Ghostly Echoes (Jackaby #3)(70)

“It’s the fate of all mankind, then, sir?” I said. “Grand. That’s grand. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, shall we?”

“I still don’t understand,” said Charlie. “Where are we going?”

“We’re visiting an old friend,” said Jackaby.

“An old enemy,” added Jenny. She had vanished from sight as we wound our way through the streets, but her voice remained clear and close at hand.

The sun was easing toward the horizon and the sky was warming to a rich burgundy as we made our way into the heart of the city. While we walked I finished the story, telling Charlie about what had happened after I emerged from the underworld, about Finstern and his treacherous sister, Morwen, and about her underhanded escape.

“It’s Morwen we’re after now,” Jenny added darkly. “We will finish this tonight.”

“Don’t leave off the clever bit,” Jackaby piped in. “Miss Rook put all the pieces together. I’ll have to give you a raise if you’ve got it right.”

“You always just tell me to pay myself whatever sounds reasonable from the accounts,” I said.

“Well, I will instruct you to pay yourself slightly more.”

“I didn’t do anything all that impressive, anyway,” I said. “I simply took what we already know about Morwen and connected a few strings. We know that she was raised by her father—a secretive, manipulative magic man. It’s a fair wager he’s our puppet master, or one of them, at least. We also know that she was already here in New Fiddleham over a decade ago, doing his dirty work. In those days Morwen worked for Mayor Poplin in the guise of his secretary. Poplin had a history of corruption, and my guess is he was an easy mark for their plans. His Technology Center was nothing but a cover story for their sinister science project.”

“Which is why Mr. Carson destroyed it,” said Charlie.

“Right, but that wasn’t the end of it. Poplin had bled the city dry to fund the project, so when it went up in flames he went up in smoke. He lost favor fast and an idealistic candidate named Philip Spade was elected in a landslide to take his place.”

“You think Mayor Spade is connected to all of this?” Charlie asked.

“I think the clandestine Dire Council had lost more than a building and a half-finished machine,” I said. “They had lost their political hold on New Fiddleham. They had to regroup. They needed a firmer grip on the city, and I don’t believe for an instant that they just cut their losses and moved on.”

We had arrived at the mayor’s estate. Jackaby took the lead as we marched past the immaculately trimmed gardens and up the walk until we came to a white door framed by broad marble pilasters. “The thing about idealists,” he said, knocking on the door, “is that they have a habit of being hopeless romantics, as well.”

“Which is why we believe that the nixie, an experienced temptress and a shapeshifter, was ideally suited to infiltrate Mayor Spade’s personal life and become the real power behind the throne.”

“Wait—Mary?” Charlie said. “Mary Spade?”

“Two simple words, yet as much a command from her superiors as a new identity,” said Jackaby. “Mary Spade.”

Spade’s butler opened the door and sighed audibly.

“Bertram, my good man,” said Jackaby, “Do show us in.”

“No,” Bertram said. “Mr. Spade is not seeing guests at this hour, Mr. Jackaby, and certainly not you. If you wish to conduct business, you will need to make an appointment with the mayor’s office in the morning, not harass him in his personal residence.”

“Ah, but you see, we’re not here for the mayor this time. We’re here for his wife—only I imagine we’ve just missed her, haven’t we?”

Bertram raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Spade is not available.”

“Getting awfully late in the evening for the lady to be out, isn’t it? I imagine she has a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”

“Mrs. Spade is indisposed, Mr. Jackaby,” Bertram interrupted. “That does not mean she is not on the premises. Oh, good heavens. What has happened to your face, young lady?”

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Indisposed?” said Jackaby. “She’s called for a bath, hasn’t she?”

“Not that it is any of your business what my lady is—”

“No! She can’t!” Jackaby shoved through the door. “Quick, we need to stop her before she gets into the water!”

“How dare you!” Bertram exploded. “Stop right there!”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Philip Spade stood at the top of the broad, curving staircase, his bald head and bushy beard jutting over the banister as he adjusted his glasses. He had already changed into a pair of navy blue pajamas for the evening.

“Hello, mayor!” Jackaby leapt up the stairs three at a time. “Delightful to see you again.”

“Why on earth are you here?”

“You’ve been a great ally in the past and helped me out of more than a few tight spots. Now we’re here to help you out of one of your own. You can thank us after.”

“What are you talking about? Hold still, would you!”