The Lost Plot (The Invisible Library #4)

Evariste frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I think he’s keeping her at his home base, wherever that is. He hasn’t let me see her.’ His shoulders sagged.

‘Right.’ Irene’s voice hardened. ‘So first of all, we’re going to get our hands on that book, in order to make Qing Song listen to us. We’ll need to promise some sort of bribe to get him to negotiate – even if we don’t plan to deliver on it. And besides, if he does find the book himself, he’d leave this world behind and the Library would be left smeared by rumour. So we need to get hold of it, whatever happens. And then, Evariste, we are going to make it absolutely clear to him that he will hand over your daughter and he will leave you and the Library alone in future. Because if not, his whole family will be going down in disgrace, once we reveal what he’s done. I’m not going to give him the book. I’m not going to give either of them the book. I’m going to get your daughter back, and then you and she will be returning to the Library.’

Anger was giving focus to her thoughts – but this felt right. Even if her plan was successful, losing her position as Librarian-in-Residence could be just the start of the price she’d have to pay. But when she looked at the personal consequences to her, balanced against the life or death of Evariste’s daughter . . .

It was no choice at all.

‘Are you both in agreement with that?’ she asked. ‘Because if so, I have a plan.’

Evariste clenched his fists on the edge of the table. ‘Will it work?’ he asked. He turned to Kai. ‘You’re the dragon. You’d know how Qing Song thinks. Will this actually work?’

Kai’s eyes glittered red for a moment, a flash of crimson deep in the pupil. ‘Oh yes,’ he said softly. ‘Qing Song will have no other options. And I cannot bring myself to feel sorry for him.’





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Plaza Hotel was a great square building, as pale and ornate as a wedding cake and as big as some castles. It overlooked an elegant plaza with tastefully arranged statues, trees and fountains. And despite its urban location, it sat alone and impressive amid carefully manicured lawns and gravel paths. The pillared main entrance was flanked by a whole rank of waiting taxicabs, mirrored by a set of horse-drawn carriages on the other side of the road.

Irene walked through the main door without a moment’s hesitation and headed directly across to the main desk. Her heels clicked confidently on the mosaic tiles that covered the floor.

The desk clerk was a polished young woman whose sleek blonde hair gleamed under the light of the overhead chandelier. She sat behind a desk whose top was a single piece of marble, and the wall behind her had a six-foot array of inset buttons and speaking tubes. Two presumably lesser clerks sat on either side of her, murmuring into telephone mouthpieces and taking notes.

‘Yes, madam?’ she enquired politely.

‘I wish to take a suite for the night,’ Irene said, letting her English accent show. She needed to be as visible as possible now. ‘Possibly for several nights. I can’t be sure how long I’ll be staying in New York.’

‘Of course, madam,’ the desk clerk agreed obsequiously. ‘Do you have any preferences?’

Irene waved a hand vaguely. ‘Oh, just something that’s suitable for human habitation. I’ve been told that this is the place to stay in New York. I trust you not to disappoint me.’

‘Our rates, madam—’ the woman began.

Irene looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do not concern me,’ she cut in. ‘You may rest assured that money is not an issue. My comfort is.’

‘If I might have your name, madam?’ the desk clerk asked.

‘Jeanette Smith,’ Irene said. And she smiled.

The desk clerk’s eyes widened. She swallowed. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said quickly. ‘Certainly we can arrange a suite for you. Will there be anyone else in your party?’

‘Some friends may be joining me later,’ Irene said carelessly. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I would like that suite so that I can freshen up. Then have someone call a cab for me. I need to go shopping.’

She turned and leaned against the hotel desk, scanning the lobby. The pale floor tiles and cream walls made the room seem even larger than it already was. Hotel staff in brass-buttoned uniforms trotted back and forth, criss-crossing the room on constant silent errands, like electrical current – or was it voltage? – whizzing around a circuit. (Physics had never been Irene’s strong point. In fact, it was on her list of weak points, along with visual art, human anatomy and the ability to maintain a convincing American accent.) Hotel guests drifted in and out, few of them paying attention to her. For the moment, at least.

The desk clerk murmured into one of her speaking tubes, then turned back to Irene as a hotel porter came trotting up to grab her bags. ‘We have a suite on the twelfth floor, ma’am, which I hope will be acceptable. About the question of payment—’

Irene reached into her handbag, took out a roll of bills, and dropped it on the hotel desk. ‘You will understand that discretion is paramount,’ she said. ‘Also, it is possible that certain friends of mine may be trying to reach me here. They will be asking for someone by the name of Marguerite. I imagine you can handle that?’

‘It will be our pleasure, madam,’ the desk clerk said, her hand sweeping out as quickly as a hungry crab’s pincer to secure the money, making it vanish under the desk.

Irene smiled again. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Irene sat down on her very elegant bed after the hotel porter had left the equally elegant suite, and spent a minute just breathing deeply and allowing herself to relax. Tension had knotted itself permanently into her spine and her shoulders, and coiled around her throat with the thought of the plan ahead. Everything had to go just right.

She reminded herself that she was a professional and opened her suitcase. Inside was the rather battered tourist map of New York. She arranged the map on the quilted counterpane and repeated her now-practised manoeuvre with the Language and the locket. It indicated an area in the Bronx. Good. That was where they’d agreed Kai and Evariste would spend a few hours lying low.

This all felt deeply wrong. Normally Irene’s policy was to work undercover. But this time she was about to go out on the town and see just how much attention she could attract, while Kai and Evariste accomplished the actual book theft behind the scenes.

It was a calculated risk, based on the fact that she was the person everyone had seen so far, while Kai had remained mostly in the background. Qing Song would hope that she could lead him to Evariste, or that he could use her to find the book. With any luck he’d go for her as the easy target, taking the pressure off the other two. As for the local gangsters on the one hand, and Captain Venner on the other, Irene would just have to avoid being assassinated or arrested. But she was used to that.

Time to go ahead with the next step of the plan and focus on drawing attention without getting killed.