“We’d love to come,” Clements said. Ten minutes later, Odette and the Rook were sipping from glasses of Pimm’s Cup while Alessio and Clements (who was technically on duty and also appalled at the idea of drinking alcohol in the presence of her superior) had lemonades.
Inside, the grandstand was hollow — a tall, long atrium with walkways hugging the walls and escalators leading up. More Union Jacks were scattered around, but the architecture was all so futuristic that the race-goers looked as if they had been Photoshopped in. The Royal Enclosure appeared to take up about half of the building. As the four of them moved through a crowd at the base of an escalator, the Rook paused and looked back, slightly bewildered.
“Are you all right?” asked Odette.
“Yeah, I just...” She trailed off. Her eyes narrowed. “No, I’m fine.” She led them through the grandstand and out onto the grass by the racetrack. They placed their bets with the bookmakers according to their own personal systems. Rook Thomas and Clements studied their form books avidly and picked the odds-on favorite while Alessio picked his horse because of its name (Watson’s Crick), and Odette was lured by the colors one jockey was wearing (a scarlet Y on white, which reminded her of an autopsy).
“That’s the royal box up there,” said the Rook, pointing to the middle of the grandstand where a curved structure was bulging out of the wall. “At this very moment, the monarch, the royal spouse, and various royal hangers-on are in there, looking out at us and eating crisps.” Odette squinted up. There was a small, tasteful royal crest under the window. The glass was lightly tinted, but she could dimly make out people inside. Well, it’s cool to have probably seen the ruler of Great Britain, she thought.
Off to the side, beyond the bookmakers, she could see the other sections of the grandstand. They were far, far more crowded and extended much farther along the track. The people inside looked like battery race-goers. Then the race began, and she was buffeted slightly by the roar of the crowds. The rumbling of the horses drew nearer and Odette found herself shouting wildly with the rest of the people. Alessio jumped up and down and yelled like a mad thing. Even Clements was cheering.
To Odette’s delight, her horse came in an unlikely second. She and Clements left Alessio with Rook Thomas while they went to the bookie to pick up Odette’s thirty pounds. They returned to find the Rook talking on her mobile phone and appearing extremely perturbed. Alessio was looking on in fascination.
“No, tell them to keep it quiet,” she said into the phone. “Threaten them with the Official Secrets Act. Thank God the security guard had the sense not to announce it to the world.” She listened for a moment. “No, they’ll want this to get out even less than we do.”
“What’s happening?” Odette asked her brother.
“I don’t know, but the Rook is not happy. Really not happy. I learned several new words.”
“Well, in that case,” said Rook Thomas, “conference the racecourse chief of security in on this conversation.” She paused and addressed her companions. “Something has happened here. It looks as if it falls within our purview.”
“Here at the racecourse?” asked Clements.
“Here in the enclosure,” said Thomas flatly. “A man is dead.”
“What are we —” began Clements, but the Rook held up a hand and listened intently to her phone.
“Major Llewelyn, this is Dr. Nicola Boyd. Do you acknowledge my authority?” She nodded in satisfaction and then caught the startled gazes of Odette, Clements, and Alessio. She made a face that meant It’s a secret government thing; I’ll explain in a moment and turned her attention back to the phone. “Excellent. All right, I think we can agree that we want this to stay as quiet as possible, so no police, no ambulance. Your security guards can keep everyone out of the bathroom for the moment.” She paused. “Give them my name and tell them to admit me and anyone accompanying me. I’ll be there in five minutes, and I’ll be able to tell you if it belongs to me, or if we turn it over to the police. Fine. I’ll call you back shortly.” She hung up and turned to them.
“Nicola Boyd is one of my working aliases,” she explained. “She’s something high up in the Home Office. Now, I have to go look at this and decide whether or not it’s within our bailiwick.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully and glanced around. “I want Pawn Clements for this, and I don’t think it would be wise for us to leave you two alone. So you should come with me.”
“Is it safe?” asked Odette.
“Yeeeah... probably,” said the Rook unconvincingly. “But you’ve got me and Pawn Clements, so it will be less unsafe than it might otherwise be.” She paused briefly and mentally parsed what she’d just said. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Rook Thomas,” said Pawn Clements. “You might want to take off your badge that says Myfanwy Thomas on it.”
“Ah, good catch.” She led them up the steps and into the grandstand, up a couple of escalators, and down a corridor. They stopped in a comparatively quiet corner in front of a handicapped restroom. Two uncomfortable-looking men in dark suits flanked the door.
“I’m sorry, miss,” said one of the guards. “This lavatory is out of order.”
And so it needs two security guards? thought Odette. Great cover story.
“Gentlemen, I’m Nicola Boyd. You’re expecting me.” They nodded in relief, although they looked a little startled at the company she was keeping. Apparently, people didn’t usually bring thirteen-year-old boys to crime scenes. “Have you looked inside yet?”
“I found the body, ma’am,” said the guard on the left. “It’s — it’s pretty horrible.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve never seen anything like it, he’s all —” Rook Thomas held up a hand.
“Have you told him” — she nodded at the other guard — “what you saw?”
“No, he hasn’t, ma’am,” said the guard on the right. “Just that there’s a dead body. Major Llewelyn ordered him to say nothing else.”
“Good,” said the Rook. “Now, what’s your name?” she asked the guard who’d found the body.
“Ralph,” said Ralph. “Ralph Witt.”
“All right, Ralph, did you touch anything while you were in there?”
“Just the door handle. And I was sick in the corner,” he added apologetically.
“We’ve all been sick in a corner at some point. But are you sure you didn’t try to check the person’s vitals or anything?” asked the Rook. “Take a pulse?”
“No, ma’am,” he said with certainty. “You’ll, um, see why when you go in there.” The Rook nodded unenthusiastically.
“Are you prepped?” she asked Clements.
“Yes, ma’am.” The Rook and the Pawn opened their purses and took out sealed plastic packages containing surgical masks and latex gloves. The two women donned them after removing their hats and putting them on a nearby chair.
“You two,” said the Rook to Odette and Alessio, “will stay out here. Mind the hats.” They nodded obediently. “If someone starts approaching you in an odd way, just, um, bang on the door and scream, and we’ll come out.” She didn’t stop to see the Grafters nod.
Just bang on the door and scream? thought Odette incredulously. She looked around and saw no one moving in a manner that suggested supernatural hostility.
“I’ll go first,” said the Rook. She opened the door a little and stepped through. They heard her gasp and then exclaim, enraged, “Oh, fucking hell!” Everyone froze. “It’s fine, Clements, you can come in,” she said finally. Clements went and the door shut behind her. There was a silence that some might have described as “ominous.”
Then the door opened, making Alessio and Odette jump. Clements emerged, looking a trifle dazed. She pulled off her gloves and mask and walked over to her handbag to pull out another plastic package.
“Here,” she said, offering it to Odette.
“Here what?” said Odette.
“Rook Thomas wants you to go in,” said the Pawn. “She wants your opinion.”
“My opinion? On what?”