The Kindred of Darkness by Barbara Hambly Page A

living the existence of the nest. ’Tis curious that this interloper, knowing himself in a strange city with a powerful master, would kill in this fashion. What does he do, that he would
need
to kill so?’
    He looked about him at the dingy flowered wallpaper, the narrow bed. ‘And where is James during all of this? I take it you are in London—’
    â€˜Yes, at the Women’s Temperance Hotel on Blomfield Street. James is at a philology conference in Venice, lecturing on Balkan dialects. I wired him this morning.’ Already it seemed weeks ago. ‘At the same time I wired you, but I’ve heard nothing. I think he must have gone on from Venice to … somewhere else …’
    Her voice faltered. Another woman might have suspected an errant husband of marital divagation. Lydia’s own fears ran deeper than that. James had often said that no one ever really left the Department: working for them was more than something you did. It was something you were.
    Since October – according to both Jamie and to her friend Josetta Beyerly – warfare had again raged in the Balkans, as the small nations that had broken from the Turkish Empire in the previous war in May turned on that weakened giant (and one another, James said) with demands for more territory. With Russia egging on the three attackers there was a very real danger (James said) that Russia would be drawn in to fight the Turks – who would call on their allies the Germans, causing Russia to call on
their
allies the French, who for forty years had been waiting for an excuse to attack Germany and retrieve territory lost in a previous conflict …
    Even as Germany champed like a racehorse in the gate, seeking the first justification to launch itself at France in the hopes of a quick victory and the chance to seize France’s possessions in Indo-China, in Africa, on the far-flung islands of the Pacific.
    Europe is a powder keg
, Jamie had said before he’d left for Venice,
waiting for a spark
…
    Maybe that was why James had finally gone.
Venice is next door to the fighting.
    â€˜Have you sought this invisible interloper?’
    â€˜I have detectives going through the shipping records from the end of January. I think he must have fled Montenegro when the fighting started. Once I can find a name, or names, I’ll start checking the land registry office, though of course he may not have registered a sale—’
    â€˜I never do.’
    â€˜What I really need is bank records. I’m guessing Zahorec will have used Barclays Bank, since they have offices in Bucharest and Sofia. I don’t know if Jamie can get that information out of his old colleagues at the Department.’
    â€˜It may be that I can assist in this matter. One would not wish James’ former colleagues – worthy men as I am sure they are – brought in any way to notice this interloper. One never knows what they will do with such information, nor where such trails may lead.’
    Lydia regarded him with widened eyes. ‘Can you do that?’
    â€˜Think you that such matters lie beyond me?’ And, when she did not reply, but looked aside with a sudden flood of hope coloring her cheeks, he asked, ‘Aught else, Lady?’
    She hesitated for so long, her heart pounding (
which he can perfectly well hear, drat him
), that he repeated softly, ‘Aught else?’
    She almost whispered, ‘The Bank of England.’
    Stillness after the words, like water frozen to silence. In the street a drunk raised his voice in song, faded again.
    â€˜Barclays were more likely, for Zahorec to use.’
    â€˜Not Zahorec,’ she said. ‘Grippen.’ She looked back at him. ‘That’s where he kept his money back in 1907. I won’t do anything silly,’ she added, a little defiantly. ‘But I need to know where they are. Miranda and Nan. I need to know they’re all right. I think they’re