The room instantly dissolved into uneasy groups of people, eyeing one another dubiously. A couple of gamblers were surreptitiously ignoring the house rules and scooping their stakes off the tables.

The CENSOR group’s leader pulled out an ID card and addressed the room. ‘Lieutenant Richter here. We’ve been tracking vampires from yesterday’s university raid and have information suggesting one of them is here.’ Her tone softened a little. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please sit down. When we’ve finished our sweep of the building, you’ll be free to go.’

A fist of ice closed round Irene’s guts. Next to her, she felt Jerome go tense. Was it pure coincidence that they’d shown up here, or did they have some way of tracing her or intelligence about the gang? Even with her new disguise, if they had photos from the University Library incident and took a good look at her . . .

‘I expect better treatment than this,’ Lady Ciu muttered.

‘Let me handle it,’ Hao Chen said, clearly keen to mollify the older dragon. Ignoring his recent opponent, he walked across to the lieutenant, his aunt and sister in tow. Hao Chen murmured something to the woman, then flashed some sort of ID. That bought him a nod. Then the CENSOR people parted without another word, and the dragons left.

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ Irene murmured. She wasn’t the only person who’d been watching. Half the room had had their eyes on the interaction. A couple of men tried to repeat the effect, but flashing cash – or threats of I know your superior – didn’t work, and they were turned back into the crowd.

‘Save the chat for later,’ Jerome answered. ‘I can probably leg it, but I don’t know about you. Got any plans?’

‘Maybe I do. But you’re pretty certain of yourself,’ Irene couldn’t help commenting.

He shrugged. ‘I’m lucky, Carla. It goes with the territory.’

‘Well, you lost that draw with Lady Ciu . . .’ Irene assessed her options as she spoke. She couldn’t use the Language too publicly, but a few surreptitious words would be lost under the din of conversation. ‘Give me a second, then drift towards the bar.’

First things first. She slipped out her phone, checking the messages.

Job done. On move, being followed. Need to lose them. Still no word from F.

She tilted the phone so that Jerome could see, biting back a sigh of relief. Apparently everything had gone all right, even with Felix absent – what had happened to him?

‘Felix dropped out of sight. Hm.’

‘Any thoughts about him?’

‘Let’s get out of here first.’

He had a point. They moved casually towards the bar. As they walked under the fire alarm, it was simplicity itself for Irene to say, ‘Fire alarm, sound at full volume.’

It was sheer perfection. It blasted out loud enough to deafen the room, and it was also connected to the lighting system. The bright chandeliers abruptly dimmed, and strips of neon light appeared over the door. Time for the finishing touch. Irene sparked up her cigarette lighter, telling it, ‘Remain lit and fly into the nearest sprinkler system head.’

Irene had never previously appreciated quite how thorough water sprinklers were. The effect was like being drenched by a dozen cold showers on full. Water filled the air.

The CENSOR agents could either hold back the crowd – now a yelling, wet, panicked mob – by force, or give way and let everyone into the corridor. They gave way.

Outside, the corridor was a heaving mass of people, shouting to be heard over the alarm. Jerome locked a hand round Irene’s wrist, and together they followed the soaked crowd into the street. The couple of guards at the door failed to maintain a cordon – and within a few minutes Irene and Jerome were streets away, innocently waiting to be served at a late-night sausage stand.

‘So, about those dragons,’ Irene said quietly. ‘If this place isn’t claimed, as Mr Nemo said, then what are they doing here? And why has Felix vanished? There are too many unanswered questions.’

There were other couples chatting to each other in the queue, ranging from students in jeans and duffel coats to people in evening wear. Hot-dog stands made no class distinctions – and anyone could also be a CENSOR operative.

A police car drove past, sirens blaring loudly and lights flashing. But it wasn’t heading in the direction of the Casino Nonpareil. Irene could only hope that Kai and the others weren’t its target.

Jerome shrugged. ‘I guess Felix had his own business.’

‘Like what? That’s not very helpful.’

‘I can see you’re annoyed, but I don’t know why you’re annoyed at me.’

‘I’m annoyed because—’

‘Sweet or spicy?’ the stallholder asked, holding up mustard.

‘Sweet,’ Irene said, annoyed at the distraction.

‘Spicy,’ Jerome said with a grin. ‘Because?’ he prompted as they strolled away, local cuisine in hand.

‘I’m annoyed that you revealed yourself as Hao Chen’s partner back there,’ Irene admitted.

Genuine surprise showed on Jerome’s face. ‘You know, I thought that you’d be thanking me for stepping in.’

‘All right,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps that was ungrateful. Still . . . you put yourself in unnecessary danger.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed a game like that for the world,’ Jerome answered.

‘It was a huge risk!’

‘Honey, I like risks. I want risks. That’s how I roll.’ He considered her with a frown. ‘By the way, I’d have thought you’d have been prepared to lose me back there, as long as you got the job done.’

Irene took a bite, considering her answer. ‘There are two ways of looking at that. The first is that we haven’t got the job done yet. You’re still useful.’

‘And the second?’

‘I don’t play that way,’ Irene said slowly. ‘This isn’t a game show or a zero-sum situation where only one person wins. I don’t see why we shouldn’t all get what we want.’

Yet he was right: why should she care about these total strangers? Being a Librarian and a spy meant being cold-blooded. She didn’t have the luxury of choosing between her mission and the safety of casual acquaintances. It wasn’t something that her parents had taught her. Still, the morality ground into her at school wouldn’t be silenced. Plus she hated losing.

She felt a pang at the memory of her childhood refuge. Whatever she’d thought at the time, in retrospect it was a haven where ethics had been practical, trust had been possible and where she could still believe virtue would be rewarded. Even if it now seemed like fiction . . . And now Gamma-017 was in danger and she still didn’t have the book she needed to save it.

‘You’re asking me to accept a lot,’ Jerome was saying.

‘But we need trust, if we’re going to work together. Think of it as a gamble.’ Irene paused. ‘And what are all these police cars doing? That one’s the third to pass us!’

‘Okay. Before we go any further,’ Jerome said, ‘I need you to promise not to lose your temper . . .’

‘The. Imperial. Regalia.’ Irene spoke through gritted teeth as she inspected the items in front of her. ‘Sword. Crown. Orb. And sceptre. That agate bowl was supposed to be the Holy Grail at one point, wasn’t it? And that emerald salt cellar is bigger than my fist.’ At this precise moment, it would have given her great pleasure to throw it through the apartment window. ‘I’m . . . lost for words.’

‘I can probably think of a few,’ Felix said, reclining smugly on the lounger with a glass of wine. ‘Furious. Shocked. Jealous. I don’t think any Librarian could have pulled this off, could they?’

Irene forced herself to back away from the cliff edge of her anger. They still needed him. And she had promised Jerome – who clearly knew everything – that she wouldn’t lose her temper. Even with some of the Hofburg Museum’s most valuable items spread before her. ‘Oh, all right. I admit it. I’m impressed.’

‘As you should be.’

‘Don’t push your luck.’ Irene looked around the bland apartment Jerome had brought her to. ‘So what do you plan to do now?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ Felix took another cheerful sip of wine. It was the most relaxed – the most friendly – that Irene had seen him. The successful theft had filled a nagging hole in his self-esteem, and for now he was the affable gentleman thief through and through. ‘Sometimes one just has the urge to steal a thing because it’s there, if you know what I mean?’

Jerome clinked glasses with him. ‘That I do.’

Irene counted down from five to one silently, trying to control her exasperation. Felix was clearly unreliable. But . . . if the group agreed that he needed to be shut out of the operation, could they count on his non-interference? What if he decided to steal the painting himself, hiring a new gang, now he was on a high? On the other hand, if they kept him with them, how long before he started boasting and said too much about the other people involved, such as Irene and Kai? If they really were infringing the treaty, she didn’t like to think of the consequences.

‘Let me call the others,’ she said, needing a moment to think. ‘I want to be sure they’re all right.’

‘Be my guest,’ Felix said with a lazy wave. His gaze returned fondly to the emerald salt cellar. It was sitting casually in a pile of crumpled newspapers on the coffee table and somehow seemed larger than life, almost too big to be real.

Irene wandered over to the window. The phone rang, twice, and then Kai’s voice said, ‘Irene?’ In the background she could hear the screech of wheels and the sounds of furious driving.

‘All secure here,’ Irene said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. We’re somewhere—’ He broke off. ‘No! No, the car won’t fit through there!’

‘Easy peasy,’ came Tina’s distant voice. There was a grinding noise of metal against metal.

‘Give me the phone.’ That was Ernst’s voice. ‘All is well. We are escaping. Dragon boy is a back-seat driver. Is bad habit.’

‘I usually let him do the driving,’ Irene admitted. ‘Jerome and I are with Felix. He’s looted the Imperial Treasury . . . which is why all the cops are buzzing round the Hofburg Palace. Avoid that area.’

‘So that is where he is. Tell him we will be talking later, him and me.’

‘Have you had any word from Indigo?’

‘Only to confirm that the interrupts did their job.’

There was a painfully loud crash and a thud, then the squealing of wheels again. ‘Are you all right?!’ Irene demanded, wincing.

‘No,’ Kai snapped, back on the call. ‘I just nearly swallowed the damn phone, that’s all.’

‘Good. See you back at base,’ Irene finished. The phone went dead without another word.

Irene turned to face the two Fae. ‘They’re all right – I hope.’

She’d come to a couple of conclusions. Someone needed to pull this so-called team together – not just to give orders, but to convince them to cooperate. Who knew, maybe it could even be good practice in getting dragons, Fae and Librarians to work together? Not that she’d ever be able to tell anyone about it . . . We need trust, she’d told Jerome. Now she had to trust them all, as she couldn’t do this alone. They really needed Felix, too. The thief was good at what he did. But if he wasn’t with them, and could even act against them . . . she was going to face a very unpleasant choice.

‘When I took the job, I thought everyone on the team was as, shall we say, invested in the job as I am,’ she said. ‘I was wrong, wasn’t I?’

‘I wouldn’t say you were exactly wrong,’ Felix said. ‘I just like to have my cake and eat it.’

The pile of gold and jewels on the table drew Irene’s gaze. ‘That’s a pretty big cake,’ she admitted. ‘So are you sure you really need the Mr Nemo job now? The risks are stacking up. CENSOR is breathing down our necks. And there’s not just one, but three dragons in town.’

Felix frowned, emerging from his haze of pleasure a little. ‘Three, you say?’

‘We ran into the others while we were at the Casino Nonpareil. Of course, they probably won’t get in the way of our heist. But given the level of danger, I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out . . .’

She was hoping Felix and his archetype couldn’t resist a challenging theft. It wasn’t just about the money for him. The greater the threat, the more tempting it would be.

‘Are you trying reverse psychology on me, Irene Winters?’

‘I am,’ Irene admitted. ‘Good catch.’ She tried to channel her training. When an opponent spots your negotiating tactic, admit it, and openly admire them for their intelligence in noticing it. ‘But . . . don’t you want to be the thief who stole The Raft of the Medusa from under the nose of three dragons? The man with his name in Mr Nemo’s private address book, on speed-dial for the most important thefts of all?’

‘It’s a gamble,’ Felix said. But she could hear the waver in his voice, the temptation tugging at him.

‘We’re all gambling,’ Irene answered. ‘So – what is your plan for the painting? I’m sure you already have something in mind.’

As Felix leaned forward, eager to display his cleverness, she knew she had him.