Shadows of Valderia: An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir

Getting hold of Jimmy had proven more difficult than they had first thought. Following the Goblin riots the city had become a seething mass of fury, outrage, and casual lawlessness. The more savvy veterans of the city kept themselves at home that day. Shops stood shuttered and definitely closed for business and looting. The more stubborn cabbies had tried to go on shift that morning, but once stories began circulating of horses being carried away by looters, they too had gone home. The boroughs of the city were strangely calm, as if everyone waited with bated breath to see where the next mob would form. With the barricades in place, the heart of the city had walled itself from the rest and there was little commerce in or out. As with most things in city life the boroughs followed the city's example and barricades had been thrown up all across the city sprawl. Some were so big they looked like tsunamis of wood and furniture blocking the main arterial roads of the city, others were a pile of old junk people were just trying to get rid of. Many a minor alleyway in the city had become a dumping ground of unwanted tat. Some barricades were manned, some were just looked at. Most people couldn’t understand the point of them, and there were angry rows all across the city as creatures came out of their homes in the morning to find their way to work blocked by other people’s old junk. Usually events like riots, for the normal everyday citizen, was just another inconvenience of life in the big city, like morning traffic or being mugged. However, nowadays even the most ordinary work a day inhabitant of the city was disgruntled. Whether it was because they had been starved of anything but mush and root vegetables for what felt like years now. Or because the cost of said root vegetables kept going up and their wages never did. Or because work was harder to find than a non-root vegetable. Or because food related crime had become such a big business that you could be killed for the right box of root vegetables. Or hell, just because they were bloody sick of root vegetables. There were many non-root vegetable related reasons to be disgruntled, but none so worthy of rioting over. Plus, if the Goblins were at it then why shouldn’t everyone else too? What made them so special? Fortunately, the rain had returned to thunder its own fury down upon the fractured city. It took incredibly hearty rioters to brave such a torrent. The storm gave the city time to lick its wounds, clear its head, and figure out whose bed it had fallen into and why its head hurt so much..

Ridley and Nairo had managed to cross one of the barricades into the city proper after a night of hiding out in an abandoned hovel just outside Goblin Town. Here, there were signs of a semi functioning population. The wealthy elite of the city refused to have their diaries disturbed by something as silly as another revolt of the unwashed masses. They endeavoured to continue on with their days as normal, with the heartfelt belief that it couldn’t happen here. Stalwart shop owners had braved the storm to half open their shutters, a couple of food stalls had set up but hadn’t put their brakes on, it was as if everyone was determined to pretend like nothing was happening, but ready to run like hell if it did. But the rain had pretty much emptied the streets of any customers, making their gesture, like most gestures, ultimately fruitless.

Parliament had been in session all day which meant no messages were getting in or out and Nairo and Ridley had been rebuffed by the dark suited guards when they tried to enter the Houses. Eventually a coded message reached them from one of Ridley’s little urchin messengers. With simple instructions, and some choice expletives, they were told to wait in a grimy back-alley pub. It was the only type of place that would be open during a riot. The type of place that wanton looting and a well placed firebomb might actually improve the decor of. When they arrived Nairo was less than impressed. The smell of damp and urine hung around the place, mingling with the atmosphere of despondence and inebriation to create a heady cocktail of wasted time and ambition. Ridley had swaggered into the pub with his usual bravado and secured them the darkest corner of the pub by beating a particularly sauced up HobGoblin at some strange game involving cups and a pair of dice that had no logic that Nairo could discern. They had sat in silence for the first hour, Nairo spent her time trying to push down the nausea and guilt that gnawed at her and turned her stomach acidic. Ridley seemed to be quietly ministering to his various wounds and bleedings while they both drank with the steady rhythm of those trying to find a happier place at the bottom of a glass. After several failed attempts, Ridley managed to coax Nairo into passing the time by guessing the circumstances that had led each pathetic patron to find themselves in such a hovel on a weekday afternoon.

“He’s definitely on the run, look how his eyes keep twitching to the door,” Ridley said after spying a furtive little dwarf sitting at the bar.

“I think that’s involuntary,” Nairo replied, sipping wine that would have been better used over a portion of chips. “No, I’m deducing he’s snuck out from his partner.”

“Bullshit!”

“Bet on it?”

Ridley eyed her suspiciously and then assessed the dwarf again.

“Go on then, Sarge.” Ridley leaned back in the spongy booth seat and crossed his arms.

“Dwarves typically wear thick, heavy, marriage bracelets made of some sort of precious metal. You can see the marks on his wrist from years of wearing one. Plus, he’s got a bag of groceries rotting under his chair. I offer that he’s had a falling out with his wife, probably brought the wrong root vegetables, and has found himself drinking away his misery,” she said succinctly.

Ridley nodded, clearly impressed.

“You got quite an eye on you, for a copper. How ‘bout that Troll?”

“Hmmm,” Nairo eyed the tall, gaunt looking Troll standing stock still at the end of the bar.

He seemed to be in that state of inebriation whereby just the act of standing still was sapping every ounce of concentration the creature had left. He was thickly muscled, like most Trolls, and had scars running the length of his arms and a few gashes across his face as well as a chunk of his left ear missing.

“Well, he’s three quarters in the bag and all those scars tell me that he must be some sort of warrior. He could be a Pit Fighter, but none of those wounds look fresh. Troll warriors rarely last long in the city, so perhaps he’s indigent?”

“He’s a what?”

“Homeless. We get a lot of Trolls sort of blown in by the winds, homeless and without any real skills or education. They’re fodder for the Troll gangs and usually find themselves doing some sort of mindless heavy work or worse.” There was a note of sympathy in Nairo’s voice as she studied the drunken Troll.

“Naa, that one there’s a dancer,” Ridley corrected.

“What?” Nairo snorted vinegary wine through her nose.

“He’s a dancer, works up the East End, putting on shows for the rich people. I’m guessing, on account of the current rioting, he doesn't have much to do today other than get pissed.”

“There’s absolutely no way you can tell that by looking at him.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Good thing I’m actually a creature of the city and I know what Twinkle Toes Talbar looks like.”

Nairo looked at Ridley then back to the Troll.

“Are you lying?”

“You tell me.” Ridley shot a wry grin at her and sipped his drink.

“Twinkle Toes Talbar?”

“He likes to wear glitter on his foot claws, they really sparkle in the light when he’s sashaying.”

Nairo burst out laughing and shook her head.

“Is anything you say true?”

“Only the unfunny stuff.”

Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of a young man that looked so out of place in the grimy pub Nairo feared the building might actually reject his presence and spit him back out onto the street. He was a lithy, blonde-haired man, complete with stately cheek bones, matching cherubic flush, and limp chin all topped off with bouncy blonde curls. He had the air of one born to the incumbent upper middle class, well educated, well-mannered, and oblivious to the point of ignorance. He wore a long deep blue morning coat with a matching top hat that made him look like a preening bird looking for a mate in the puddle of greys and browns of the pub’s drab colour palette.

“What about this one?” Ridley asked nonplussed.

“I’m guessing he’s lost,” Nairo replied.

“Very,” Ridley agreed.

The young man spoke to the barman and then smiled politely at a grubby little red tinged Gnome sitting at the bar. The Gnome spat on the floor and the young man’s smile never faltered. He looked absentmindedly around the bar like he knew he was looking for something but had absolutely no idea what. He accepted a glass of port from the barmen and then meandered around the pub smiling Pleasently at anyone willing to make eye contact.

“You think he’s alright?” Nairo asked with concern.

“He might have recently had a head injury,” Ridley said, his eyes never leaving the curious sight.

Finally, the man had woven a path around the bar, right past Nairo and Ridley, and settled himself in the booth behind them. He sat himself directly behind Ridley facing away from them.

“Are you here for the confab?” came a hissed whisper in Ridley’s ear.

Ridley perked up like a dog at dinner and looked at Nairo with a broad smirk.

“Confab?” Nairo mouthed to Ridley who could only shrug in reply.

“We’re waiting for someone,” Ridley whispered back. He turned to face the blonde youth but only saw the back of his golden bonce.

“Is it someone… familiar?”

“If you know him I suppose,” Ridley responded and Nairo snorted into her drink.

“Quite right. Good chap. Say… you wouldn’t mind if I joined you? This subterfuge lark has a chap drinking on his own, what would people think?”

“Umm… sure?”

“Excellent!” The young man burst from his seat and in one fluid motion he swept in a neat circle and flashed a broad, beaming, white toothed smile at them, while whipping off his hat and holding it to his chest.

“Barnabus Archibald-Sterling, but my pals call me Barney,” he extended a bandaged hand towards them and shook theirs vigorously. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I?” He gestured at the empty side of the booth.

“Please,” Nairo said, returning his smile. “I’m Sarg… Sally Nairo and this is Ridley…?” she stopped and looked inquiringly at Ridley.

“Ridley’s fine,” he replied tersely.

“Oh how wonderful, I do love a good mononym,” Barney said without a trace of sarcasm. In fact, Nairo noted, everything he said and did seemed to drip with unwavering enthusiasm. “My name, on the other hand, absolute mouthful! My prep school coach used to say my name had more syllables than a Gnommish menu!” He threw his head back and let out the kind of laugh that only a man who went to prep school could muster.

Nairo couldn't help herself noticing the oddities of the man in front of them. He was young, barely in his twenties, his skin was smooth and buoyant from a youth spent in idle merriment. His diamond blue eyes twinkled in the dim light of the pub, bursting with unbridled enthusiasm. His clothes were clearly expensive, the rich smooth textures of his morning coat and the crispness of his shirt told her he wore clean clothes everyday: a sign of luxury in Verdalia. However, when you looked at him closer, past the radiance and warmth of his disposition and class, there was the shadow of a healing bruise under one twinkling eye, dried specks of something red on his crisp collar, the hand he had extended so warmly was heavily bandaged and even his beaming smile couldn't hide the wince of pain when she shook it. He was certainly curious.

“So you said you were here to meet someone?” Ridley asked, his eyes tracing up and down the man in front of them, noticing what Nairo had.

The broad smile dropped from Barney’s face and he leaned forward, looking left and right, and dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper again.

“Good pal of mine told me to rendezvous on the ASAP, hush hush like, down here. Not my usual haunt, a place like this,” he paused to flick some dirt from the table top.

“I bet,” Ridley muttered. “Not enough silver and butlers.”

“Oh that’s just to start with!”

“How did you know to sit with us?” Nairo asked.

“Oh my chum gave some very clear instructions.”

“Did he now?” Ridley said.

“Oh yes. He told me to look out for the pretty girl and a wally in an oversized coat,” Barney said without any hint of malice.

Nairo burst out laughing while Ridley sank into his coat and muttered dark oaths.

“Sounds like Jimmy,” he said.

Barney’s eyes lit up at the mention of Jimmy’s name and he made an exaggerated wiping motion of his brow.

“Phew!” he exclaimed. “I do love a spot of skullduggery but it’s nice to drop the pretence!”

Nairo couldn't help but smile at their new accomplice’s strange affectations.

“So I take it you’re a part of this mission,” Ridley said.

“Oh yes. Although, I must confess, I’m not entirely sure as to what the caper actually is.”

“To be honest with you Barney, we’re not entirely sure ourselves,” Nairo replied.

“Gotcha. No better way to keep a secret than to not tell anyone.” Barney nodded sagely, his loose blonde curls flopping about.

“Where’s Jimmy?” Ridley asked.

“Not sure,” Barney said, sipping at his little glass of port, pinky figure proudly erect. “There was a bit of a fracas on the way out of the Houses. James’ is a good hand, can't imagine they gave him much bother.”

“So you work in Parliament?” Nairo asked.

“Oh yes ma’am, card carrying man of the Party,” he flashed her another smile and an odd wink.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Ridley said sarcastically.

“Well Jimmy did say you were a dab hand at detectoring and whatnot. You strike me as the highly perceptive sort,” Barney said with a knowing twitch of his eyebrows.

“Well I don't like to brag.”

“Since when?” Nairo said.

“Quiet Sally,” Ridley grunted.

“Don’t call me Sally,” Nairo snapped.

“Why? Is that your nom de plume?”

“Her what?”

“I wasn’t informed about any codenames… hmmm… you’ve put a chap on the spot now,” Barney said stroking his smooth chin in thought. “Can’t think of any names off the top of my bonce.”

“I can,” Ridley sniggered.

“Oooh pray tell,” Barney said, leaning forward with a sincerely eager smile on his face.

Nairo interjected before Ridley could start.

“So which party do you represent?”

“Which party ma’am?” Barney said almost aghast. “The only party as far as I’m concerned! The Party Miss Sally.”

“Oh right,” Nairo said, slightly taken aback. “Not Mayor Pleasently’s party then?”

“Oh heavens no!” Barney’s eyes widened as if she had spat on him. “Those cretins in the M.O.N shouldn’t even be allowed to call themselves a political party. Men Of Now!” Barney harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “What does that even mean? We’re all men of now, apart from yourself of course, Miss Sally. And now you come to mention, frightfully exclusionary name for a party that is. No, Miss Sally, I’m from The Party. Archibald-Silvers have served this fine city of ours since the days when it was just a small group of hamlets surrounded by trees.”

“So what makes you lot so different from their lot?” Ridley asked, scowling at Barney.

“Where to start Master Ridley! Where to start? For one…”

Barney was interrupted by the door to the pub being slammed open. The three of them looked up and saw the rag tag figure of Jimmy limping in followed by a clay lump of a man with a little shock of red hair on his egg head and an overbite that revealed his wonky tombstone teeth. Jimmy made straight for the bar and propped himself up there while rattling out an order to the bartender.

“What ho! James! Over here!” Barney cried, waving his hand in the air.

“Well there goes inconspicuity,” Ridley muttered.

Jimmy looked over and sighed. He grabbed his drink and hobbled over to them, gingerly sliding into the booth.

“Oi Cripper! Over here!” Jimmy called to the massive lump who had parked himself in the middle of the pub and was glowering ferociously, or stupidly Nairo couldn't tell, at the other patrons. He broke his gaze and lumbered over to them, dragging a heavy wooden chair over like it was a child’s toy and plonked himself at the end of their table. The pub quieted again as the regulars lost interest in the strange group and went back to their drinks… well most of them.

“Wot ho, James, good to see you again,” Barney patted Jimmy on the shoulder warmly. “And you, Cripper!”

Cripper smiled toothily at Barney and whacked him on the back in a friendly way. Cripper had an oddly narrow face, as if there was a sinkhole where his mouth should be and the rest of his features were being sucked slowly into it.

“Alright Barney, cheers for getting here early,” Jimmy said, unable to muster the same level of excitement that seeped from Barney’s every pore.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Barney replied as he pulled out a pack of smokes and offered them around. “Never understood all this fashionably late nonsense, since when has tardiness been fashionable?” He asked in a way that made Nairo feel as if it wasn’t a rhetorical statement, but rather a genuine query he hoped Jimmy could help him with. “I’ve been getting acquainted with our charming accomplices, Master Ridley and Miss Sally.”

“Sally?” Jimmy said, turning a wry smile on Nairo.

“Yes, just Sally for today,” Nairo replied, returning Jimmy’s smile with one of her own.

“You look like you've been through it,” Ridley said, helping himself to three of Barney’s smokes.

“Ay… damn M.O.N thugs are swarming like fire ants,” Jimmy said, stretching out his swollen hand. “I’m telling you, the entire Westside must be emptied of hardcases. Pleasently’s recruiting anything with a heartbeat and pair of fists.”

“Terrible business really. I’m hesitant to speak ill of our incumbent but the man really has no decorum. Hiring all these thugs and ruffians desperate for a crust of bread,” Barney shook his head at the sad state of affairs.

“And? How’s that different from the rest of the headcrackers and jawsnappers that roam those ‘hallowed halls?’' Ridley's tone suggested he thought the halls were about as hallowed as a drying dog turd.

“Well of course it’s different!” Barney cried. “We’re men of The Party, men of intelligence and honour, these thugs are… are no better than disloyal mercenaries willing to spill blood for anyone so long as they have two coins to rub together!” Indignance rang through his voice.

“Wots wrong with that?” Cripper growled, glowering under his heavy brow at Barney.

“Oh nothing, of course Cripper, mans got to earn a crust I suppose,” Barney said nervously. “So what’s on the agenda, James? Seems very hush hush.”

“Things are happening the game's afoot. Bit of espionage for our new friends,” Jimmy answered, draining his drink and holding it up to the bartender for another. “Ridley and Nairo… erm Sally, are detectives on a tough one.”

“Ooooh, sounds bloody interesting!” Barney said, paying for Jimmy’s drink unbidden.

“This one’s a conspiracy going all the way to the top,” Ridley said, dropping his voice.

“And people are getting hurt,” Nairo added.

“Aye, so that means mouths shut and none of this ever happened,” Jimmy said.

“Mums the word and fanny’s your auntie’s cousin.” Barney drew an imaginary zip across his lips.

“Yeah right… we need to get to Roger McCormack’s office in the department for Travel and Tourism.”

“Old McCormack? On the sixteenth floor?”

“Yep.”

“Stone me James!” Barney exclaimed. “In the middle of a lockdown? With the whole city rioting?”

“I ain’t got no deathwish Jimmy,” Cripper growled. “Lest you paying lots of gold.”

“How much gold you asking for to kill yourself?” Ridley asked sardonically.

Cripper cast him a dark look and the smirk melted from Ridley’s face.

“What’s a lockdown?” Nairo asked.

“Dark times in the halls of power right now Miss Sally,” Barney replied.

“Pleasently’s backs against the wall,” Jimmy continued. “There’s been calls from within his own party for a vote of no confidence due to his handling of the food crisis and now with all these refugees pouring in, constituents ain’t happy. Two weeks ago one of his most senior ministers resigned and took a good chunk of the Mayor’s internal support. And now, with the riots kicking off, it gives his enemies inside his party the perfect excuse to oust him.”

“Too right if you ask me,” Barney said.

“And the opposition parties are circling too. Vote of no confidence for the Mayor can easily be spun into a lack of confidence for the whole government.” Jimmy accepted his fresh pint from the barmen and took a deep swig. “Pleasently’s gone into full warmode now. He’s enacted some obscure article of the Parliamentary rules and regs to force a complete shutdown of the Government. No messages, no meetings and most importantly, no votes can be carried out for 48 hours.”

“But, of course, our lot aren’t standing for that kind of tyranny,” Barney cried with fire in his eyes. “Pleasently must be madder than a scolded hare if he thinks we’ll just roll over and let him do this!”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be chaos,” Jimmy agreed. “There’ll be warring and battling from breakfast to dinner. Pleasently has drafted in mobs of goons to bolster his number, which means the whole building is gonna be a warzone… well more than usual. They’re planning a big push just after lunch. If our lot can break the lines and get to the Speaker’s Chamber they can force the Members into a session and if that happens they could vote in favour of holding a vote to decide whether they should investigate if Pleasently’s fit to be Mayor.”

“Bloody exciting stuff!”

“No wonder nothing gets done around here,” Ridley muttered. “How do we fit in all this?”

“Don’t you see? Chaos, fighting, dozens of new faces running around the gaff. It’s the perfect time to be able to sneak you two in. I know McCormack, he ain’t sticking around in his office with all that kicking off. He’ll be holed up in some fishing hut out in the Forest as will most of his department. If, and it’s a pretty big if, we can get you in and navigate our way round without running into too much aggro, it should be a piece of piss!” Jimmy drained his glass again and Barney signalled to the bartender.

“Sounds easy,” Nairo said hopefully.

“Oh it won’t be Miss Sally,” Barney replied with a beaming smile. “A chap could get his behind skinned just trying to get to the cafeteria for a spot of lunch at the mo.”

“But I have a secret weapon,” Jimmy said. He looked around and then stood up and reached down the side of his trousers.

“Woah… maybe leave that weapon for your private time with Sally,” Ridley said.

“Shut up Ridley,” Nairo snapped.

“Got it,” Jimmy said as he slid a black tube about the length of his arm out of his trousers and popped the top open.

“What have you smuggled there, James?”

“This is the most up to date map of the House there is,” Jimmy said with pride as he carefully unfurled the thick parchment roll.

“Gosh, I’ve never seen one so detailed before,” Barney breathed in awe. “Look! It even shows the west wing Tea Room! That only got blown up a few weeks ago!”

Nairo leaned forward and studied the map which had begun its life as a simple wall hanging to show visitor’s their current location. Now, however, every inch of it was covered in dense scribbles and iconography that had no key. There were so many haphazard lines and notes it would take some serious study just to be able to find the bathroom. The Houses themselves were a rather typical design from the outside, all squares and rectangles with doors and windows in the appropriate places. The bits the public couldn’t see however, the inside, was a chaotic labyrinth of missing doors, condemned wings, corridors that led nowhere and fiendish booby traps, some of which were so ancient they had disintegrated into dust and bad intentions. Compounding that was the territorial nature of its inhabitants, entire swathes of the House were a no go if you voted on the wrong side. The occupation of key landmarks and geographies within the House dictated political success and were thus fiercely contested. One of Jimmy’s first conquests as a political participant was a bloody, hour long brawl to wrestle back the Tea Room from the Opposition. On a normal day a trip across the Houses was treacherous, in the middle of a lockdown it was suicide.

“Am I reading this right?” Ridley asked. “Is that a donkey?” He pointed to a crude pictogram of a donkey's head on the eighteenth floor.

“I’m fairly certain that’s a horse: the symbol for the Freedom for All Party. They’re an extreme offshoot of the Libs, they’ve got that corner of the House well and truly under fist.”

“Oooh, I don’t know James,” Barney said, peering closely at the map. “Could mean that donkey Fops and Bartley let loose at the Winter Festival party last year.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimmy said. “Might be a wild donkey in there. Who knows? We haven’t been over there for months now.”

“And what’s this blue bit?” Nairo asked.

“Oh that whole floor flooded after some genius thought they could smash through the wall and get a flank on the Oppos.”

“Oh you mean Minister Boggs and his cronies! Hit a bloody water pipe and flooded the whole floor. A chap couldn’t even get a decent cuppa for a week after that!”

Ridley and Nairo exchanged looks and then turned their eyes towards Jimmy and Barney.

“What the hell are you lot doing up there?” Ridley said.

“Oh you know, protecting democracy, keeping the wheels of bureaucracy spinning and all that tosh,” Barney answered oblivious to the outrage in Ridley’s voice.

“So what’s the plan Jimmy?” Nairo asked, still studying the map with fascination.

“It’s simple really, see here that’s the staff entrance.” Jimmy pointed to the ground floor section of the map towards the back of the building. “It’s where all the day's deliveries are brought in. We can sneak you in there disguised as fishmongers.”

“It’s fish and chip day in the canteen,” Barney said, licking his lips in anticipation. “Love a good dollop of tartar with some fresh cod!”

“Mmmmm,” Cripper moaned in agreement.

“Once you’re in,” Jimmy continued. “You’ll lose the brown bags and change into the black and whites. Afraid you’ll be going undercover as servants on account of Sally.”

“No women running around cracking heads?” Nairo asked sardonically.

“Heavens no!” Barney exclaimed. “We may be rough around the edges, but we’re not savages!”

“Good thing they’re still allowed to serve you,” Ridley said.

“You listening?” Jimmy said, tapping the map. “You can change your clothes in the pantry on the opposite side of the kitchen. Once you’re changed you’ll be able to move with a bit more freedom and with everything else going on, the House Guards will have their hands full so I doubt anyone is going to be checking credentials. Make sure you snag a trolley on your way out of the kitchen. You can use the lifter to get up to the first floor. Make your way across the foyer and use the lifter to get up to the third. After that, they’re no good. Pleasently’s goons are stationed outside of ‘em and they search every trolley. Once you’re on the third floor make your way to the mens toilet. Me and Cripper will be there waiting…”

“You two hang around in toilets often?” Ridley sniggered.

“Hush Ridley!”

“Sorry Salley.”

Nairo cast him a dark glare and Cripper growled menacingly.

“Once you’re there,” Jimmy continued. “I’ll hop in the trolley and Cripper will be your escort. He’s usually on server watch so no one will look at you twice and if they do Cripper will make ‘em regret it. From there it should be an easy stroll to Barney.”

“Why can’t you just meet us on the ground floor?” Ridley said.

“Coz the whole place is gonna be a warzone,” Jimmy replied.

“And the Opposition have a target on our man James’ back after what he did last week,” Barney said with a grin.

Jimmy smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah… let’s just say I stole a couple of points from one of their lads and dropped his rank. They’ve been flapping their gums all week about getting me back. Plus, if anyone sees me with you I’m done for if there’s an investigation. Better the less people that can put us in a room together.”

“Sounds smart,” Nairo agreed.

“From the loo, we’ll need to make our way over to Archibald’s Alley on the fourth floor.”

“Named after the Minister famously murdered in front of half the Cabinet,” Barney informed them.

“They catch the fella?” Ridley asked.

“Sadly, no.”

“Ain’t that a surprise,” Jimmy said, smirking at Ridley. “Archibald’s Alley is a Party stronghold and Barney will be waiting for us. He’ll make sure we can get across without any headache. From there, we’re on the correct side of the building so we just need to go up and… well… from there we gotta improvise.”

“Improvise?” Ridley said.

“Yeah. I’m not too sure what will be waiting for us but I know even servants can't be wandering around above the tenth floor without there being an issue. Both the eleventh and twelfth floor on the West wing are under Pleasently’s control and more than likely if we’re gonna see some action it will be there.”

“Plus stairs all burned down,” Cripper grunted, his voice sounding like a bag of rocks arguing.

“The stairs are burnt down?” Nairo repeated, scanning the map to find this information.

Her eyes settled on the twelfth floor West Wing. Where there had been a stairwell was now a red cross and a crude picture of some flames.

“What about these stairs?” Ridley asked, pointing at a large flight of stairs that carved through the centre of the House.

“Pleasently’s goons are all over them. We wouldn't get a foot on those steps before we got a long nap from a short kosh.”

“Gosh, I can’t remember the last time I traversed the main staircase,” Barney said dreamily. “Those were the good days, when Party men had the Chamber!”

“How do we get up then?” Nairo asked.

“That’s where the grappling hook comes in,” Jimmy said, winking at her.

“We have to use a grappling hook to get up a floor in a government building because some Minister burned the stairs down?” Ridley spoke slowly and deliberately, seemingly waiting for someone to correct him.

“Oh I doubt it was a Minister,” Barney said with an airy wave of his hand. “More like some jumped up undersecretary got half in the bag and set the damned thing alight trying to have a smoke!”

“Yup, and what’s worse is, once we’re up there we are officially in restricted territory. None of us have clearance, which is why we need to time it perfectly, if we can hit the lunch bell the whole floor should be empty.”

“Not even Ministers miss fish and chip day,” Barney said solemnly.

“But we’re gonna miss it,” Cripper said miserably.

“No we won’t Crips.” Jimmy patted his shoulder warmly. “Got Shirley down in the kitchens to put aside five portions for us to celebrate with!”

Cripper’s face broke into a broad toothy grin and Barney punched the air in triumph.

“You truly are a legend amongst men, James!”

“I’m glad that crisis has been avoided,” Ridleymsaid, rolling his eyes. “What happens next?”

“Next we sneak around the fourteenth floor…”

“Shouldn’t we be on the thirteenth floor?” Nairo said, tracing with her finger across the map. “Where is the thirteenth floor?” Between the twelfth and fourteenth floor there was just a thick black ribbon of scribbles.. Jimmy shifted uncomfortably and Barney gave a weak cough.

“Well… you see Miss… we don’t… we ermmm… mustn’t discuss that floor. Bad form and all that,” muttered Barney scratching at his smooth cheeks distractedly.

“Don't worry about the thirteenth floor, nothing there we need to be concerning ourselves with,” Jimmy said, moving on abruptly. “Once we’re on the fourteenth floor we need to sneak round to Barney’s office.”

“Ohhh how I do miss my office,” Barney lamented with a dreamy affectation. “Haven’t seen the old gal in months!”

“Once we’re in, all we gotta do is climb out the window, shimmy across the ledge and shin up the drain pipe right to McCormack’s office.”

“Climb out the window?” Ridley said.

“Shimmy across the ledge?” Nairo continued.

“And shin up the drainpipe,” Barney finished with a toothy smile, unsure of what they were doing but happy to be a part of it.

“Only way I’m afraid,” Jimmy replied.

“And that’s where the papers are?” Ridley said.

“Yep. We find the papers. We shimmy back out the window and then there’s a laundry chute maybe fifty yards from Barney’s office. We hop in there and slide all the way back down to the basement, land on a big pile of dirty sheets, and we’re eating fish and chips before lunch is even over.” Jimmy drained his pint, slammed the glass down and looked at them all with a smug grin.

Ridley and Nairo exchanged a glance. A small nod passed between them and they turned back to Jimmy.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Well done Jimmy,” Nairo said.

“So when do we do this?” Ridley asked.

Jimmy peered at the grimy clock behind the bar.

“Bout seven hours? Give or take.”

“Seven hours?” Ridley exclaimed.

“Give or take,” Barney confirmed with a tip of his glass.

“Window is small and we gotta move fast. Speaking of which, we’re gonna need some tools, nothing sharp. Cripper, take care of that and stash ‘em in the bog for us… oh and we need a grappling hook, bag of loose veg and a crowbar.”

Cripper nodded and rose from his seat like a monolith in the sea. He turned without a word and waded out of the pub scowling with ferocious intent.

“Bag of loose veg?”

“In case we run into that donkey.”

“Whip smart our Jimmy,” Barney said with a wink.

“Barney, I need you to get hold of the costumes. Couple brown sack suits and then some serving uniforms, I’ll let you size ‘em yourself.”

“Ooh, a sartorial smokescreen. Smashing!””

“Yeah… if you say. We’ll be needing some lubricants as well, a bottle of good rum, some top shelf smoke, and a good cut of pork.”

“I’ll talk to my chap.”

“You have a chap for rum, tobacco, and pork?” Ridley said.

“Wouldn’t be a man of good breeding if I didn't.” Barney stood, raised his glass and downed it with an elegant flourish. “Fear not James, I’m the chap for the task. I’ll get on it post haste and rendezvous on the ASAP. Master Ridley, Miss Sally, the pleasure was palpable and I wish you luck in our perilous caper.” Barney bowed and bounded from the pub like an excited hound.

“He’s lovely,” Nairo said, smiling after him.

“He’s got a heart of gold,” Jimmy agreed.

“I like him,” Ridley said.

Nairo and Jimmy both turned and looked at him incredulously.

“He called me Master Ridley,” was all he said.

“It has been a strange night,” Jimmy sighed, finishing off his third pint. “Another?”

“I think we better be fresh for the morning…”

“If you're paying,” Ridley interjected.

“Good man. We’ll have one more and get moving. Barkeep!”