I still wore the black wig and skin dye, blood patches and contact lenses under the dark shades, but the facial implants had started to hurt, so I took most of them off. Maygar seemed to think we could avoid the higher grade facial-rec stuff as long as we weren’t picked up...and as long as we stayed away from banks and private residencies in the more exclusive areas.
The Seven employed seers in London who could intercept a breach, as well.
According to Maygar, they would pick up any flags well in advance of the humans...if not perhaps in advance of the Rooks.
Still, despite all the precautions they insisted upon, most of the Seven’s Guard seemed fairly comfortable with my proposed trip and destination. London remained a Seven town, at least in terms of operational majority.
My clothes were men’s, oversized and shapeless, and I wore tennis shoes, making me look like a punk American tourist. On the other hand, considering the multiple versions of my face now in papers and feeds, I figured it was as good a disguise as any. I glanced at another gabled house with high windows when Maygar thrust a carton of juice into my hand.
“Stop looking up,” he said. “And drink. We’re not far.”
“Have you been here before?”
He grunted. “No, Bridge. Your husband and I were never on ‘dinner guest’ terms. Sadly.”
I focused down another row of attached houses adorned with white pillars. Each one had a main story above the road that stretched up double the usual height, with heavily curtained windows. I found myself thinking about seeing Peter Pan as a kid, in the theater.
“Maybe you got the area wrong,” I said.
“And maybe I didn’t,” Maygar said. “You know who he worked for, don’t you?”
I focused on a bronze lion’s head with a ring in its mouth. It stood on a pole in front of steps leading to an entrance framed by more white pillars and perfect, corkscrew shrubs before a heavy oak door. I saw cameras on both sides of the door, but otherwise, I half-expected Mary Poppins to walk out, singing a song.
“No idea,” I said.
Maygar clicked at me softly. “Bastard didn’t tell you anything.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want me to tell you, Bridge?”
I had to think for a minute. “No.”
He shrugged. I could tell he still wanted to tell me.
“Vash had to approve it,” he said, trying to tantalize me instead. “Dehgoies was still officially in penance, so the work he did remained under scrutiny.” Stopping then, he pointed up the street. “There. That’s the one.”
I swallowed when I saw where his finger pointed.
The corner building dominated half of one street block, also white, but taller than any of those we’d passed. Given the height of the windows, at least one of the eight floors came equipped with 20 foot ceilings. Ionic columns of a similar height supported that floor, with smaller versions of the same on two of the other floors, each with ornate capitals in the shape of four-cornered scrolls. Flags rippled above the main entrance, displaying a distinctly British-looking coat of arms. Small trees decorated the upper balconies, cut in precise shapes.
“He lived there? Seriously?”
“Yes.” Maygar let out a quiet snort. “His employers let him have it for security reasons...and because their main buildings are nearby. The penthouse flat was his. It takes up the entire top floor. The rest is leased out to rich humans and foreign dignitaries.”
I focused on the doorman out front, who stood with clasped gloved hands over a fitted jacket. He bent to open the rear door to a stretch limo that pulled up to the curb, taking a woman’s hand to help her out a few seconds later. Watching as more doormen bustled around to remove packages from the inside and trunk, I swallowed.
“Okay,” I said. “You’d better tell me who he worked for.”
Maygar smiled, his light exuding a warm flicker of triumph. “This building, my dear Bridge, is owned by the British government. Around the corner, on that square we just walked through...which is the famous Belgrave Square, by the way...is the Royal College of Defense Studies. Your husband worked there as an instructor.” He gave an odd kind of laugh, shaking his head. “Dehgoies taught worms how to fight seers.”
I turned slowly, staring at him. “You’re not serious.”
“I am,” Maygar assured me. “From what I understand, his addition to the faculty upped the international student count considerably.” Again he grinned. “His name wasn’t given out, of course. Hell...for all I know, he only taught from VR, using an avatar. He contracted for them on the side, as well...but a good seven months of the year he taught tactical inter-species warfare to rich military brats from all over the world.”