“May I introduce Miss Odette Leliefeld, one of our guests today,” he would say, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “I’m just escorting her around the facilities.” Odette would smile and automatically offer her hand and would then be treated to a brief look of horror and a reluctant handshake. Some meaningless chitchat would ensue, Odette trying to be reassuringly normal and polite, and finally they would move on. She very deliberately did not look behind her, but she was certain that if she had, she would have seen her new acquaintance wiping his hands on his trousers. After each introduction, Pawn Bannister smirked for a little while in a self-satisfied way.
I’m being used to build his damn CV, she thought resentfully. He just wants everyone to know that he’s been entrusted with the Grafter chick. She kept a pleasant expression on her face and looked around curiously at the offices. Most of what she saw was disappointingly normal, with people working in cubicles. She could actually track the spread of the e-mail alerting people to her presence as heads popped up, looked around, and then ducked down again. One thing that caught her eye was that each cubicle was equipped with large cupboards that ran the length of the dividing walls.
“What are those for?” she asked. “They’re not filing cabinets?”
“No, those contain go-kits,” said Bannister airily. “Every member of the Checquy has a kit. They include clothes for different environments and conditions, survival gear — sleeping bag and so on — and tools. Also a laptop. Satellite phone. Emergency beacon. And, of course, body armor, in case they’re called to a combat situation.”
“You said this was the Payroll section,” objected Odette.
“It is,” said Bannister. “But every Checquy member, Pawn and Retainer alike, must be ready for the call to duty. We are all weapons, and at any time we may be summoned forth to stand between the people of these islands and the threats that rear up against them.”
This was delivered in a tone of the utmost pomposity, and it washed over Odette unpleasantly, like an upended bathtub of dog slobber. She had to lock her facial muscles in an expression of polite awe.
“And besides,” continued Bannister, “many of us possess a specific ability that may prove useful in a specific scenario. There’s a man who works in the mail room who is always getting called out because he can deflect lightning back into the sky. And Rochelle, who works down in the motor pool — her presence increases people’s fertility, so she’s often brought in to attend, um, events.”
“Oh, we can probably help with the fertility thing as well,” said Odette brightly. “I’m very good at in vitro fertilization — you can even pick the gender of the baby if you want to.” She had to give Bannister credit — he managed to conceal almost all of his revulsion at the thought of the dreaded Grafters tinkering around with Checquy genetic material.
“Yes, that does sound very helpful,” he said, his mouth twisting a bit over the words. “Speaking of medical affairs, here is the medical center.” He guided her through a pair of double doors, and she breathed in the familiar antiseptic smell of a hospital. “I expect your people will be doing most of their work either here or in the Comb.” Behind her, there were carpets and walls with pictures; before her, there were gleaming tiles and people in white coats moving about purposefully. She immediately felt more comfortable and relaxed a little.
“What’s the Comb?” she asked absently.
“The Comb is our major research center,” said Bannister. “It’s out in Oxfordshire; lots of labs and technical facilities.”
“Sounds nice,” said Odette. “So why do you have a medical center in a government office?”
“A number of reasons,” said Bannister. “All the Pawns have to have regular checkups in case our powers change. Many of us have entirely unique physiology, so we can’t just go to the local hospital if we get hurt or sick. One of the boys who used to be at the Estate didn’t bleed blood if he got cut. Instead, a sort of sentient arsenic mist would come out and chase people around the cricket pitch.”
“Gosh.”
“And if they identify a civilian woman who’s pregnant with a Checquy-style baby, they’ll usually try to pull some strings and have her give birth here,” Bannister went on airily. “They tell her it’s a private hospital and that it’s a high-risk pregnancy that only the experts can deal with. Which is true.”
“And then they take the baby?” said Odette.
“It depends.” Bannister shrugged. “They have many different ways of getting kids. And then, of course, there’s trauma.”
“I bet,” said Odette. “Losing a child would be hard.”
“No, the combat-trauma department. If any of our troops get injured, they try to transport them here or to the Comb.”
“I thought the Hammerstrom Building was the place for domestic operations.”
“I think the traffic isn’t as bad around here,” said Bannister. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “There’s Dr. Crisp.” He pointed down the hallway at a gaunt-looking man. “He’s usually at the Rookery, but he’s very important in the Medical section, and I know he’ll want to meet you.”
“I don’t know, he’s probably awfully busy,” said Odette. “And, look, he’s just going.” The doctor had vanished around a corner. “Oh, well, perhaps next time.” Thank God; I can’t take another point-scoring exhibition.
“No, no, I’ll just get him,” said Bannister, trotting off. “Wait there, we’ll be right back.” Odette gave a little sigh and looked about. Standing in a hallway, with her large visitor’s pass dangling around her neck, she felt extremely conspicuous. Across from her was a break room with a little kitchen, some chairs, and a table. When Bannister failed to return after a couple of minutes, she moseyed in casually to have a little snoop. I wonder if they have supernatural coffee, she mused.
As it turned out, they had disappointingly mundane coffee, and there were no miniature cafeteria workers toiling in the fridge or cupboards. A notice board hung on the wall, and Odette recoiled when she saw that, between a flyer warning about flu and an advertisement for a set of bunk beds, there were pictures of several of the Broederschap delegation (including herself) with a note explaining that they would be visiting and should be afforded every courtesy. This charming and hospitable sentiment was spoiled by the fact that someone had modified the portraits with a pen, providing them with hats, horns, and a selection of unlikely dental abnormalities. Odette’s own picture had been augmented with goat eyes and a long mustache in the style of Fu Manchu.
Lovely, she thought. That’s just lovely. Then she spun around as two Checquy workers entered the room, chatting easily.
“...And I said, ‘I don’t doubt that you’re the reincarnation of Pawn Muskie who died in 1934, but the Checquy is not going to be paying his pension to you because pensions stop when you die.’” The speaker was a skinny, unshaved man with long, tangled hair that seemed to float after him as if he were in space. Odette hurriedly stood in front of her portrait and tried to look casual.
“So what did he say?” asked the other Pawn, a plump man with compound eyes that glittered beautifully behind an extremely intricate pair of eyeglasses.
“He asked what the point of reincarnation was, then. Morning,” he said to Odette.
“Good morning,” she replied. It was clear he had no idea who she was. They probably didn’t recognize me without my mustache and goat eyes, she thought sourly.
“Morning,” said the insect-eyed Pawn as he started pouring coffee. “Well, meanwhile, the Cheltenham branch is operating out of the Hyatt for three weeks while their office is cleansed of asbestos.”
“That’s a brand-new building, though,” objected his friend.
“Oh, it’s not the building. The office manager started shedding without realizing it. Three people ended up in hospital, including a civilian janitor. So now the whole place has to be cleaned, and he’s down at the Comb, getting his new traits examined and cataloged.” They finished making their coffees and strolled out, nodding to Odette.
Well, they can be perfectly pleasant when they don’t know who you are, she thought as she wandered back into the hallway to wait for Pawn Bannister to appear. She leaned against the wall, and immediately the lights above flickered, and an alarm blared out of hidden speakers.