Prelude

John Ismay’s House, Kinspit
 
Laurence Hardacre stopped for a moment in the hall, checked that Mr Ismay was nowhere to be seen, and then pulled on his gardening gloves. He had about twenty minutes before his master came home from his meeting at the University and he had somehow found time to spend it in the garden. There was so much to do, but at least he could make a start; he could prune back some of the spring foliage and prepare for the summer blooms.
The door opened in front of him and a rather flustered John raced through it. He hurried through the hallway, murmuring ‘stay there for a second, Laurence – I need to show you something… ’ then he disappeared into his study.
Hardacre allowed himself a brief, deep sigh, and began to peel off his gloves. He took a few steps back so that he could see the garden through a side window. It looked rather overgrown but so inviting: he’d got so close.
He forced himself to focus on something else, and so his mind moved on to his travelling clothes – he sensed that he’d need them again very soon. He also remembered with a shock that he no longer had a hyper-dimensional bag and so everything would have to be packed in a conventional one.
John reappeared with a piece of paper.  He was quite breathless. He waved the paper in Hardacre’s face.
‘I think that I’ve tracked down Macrocephalos; but we have to hurry if we want to talk to him. He’s giving a talk in Ponwy tomorrow. So, you’ll have to get your skates on…’
Hardacre’s eyes widened no more than a fraction.
‘I will, will I, sir?’
John nodded.
‘I can’t go – he’ll know immediately who I am…’
‘Will that matter? Why shouldn’t you go to one of his lectures and talk to him?’
‘Ah well, it’s a bit more complicated than that…’
‘And why is that, sir?’
John was still excited, but he hesitated before answering.  
‘Because he’s talking at a secret CRS meeting, we believe’
Hardacre’s face betrayed no emotion.
‘I see, sir. So, you’d like me to spend an evening at a CRS meeting. I’m wondering – should I pack some sandwiches or do you think that a light supper will be provided?’
John wrinkled up his face. He should have realised that this would happen. Once again he had got caught up in the moment and had not thought things through fully.
 ‘I suppose I could find someone else…’ he said, his voice weakening
Hardacre blinked twice and swallowed. His expression changed not one mote but John had learned to recognise all of these tics as indicating extreme shock.  
‘Am I to assume that you have some doubts about my ability to complete this mission, councillor?’
John sighed and glared.
‘Don’t punish me, Laurence – you know how these things work…’
Hardacre turned briskly on his heels and walked towards the stairs. He didn’t look back.
‘I need to go and pack’ he said, and then he was gone.

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