"The surface?" Mayfield exclaimed, "Is that a good idea?"

"Shhh. I'll explain later," I hissed urgently, "But we've got to get going, now."

I set off again, practically dragging her along with one hand and clutching the suitcase strap in the other. Mayfield seemed dazed, uncertain, but willing, it seemed, to be firmly guided.

This whole area was a warren of narrow passageways skirting the boundaries of a series of walled enclosures with no obvious structure, quite a contrast to the grand boulevards at the front of the mansions that dotted this neighbourhood. I was heading, I hoped, for the second-closest transit tube entrance. I dodged left and right at the junctions, trying to avoid too obvious a pattern.

The tail, whoever it was, kept up with us, apparently effortlessly, never quite appearing in plain sight. But there were enough unexpectedly shifting shadows and half-glimpsed movement for me to be sure we had not got away. I hadn't expected to shake him, not here, not with Mayfield in tow, but at least I had made it clear that I knew that we were being followed.

I had a trick up my sleeve or, more precisely, in one of the numerous capacious pockets of the long raincoat I habitually wear. I would only get one chance at pulling this one off and I absolutely needed Mayfield's cooperation to make it work.

"Listen carefully," I muttered as we hurried along, "I'm going to pull a fast one. I need you to play long, follow my lead. And, when I say, I need you to be absolutely still and quiet. Can you do that?"

She nodded breathlessly. That was good enough for me.

As I expected, there were a few Goblins on the street close to the transit tube entrance, a few individuals and couples making their way about their own business. I quickly spotted the best candidate: an elderly couple, arm in arm, one of them carrying a large empty shopping basket, walking sedately towards the sweeping stone archway clearly marked "Way In" in the everyday runes of the Goblin alphabet.

"Slow down!" I urged, pointing at the old pair, "Get behind them."

We slipped smoothly into the loose queue just behind them.

"Hunch a little. Take smaller steps," I instructed.

I pulled a highly-decorated cardboard box, smaller than a matchbox, from my pocket and thumbed open the flap at the end. I spoke the few syllables which activated the spell, the words whipped away to silence as is the nature of Goblin magic. The glamour caught instantly, wrapping ourselves and the couple in front in a transparent field.

"One, two... Now!" I commanded, my mouth close to her ear.

Just as we were about to enter the arch, I dragged Mayfield and her suitcase violently to one side. The field parted smoothly, wrapping the old couple in front with an image of Mayfield and myself, and forming an invisibility glamour around the real us. I took a few steps sideways, just around the corner of the arch, and put my finger to my lips to urge silence. I pressed Mayfield into a folded crouch alongside her oversize suitcase, and knelt down on the other side.

If I had got the timing right, our mysterious tail would have seen Mayfield and myself enter the transit tube and would be forced to follow directly. Even without this kind of trick, transit tubes are difficult places to keep up with a person you're following: there are too many other people coming and going into the tubes all the time. You have to keep your wits about you, and stay close, too.

This was a cheap invisibility glamour. I can't afford anything better. These things really only work properly when they are entirely motionless, and they do nothing to limit the effectiveness of an observer's hearing, or their sense of smell for that matter. I couldn't see the transit tube entrance from our hiding-place. No opportunity to find out who was following us. But there was no movement past our hidey-hole, either. I thought our ruse had worked.

After ten minutes motionless, my muscles were beginning to ache. I unfolded slowly, stretching discreetly and looking around cautiously. The tingling between my shoulder-blades seemed to have abated, too.

I tugged Mayfield's arm.

"Okay, let's move."

She nodded, wide-eyed. We set off at a half-run, with Mayfield's case fishtailing behind us, heading for yet another transit tube. We were a few streets away when I slowed to a walk. We were probably attracting more attention by running than I really wanted. It was time to become inconspicuous to the general populace.

"What was that you used back there?" Mayfield demanded.

"A glamour, of course. One which I had custom-made to my own specification."

"Is that legal?"

"Not quite," I smirked, "But don't let it worry you."

There's a little back-street place I know, a dealer in dodgy magics and illegal glamours, a place where all dealing are in cash and no questions are asked. That little trick had cost me a couple of days pay. Maybe I could claim it back as expenses. If Mayfield ever got around to formalising her contract with actual cash, of course.

I took another look around. All clear.

"Now, let's get going. Your little hideaway is probably not a good place to hole up. Too many people know about it. Have you been in touch with Glen?"

"Of course," she said, "By telephone, every day. But he's not at our place in France."

"He's not? That's probably for the best."

"But where can we go?" she asked plaintively, "I don't have anywhere else."

"But I do. A place we won't be seen. Just you and me."

I didn't add, and an extensive stash full of guns and magic. I hoped I wouldn't have to use any of it. And not just because both bullets and glamours are expensive.

Part 43

Part 45