Kai was positively bounding with enthusiasm in the thin morning light as it filtered through the fog. He had reacted to Irene’s news about the world where she’d gone to school with genuine sympathy. However, he was clearly excited at the thought of high-level negotiations – and the possibility of demonstrating to his father just how efficient he could be in his new position. (Irene’s attempt to point out that it wasn’t strictly a treaty mission had been shot down on the spot.)

In addition, the thought of a private island in the Caribbean had much to recommend it. Couple this with the fact that they’d be getting away from assassination attempts and Lord Silver’s machinations for a week or two, and Irene could almost share his high spirits. Several cups of coffee had helped. She’d returned at an ungodly hour in the morning, and there had been all the business of updating Kai before she could sleep.

Well, that and the fact that there were far more interesting things she and Kai could do besides sleeping.

‘I’m not sure what the most appropriate garb would be, for this season in the Caribbean,’ Kai mused as they exited their cab outside the Liechtenstein Embassy. Irene had discussed her thoughts on the Fae treaty representative, and he’d agreed to let her fight it out with Lord Silver. ‘You’ll want to dress for your new role as a Library representative, of course.’

‘We can probably get something in Rome while we’re booking our plane tickets,’ Irene said. Part of her rebelled against wasting valuable time in shopping. But if she showed up on Mr Nemo’s doorstep looking hurried and desperate, his price for the book would go through the roof. Even humans knew how to take advantage of customers who had no other options.

They were stopped at the Embassy threshold by Johnson, Silver’s personal servant. As usual, he was a study in dullness, almost aggressively bland compared to his master’s flamboyance, and so very good at fading into the background. ‘How may I assist you?’ he asked. His tone was so neutral it could have been used for a dictionary definition: first person, uninterested.

‘We’re here to see Lord Silver,’ Irene said, with a coffee-fuelled attempt at a smile. ‘And no, we don’t have an appointment. I apologize for calling in the morning . . .’

Johnson hesitated. ‘If you’ll wait a moment, madame.’ He stepped back into the building, closing the door in their faces.

‘I’m not sure how our current state of polite truce equates with us being left to wait on the doorstep,’ Kai muttered.

‘Maybe it depends on what gets tipped on our heads from the windows above,’ Irene speculated. ‘Full hostilities would be boiling oil, invitation to a party would be a bottle of champagne, and a declaration of minor irritation would be just a pot of tea.’

Then the door swung open and they were escorted reluctantly over the threshold.

The interior of the Embassy was strewn with debris from the previous night’s party. Glasses and dishes still littered the room, licentious pamphlets were scattered across the floor and stockings dangled from the lampshades. A solitary cravat had been nailed to the wall with a gemmed stiletto, and the remnants of a game of cards were splashed with wine and blood.

When they passed the main staircase, Kai frowned. ‘Isn’t Silver in his bedroom?’

‘Not at the moment,’ Johnson said. ‘Will you be wishing to see him in his bedroom, sir?’

Kai opened his mouth to say something which would probably have scorched the walls, looked at Irene sidelong, then simply said, ‘I’d hate to think we’d dragged the poor fellow out of bed for such a very minor thing as our visit.’

‘Fortunately for you, princeling, I never went to bed.’ The room they entered was full of feeble morning sunlight, making the furniture and wallpaper look even more expensive and tawdry than usual. Silver was still in last night’s dinner wear, sprawled in an armchair, cravat hanging loose and collar open. His jacket lay disconsolately in a corner, and his shirt was stained with lipstick – at least, Irene hoped it was lipstick. He nursed a glass full of a greenish concoction which was probably not herbal tea.

Across the card table from him sat Sterrington, upright as a wooden doll, still immaculately dressed and gloved. Scattered across the table between them was an ongoing game of cards. Both players had turned their hands down.

‘Gambling, I presume,’ Kai said repressively. He raised an eyebrow, much as Irene had seen his father do once before. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. What are your stakes?’

‘The souls of men,’ Silver said cheerfully. He took a sip from his glass. ‘Would you like some?’

‘It’s a little early for me,’ Irene replied, ‘and we won’t keep you from your game. I called about a business matter. Oh, and to let you know Kai and I will be absent from London for the next few days.’

‘You can’t just waltz off like that!’ Silver protested. ‘What if you’re needed here?’

‘I haven’t been needed so far,’ Irene pointed out. ‘And you Fae have yet to choose a representative from your side. That’s the business matter.’

Silver frowned. ‘My dear little mouse, do I strike you as some sort of vulgar businessman?’

‘You’re the Liechtenstein ambassador. You run one of the biggest spy networks in London. You throw parties which tie up half the city’s police. All these things keep you very busy.’

‘True, but those are all the employments of a gentleman,’ Silver scoffed.

‘Ah. So you’re disclaiming all responsibility for choosing a Fae treaty representative?’

Sterrington stiffened like a hound on point, and Silver set his glass down with an abrupt click. ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t say that at all. Why this sudden pressure, Miss Winters?’

The change in address was a welcome sign that he was taking her seriously. ‘We all know now that Rudolf was going to assassinate Kai last night. Kai was vulnerable not just because he was attending the party, but because he is the dragon representative. And sooner or later someone else will take a shot, and they might be better at it than Rudolf. Without an appointed Fae representative on the treaty commission, any Fae may think they can take action against Kai—’

‘Or against you,’ Kai put in.

‘Yes, though I hope that there aren’t too many Fae out there who dislike Librarians on principle.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Sterrington said unhelpfully.

Irene tried not to stare at the ceiling and pray for strength too obviously. ‘Look, we need a Fae treaty representative as soon as possible. Not just for our sakes, either. You are both involved with the treaty’s success. I would like to point out in the strongest terms that if something Fae-inspired happens to me or Kai, it’s going to go up in flames. And you will be held responsible. I understand that there’s been some debate about who to appoint.’ Partly caused by the fact that Silver didn’t want the job himself but was unwilling to relinquish it to anyone else. ‘When we return, I hope there will have been a decision. Without any more disruptions at your parties, Lord Silver.’

‘I’m still not happy about you vanishing like this,’ Sterrington said, betraying her own interest. ‘What if there’s an emergency?’

Irene shrugged. ‘Let’s hope there won’t be. Besides, when I was given this post, it was in addition to my duties as a Librarian. Those duties are calling.’

‘And Prince Kai?’ Sterrington said.

‘I’m tagging along,’ Kai said, his tone cool. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘It might be inconvenient.’

‘Your convenience is hardly my concern.’

Irene glanced sideways at Kai. She’d asked him to be firm but fair, but he was drifting into the territory of deliberate rudeness. Then she remembered Sterrington had worked for Kai’s kidnappers, so she swiftly changed the subject. ‘I’m not expecting anything urgent to come up in our absence. Are you?’

‘Of course not,’ Sterrington said. But her eyes were dark with thought, and Irene wondered if she’d had other reasons for coming to this London besides stopping Rudolf.

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to tell us where you’re going, my dear Irene? And why?’ Silver interjected.

‘No, I wouldn’t. Library business.’ Irene smiled at Silver, showing teeth. ‘And since we’ve fulfilled our obligations – shall we leave, Kai?’

‘With pleasure,’ he replied.

‘Perhaps we’ll have some good news for you when you get back,’ Silver called after her. ‘We are having the most interesting discussions . . .’

And that almost made Irene hesitate in her plan to force Silver to sort out the Fae representative. Leaving those two behind, together, was a little too close to leaving cats in charge of the kitchen while the cook went out shopping.

But her mission couldn’t wait. They had a plane to catch. Several planes.

‘Forty-two?’ The customs officer looked Irene up and down.

‘I’ve always had people tell me how young I look,’ Irene said, smiling helpfully. The Library had provided a couple of fake passports for this world; unfortunately the age on the woman’s passport was noticeably higher than Irene’s own thirty-something.

The officer didn’t look entirely satisfied, but there was an impatient queue growing audibly more impatient. With a sigh he stamped Irene’s passport and waved her in the direction of Customs.

Kai fell into step beside her. The crowd of people moving through Miami airport was thick enough to cover up the noise of casual conversation. ‘It’s good to be able to stretch my legs,’ he said.

‘Enjoy it while you can,’ Irene said gloomily. They joined the crowd by the luggage belt, a jostling mass of padded shoulders and linen jackets, moussed hair and ankle socks. ‘I suspect we have more travelling ahead of us. The Library’s directions end here – Mr Nemo wouldn’t give them any more information as to his whereabouts.’

‘This shows a truly ridiculous level of paranoia.’ Kai plucked Irene’s case from the belt with casual strength, then his own a moment later. ‘If he’s really as powerful as his reputation implies, why is this Mr Nemo so secretive?’

Irene thought about it as they headed for a phone booth – the last instruction she’d been given by Coppelia. The Library’s link to this world, Alpha-92, was via the Vatican Library, which meant they’d had to route their trip through Rome. Travelling via the Library was a wonderful thing, but it only had one fixed exit to any given world. ‘Maybe it helps build Nemo’s reputation. If he was easy to reach, he’d be less sought after. Like designer clothing. It’s the mystique that counts, even if you could get a good imitation at a tenth of the price.’

‘Well, he is Fae,’ Kai said. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Irene. I will control my tongue in his presence. But if he has agents already watching us, then we might as well give up now.’

They reached the booth. ‘Stand guard, please,’ she requested, and lined up a row of change on the top of the phone. This might be a long call.

She dialled a number – one she’d memorized from the list of instructions in the Library folder – and the phone was picked up after a single ring. ‘Who is this?’ a voice demanded.

‘A person seeking an expensive item,’ Irene replied.

‘Can you give me any identification?’

‘I speak for my organization, and our nominated phrase is, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.’ She wondered who’d chosen the Hamlet quotation: the Library, or Mr Nemo?

There was a pause, then the sound of tapping keys and faint murmurs. Irene fed more change into the phone. Finally the voice said, ‘And your own name?’

‘Irene. Often known as Irene Winters.’

More murmuring. ‘And the item you require?’

‘I would rather not discuss that over an open line.’

‘Very good.’ The voice didn’t sound as if it had actually expected her to give details. ‘Where are you currently?’

‘Miami airport, with one other person.’

‘Another Librarian?’

‘No. A dragon. Prince Kai, son of Ao Guang, King of the Eastern Ocean.’

Another pause. ‘Very good. Please hold.’

Irene pushed more money into the phone as she waited.

‘How’s it going?’ Kai murmured over his shoulder. He was watching the ebb and swell of the airport crowd, casual in his new designer jacket and linen trousers. Unfortunately the nineteen-eighties in this world didn’t have cheap mobile phones and laptops – but they did at least have Armani.

‘All right, I think,’ Irene said. ‘So far.’

The voice spoke again. ‘Do you have a pen and paper?’

Irene bit back a sigh of relief and propped her notepad against the wall. ‘Yes.’

‘Take the next available plane to Paradise Island in the Bahamas – that’ll be the ten-thirty on Paradise Island Airlines. Two seats are being held for you under the names Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. When you’ve arrived, go to the transport desk at the right of the entrance and say you require transport to the Golden House. You’ll need to identify yourself again too – when you’re asked why you’re there, say it’s for the shark-fishing. From there, transport will be arranged to your final destination. Have you got that?’

Irene repeated the instructions.

‘We’ll be seeing you soon, Miss Winters.’

The line went dead.

Irene hung the receiver back up and turned to Kai. ‘We’re in the hands of experts,’ she said drily. ‘Let’s hope we can trust them.’

It was late night as the small plane descended towards Paradise Island. Irene peered out of the window but was disappointed to see a well-lit but fairly standard casino and resort, rather than anything more Amazonian. Bridges below spanned the ocean, linking Paradise Island to Nassau, their lights strung across the dark waters like jewels. Beside her, in the aisle seat, Kai leafed thoughtfully through a tourist brochure.

It had taken only a few minutes on the plane to identify half a dozen men and women who were carrying guns, were distinctive enough to be Fae, or who were just plain suspicious. Other visitors for Mr Nemo? A convention of some sort? There was the woman with the black veil, furs and sharpened fingernails, each nail varnished and gleaming. Another man wore formal dinner wear, his only luggage a pack of cards which he dealt out and reshuffled in irritating repetition on his drop-down table. One elderly individual in first class was so withered and wrapped in coats that their gender was impossible to distinguish. But the figure was sipping brandy as though Prohibition would be redeclared tomorrow.

Conversation died when the plane began to descend. But that didn’t lessen the feeling of danger on the plane, a raw edge that had certain individuals watching their fellow passengers. Perhaps they knew something Irene didn’t and were planning countermeasures for when something – anything – happened. She and Kai weren’t immune from this general scanning for threats; in fact, they might be the most dangerous people there.

In hindsight, Irene could see she’d made one possible mistake. While she herself was not particularly distinctive, Kai was quite visibly a dragon to anyone who knew how to look. His features went beyond handsome and into beautiful, capturing the perfection of an ink-drawing or a marble statue which had stepped down into life. If you could look into a human’s face and see the spirit behind their eyes like a candle flame, then by comparison a dragon was an electric light or a raging conflagration. And that was only their human form. If anyone on the plane had a problem with dragons, then Kai might be a target.

However, as the plane’s wheels bumped against the tarmac, she knew she had to focus on her mission. She only had nine days now. That might not be enough. Stepping off the plane, she knew that she’d underrated the danger of their companions. The passengers eyed each other like wolves waiting for a moment of weakness. The air was balmy and the distant sound of music echoed across the landing field, but tension sang in the air, twisting tighter with every passing moment.

Something very bad is going on, she thought, and I don’t even know what it is. How embarrassing if we end up getting shot because of someone else’s drama . . .

A man whom Irene had tentatively pegged as Yakuza – the tattoos showing at his wrists, the line of the gun under his jacket, the Japanese he’d been speaking to his female companion – politely gestured Irene to go ahead. Irene smiled at him and his partner (who was camouflaging a katana in an apparently innocent golf-club bag) and walked on through, past Customs and into the entrance hall.

At this time of night, there weren’t that many people around, but those who were there were . . . lurking. There was no other word for it. They lounged on benches, apparently scrutinizing books or checking their watches, but their attention was all on the new arrivals.

With a surge of relief, Irene realized that the lurkers weren’t just watching her and Kai – they were eyeing all the newcomers. It was as if they knew that there was someone suspicious on the flight but didn’t know their identity. In which case, this would be the wrong moment to panic and make a run for it.

She caught Kai’s eye and did her best to communicate, act normally, as she pulled her case over to the transport desk at the right of the entrance.

The young woman sitting there put down her magazine and looked up. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, her tone bored.

‘I think so,’ Irene said. She kept her voice at a low, conversational pitch, hoping that it wouldn’t carry. ‘I need transport to the Golden House for two.’

But her precautions were in vain. As soon as Mr Nemo’s directions were out of her mouth, she heard from behind her, ‘Make that for three.’

Irene turned round to look into the barrel of a gun.