myfanwy felt her face twist a little at that. She hadn’t had time to review those findings yet. “I noticed that the head of the assault team put in an encrypted request for consultation with the Rooks.”
“Yes,” said Myfanwy.
“What did she want?”