Did Anybody Hear A Goodbye?
When I spoke to Enright yesterday he invited me to another gathering on Saturday night – there are more files to go through apparently. Both he and Reeves, and we’re presuming their bodyguards, will be in attendance. A quartet of Russian magicians are coming over, to join the information exchange. Samuel is content to wait until Saturday for the break in.
I’ve insisted on joining Samuel, playing the card that it’s my position with Enright that has provided any of this information. Norman is no good, either at the break in or as a look out. We need someone to be at The Red Deer to make sure Enright doesn’t leave, especially since he can get back to Fulwood in the blink of an eye. I suggested Angela, Samuel agreed, so we called her down.
“She’s gone.” Said Norman, out of his fur coat of a beard.
I hadn’t realised, having spent my time with Sebastian for the last few days, but I haven’t seen Angela since Monday morning. She’d stopped eating her evening meal with us because of Chris’ sarcastic commentary. Apparently they both went back to Devon on Tuesday.
“Did you know this?” I asked Samuel. He said he’d noticed it was quieter. I tried her mobile. The only call I got back was a shock one from Cobb, inviting himself over on Saturday night.
Sebastian has moved on, relieved to have missed the snow for his tour of the peak district. He said he’ll be back in touch, especially if he finds anything on Ilford Dyson. In the meantime he knows Challoner intended to visit York next, so that’s where he’s gone.
“I doubt it will rival Sheffield for oddness.” He said. “You know, I think I saw a bear’s footprints at one of the sites.”
He didn’t include our calm contemplation of crime, but maybe that’s not odd to him. In any case, you’d think oddness would be attractive to a man who made a living out of studying distortions to the world. At the very least I thought Enright and his growing network of once-magicians would make this the place to be. I believe what Enright is doing is important – not without ego admittedly, but still important, to bring the world back to what it should be. I’ve sold Samuel on the bluff that I believe he’s hiding something – but only because I want to see his face when he’s proven wrong.
Enright asked me what I thought Samuel’s interest in the study was. I think the time is coming when I can no longer wait to find out. He sits around the house, brooding and anticipating plots against himself. If I just ask him to leave he’ll puff up all full of zeal and duty, demanding to defend me in spite of myself. Only when the break in proves him to be delusional will he be low enough to force out.
I’ve insisted on joining Samuel, playing the card that it’s my position with Enright that has provided any of this information. Norman is no good, either at the break in or as a look out. We need someone to be at The Red Deer to make sure Enright doesn’t leave, especially since he can get back to Fulwood in the blink of an eye. I suggested Angela, Samuel agreed, so we called her down.
“She’s gone.” Said Norman, out of his fur coat of a beard.
I hadn’t realised, having spent my time with Sebastian for the last few days, but I haven’t seen Angela since Monday morning. She’d stopped eating her evening meal with us because of Chris’ sarcastic commentary. Apparently they both went back to Devon on Tuesday.
“Did you know this?” I asked Samuel. He said he’d noticed it was quieter. I tried her mobile. The only call I got back was a shock one from Cobb, inviting himself over on Saturday night.
Sebastian has moved on, relieved to have missed the snow for his tour of the peak district. He said he’ll be back in touch, especially if he finds anything on Ilford Dyson. In the meantime he knows Challoner intended to visit York next, so that’s where he’s gone.
“I doubt it will rival Sheffield for oddness.” He said. “You know, I think I saw a bear’s footprints at one of the sites.”
He didn’t include our calm contemplation of crime, but maybe that’s not odd to him. In any case, you’d think oddness would be attractive to a man who made a living out of studying distortions to the world. At the very least I thought Enright and his growing network of once-magicians would make this the place to be. I believe what Enright is doing is important – not without ego admittedly, but still important, to bring the world back to what it should be. I’ve sold Samuel on the bluff that I believe he’s hiding something – but only because I want to see his face when he’s proven wrong.
Enright asked me what I thought Samuel’s interest in the study was. I think the time is coming when I can no longer wait to find out. He sits around the house, brooding and anticipating plots against himself. If I just ask him to leave he’ll puff up all full of zeal and duty, demanding to defend me in spite of myself. Only when the break in proves him to be delusional will he be low enough to force out.
posted by The son of Edward Fold at 2:31 am
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