We were on a clock; it wouldn’t be long before the police were dispatched to this address. Somehow I didn’t think you could send half a squadron to sleep and not expect every stone not to be turned by the police officers who were still awake. If they had any common sense, they’d come here eventually. In any case, even if time weren’t of the essence, I’d lost patience with working surreptitiously. Winter obviously felt the same. We didn’t even discuss the matter; we simply strolled through the front doors, ignoring the well-placed CCTV cameras and walked up to the sleepy-looking security guard at the front desk.
‘Hal Prescott,’ I said. ‘Where is he?’
The guard blinked and stifled a yawn. Then he took in our vomity, bloody, bruisy appearances and sat up straight. ‘Er, who are you?’
It was Winter who answered. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter from the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment. We need to find Hal Prescott immediately.’ He leaned forward. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’
Our less than salubrious appearances must have added credence to Winter’s words. The guard was more than eager to help us out. ‘Of course, sir,’ he said. His cheeks turned bright red. ‘I mean Adeptus Exceptus. Exemptus. Shit. Sorry.’ He coughed. ‘Shit.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘Civilians often struggle when confronted by us for the first time.’
He nodded vigorously, obviously relieved that I’d given him reason to act like a stumbling numpty, and turned to his computer. Unfortunately, his relief didn’t last long. After a few frantic key taps, his brows knitted together anxiously. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Prescott isn’t here. He’s informed us that he’ll be away for the next week at least.’
A whole week? My stomach dropped. Whatever Blackbeard was planning, we could be certain that it would be catastrophic. His supposed interview as part of Clare’s coven was on Tuesday; that left at least five more days for him to cause even more havoc and kill even more people.
‘Do you have a mobile phone number for him?’
More key taps. The guard swallowed. ‘No.’
Winter and I exchanged glances. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘you’re going to have to let us into his flat. We need to search it without further delay.’
‘I can’t…’ The guard tugged at his collar. ‘I don’t think I can do that. You need a warrant.’
Winter folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘You’re right. It’s important to stick to the letter of the law. The trouble is that lives are in danger and we don’t have time to get the warrant we need.’ He paused. ‘Why don’t you just tell us which flat belongs to Mr Prescott? We’ll take things from there. Any measures we take will occur without your permission or your knowledge.’
I was impressed. Winter didn’t treat the guard like an idiot and didn’t deny what we were here to do. He did, however, speak with a smooth command that was difficult to ignore and his words had the clear ring of sincerity. ‘If we do nothing, people will die,’ he said softly. ‘I guarantee it. You have the chance to help us stop that from happening.’
The guard swallowed. ‘Okay. Yes. I can tell you which flat is his. But I can’t know about you going in there, alright? I need this job.’
‘All you’re doing is telling us which number he lives in. That’s all. No one will ever know.’ Winter’s voice dropped. ‘Most real heroes are unsung.’
The guard gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. ‘Twenty-three,’ he whispered. ‘Mr Prescott lives at number twenty-three.’
‘You’re a brave man,’ Winter said. ‘Thank you.’ He whirled round and headed for the stairs.
‘There’s a lift waiting,’ I said. ‘It’ll be faster.’
I expected Winter to disagree but he didn’t. He simply nodded and joined me, stepping inside the lift and hitting the button for the second floor. The doors closed smoothly and he turned to me. ‘I lied to that guard,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not something I make a habit of. I’m sorry, Ivy. I don’t usually pretend to be someone I’m not.’
I blinked. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure what he was referring to. Then I realised he’d pretended that he was still with the Order. ‘It was for the greater good, Rafe. You were right. If we can’t find and stop Blackbeard, people will die. The end justifies the means. And you don’t ever have to apologise to me, not for something like this.’
‘I won’t compromise who I am,’ Winter said. ‘The end does not always justify the means. Lose your morals, regardless of the reasons why, and you lose yourself.’
‘You’ve not lost your morals. It was a tiny lie, Rafe. You were Adeptus Exemptus, after all.’
‘It was still wrong.’
I wasn’t so sure. ‘We have to find Blackbeard,’ I said helplessly.
The lift doors opened. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘We do.’
He strode out of the lift with his long-legged gait, moving even faster than he did normally. It was a struggle for me to keep up but fortunately we found number twenty-three quickly. Rather than have Winter agonise further over breaking and entering as well as lying, I jumped in and cast a rune to open Blackbeard’s door. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was a little too strong, however, and the magic slammed the door open with such force that the damn thing almost fell off its hinges.
‘Are you okay, Ivy?’ Winter asked.
I nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘If you’re not…’
I stepped across Blackbeard’s threshold. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ Then I marched in, ready to do battle.
If I were interior designer for a psychopathic murderer, I decided, I would probably aim to produce somewhere that looked exactly like this. The floors were dark tiles lined with dark grout. Slit someone’s throat here and you wouldn’t have to worry about staining anything. One quick mop and you’d never know that blood had been spilt. I thought of Winter’s desire to scrub away at my bathroom grouting. Next time I got the chance, I would get a black Sharpie and colour it all in to look like this. Job done.
The walls, from the corridor to the living room and the bedroom beyond, were all painted in a stark white. I supposed that some people would have described the style as minimalist. To my untrained eye, it looked depressing. Coupled with the unsheathed samurai sword hanging on a wall, together with the gleaming twin knife blades hanging opposite, there was more than a pinch of the sinister.
‘It’s very … clean,’ I said finally, gazing round the pristine, empty surfaces. How could anyone live like this?