Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

We repeated the ritual with the scanners and then made our way back up to Claire's office. She was waiting for us.

"Perhaps," she said, "we could try again?"

"That depends on whether you can help us," Blackbird said, "so that we can help you."

"If there's something you know, something that could help us find Jerry, I would like to know it."

"Let's go back to the phone calls," said Blackbird. "They have a hollow quality, as if the speaker is in a large room, or on speaker-phone, don't they?"

Claire's expression didn't change.

"The speaker's voice is strange and slurred, drunk even, and there's a delay, like on international long distance."

She still didn't say anything.

"There's something about them that doesn't sound like a phone call. The etiquette is all wrong. How am I doing?"

"Go on," she allowed.

"These aren't the normal enquiries — 'Would His Lordship be available for such and such a date or this or that event?' — these are odd calls, as if the caller isn't used to telephones."

Claire cleared her throat. "The first time it happened, it completely caught me out. It was Monday, I think, and we were dreadfully busy. I picked up the phone and said hello. It was an internal number, you see?" She glanced at the phone on her desk.

"The caller asked, 'What does the Remembrancer remember?' There was no greeting, just the question. I think I said 'I beg your pardon?' and the caller said, 'What does he want?' They slurred their esses and it was difficult to understand them. I said 'What does who want?' wondering whether they were drunk. The caller said, 'The Remembrancer, what does he want?' I asked them who was calling and they put the phone down. The thing was, right through the call, there was an engaged tone in the background as if the lines were crossed. I put it down to a fault on the line."

"But it happened again," Blackbird prompted.

"This time it was another voice, more confident and not slurred, but still odd. It was another internal call so I just picked up the phone and said 'Claire speaking' and the caller laughed, like it was funny."

I looked at Blackbird, but she was focused on Claire.

"The voice said 'The ceremony is cancelled this year, Claire.' I knew it was the same kind of thing because the engaged tone was in the background again, so I said 'Who is this?' The laughter started again and then something was wrong with the power because the lights went dim as if the voltage had dropped. I slammed the phone down."

"And the lights came back on?" Blackbird suggested.

She nodded.

"That's just as well. What happened then?"

"I asked Marcie to trace the call. It was obviously somebody playing pranks, but I didn't think it was funny. All calls for the courts are logged and tracked, for departmental billing and for security."

"What did it show?"

"It came back with 'extension unregistered'. We had the phone people check into it, but they said it was some sort of external line fault, so we were no wiser."

"Have they called back again?"

"No, but the second call was only yesterday. How did you know what happened?"

"I saw it before," said Blackbird, "a long time ago." Her words made me think of a little girl, curled in a corner, watching a dark shape speak into a mirror.

"Would His Lordship have come back here last night? Could he have picked up a call?" I asked.

"He may have done. The calls go through to his office if I'm not here."

"Have you been in his office today?" asked Blackbird.

"Yes, several times."

"Can I take a look?"

"You can look, but he's not in there."

Blackbird went to the double doors and pushed one open, standing in the doorway to observe the room. Satisfied that it was indeed empty, she stepped through. I stood in the doorway behind her. She walked around the large desk with its dark, polished surface and green leather inlay, the walls stacked with row upon row of legal texts. She slowly circled the office, drawing her forefinger across the polished surfaces.

"Not here," she said.

"I told you he wasn't there," said Claire, from over my shoulder.

That wasn't what she meant. She meant he hadn't died there.

I stepped back into the ante-office and she came after me and pulled the door closed behind her.

"If you get another call like that, put the telephone down straight away. Don't speak to them, don't listen to them. Just put the phone down, OK?"

She nodded. "Do you have any idea what happened to him?"

"Perhaps. When did you speak to him last?"

"Yesterday. He had an evening engagement and I left him to it. He never went home. His wife is frantic with worry and calling here every ten minutes. I've already called all the hospitals and alerted the police, but there's no sign of him. I was sort of hoping your historical mystery might have something to do with it. He's a keen historian. It's possible he went off on some wild goose chase."

"Does he do that a lot?"

"No, nothing like this has happened before. That's what's so worrying. What if he's been kidnapped or something? We deal with all sorts here, organised criminals, gangs, murderers, everything. The police are coming in an hour or so to talk to me, but there have been no demands or ransom. In the absence of anything else, I think they're hoping he'll just turn up."

Blackbird glanced at me. It must have crossed her mind, as it had mine, that if one of the Seventh Court had been outside my door last night then they might have been in other places too.

"If you don't find him, the ceremony will still go ahead?" Blackbird asked her.

"It won't be the first time we've had to improvise to make sure it happens, but yes, it will go ahead."

"So the ceremony has changed?" I asked her.

"The ceremony has been conducted under the offices of the Queen's Remembrancer for almost eight hundred years and is virtually identical to how it was originally performed. Even the words are identical, if a little archaic. In every respect, the ceremony is legally identical to the ones carried out in the thirteenth century."

"But you said you'd had to improvise," I challenged. "You can't be using the same horseshoes that were used eight hundred years ago, surely?"

"Actually, the shoes are the originals and are the oldest horseshoes known to be in existence. There have been some minor changes, though, of course. Countless different people have been involved in performing the ceremony and some of the items have had to be renewed, but in every respect it is as identical as we can make it to the ceremonies performed in the reign of King John."

"Which of the items have had to be renewed?" asked Blackbird.

"Why are you so interested in this?"

"It's possible," Blackbird said, "that changes in the ceremony have something to do with your missing Remembrancer."

"Then you should inform the police. Anything that can help to find him…"

"The police aren't going to find him, Claire."

"Then you know what's happened to him? If you do…"

"No. But there are things here that the police can't deal with. We can try to help you but you have to help us too. There is a great deal at stake."

Claire looked from one of us to the other. "What do you want from me?" she asked.

"We need to know what has changed in the ceremony. I can't tell you when it changed because we don't know, but something changed at some point, maybe in the last hundred years or so and it may have a lot to do with why your boss didn't make it home last night."

She folded her arms, chewing her lip as she considered our request. "And this will help to find Jerry?"

"It may explain what has happened to him," Blackbird offered.

Claire weighed that. "Come through into the office. I'll bring you what I have."