So; a man who could See traps, a thug for hire, and a woman who could make things go away just by looking at them. Not a bad crew.

Strange Chloe fixed me with a thoughtful glower. “What are you doing here, Shaman?”

“Shaman knows secrets about the Tower of London, Chloe,” Big Aus said smoothly.

“Such as?” said the Dancing Fool. He did his best to sound tough, but if he was really tough he’d never have put up with his nickname.

“I know more than most people,” I said easily. “Including a whole bunch of stuff that no one but the Tower staff are supposed to know.”

“How?” said Coffin Jobe, trying hard to sound like he cared. He doesn’t really have any social skills anymore, but he does try.

“Because I’m Shaman Bond,” I said. “I know things. So, what is this caper all about, O my brothers? Are we after the Crown Jewels?”

“Hardly,” said Big Aus. “It would take more than our combined talents to get anywhere near them. Only one man ever got his hands on the Crown Jewels, and that was one Colonel Blood, back in 1671. The guards caught up with him before he even made it to the main gate. Word is he died slowly and very nastily, for his pains. No, we’re after something just as important but not nearly as well defended.”

“Should we be talking this openly, in public?” murmured Coffin Jobe, staring sadly around him through his oversized lenses.

“Relax,” said Big Aus. “No one who matters would be seen dead in a dump like this. And listen to the racket! With so many people coming and going, ordering meals and chatting together, and that bloody awful piped Riverdance music, we could discuss kidnapping the Queen and selling her organs on eBay, and no one would hear us. The safest place to conspire has always been in public places. It’s the secret meetings in out-of-the-way places that always attract the authorities’ attention.”

“What are we after?” I said.

Strange Chloe grinned suddenly. It didn’t suit her. “The ravens, Shaman. We’re going to murderise the Tower ravens.”

I frowned, looking back and forth to make sure they were serious. “Are we talking about the old legend that if the ravens ever leave the Tower of London, England will suffer a great disaster?”

“Got it in one!” Big Aus said cheerfully. “But it’s more than just a legend, sport. I’ve done the research. Buck House takes the threat so seriously that for many years now, all ravens in and around the Tower have to have their wing feathers clipped on a regular basis, just to make sure they can’t fly away.”

“How very practical, and indeed British,” murmured Coffin Jobe. “Does anyone else feel that draught?”

“We’re going to use our various abilities to get us close to the Tower, take care of the guards, and then kill all the ravens,” said Big Aus.

“Aye!” said the Dancing Fool. “A powerful blow against the treacherous English!”

“Pardon me if I’m being a bit slow here,” I said. “But where’s the profit in this? The hard cash, the old champagne coupons? Kidnapping the ravens for ransom, yes, I can see that; but just . . . killing them?”

“I’m providing the backing for this little venture,” Big Aus said sharply. “Myself and a small consortium of like-minded Australian patriots. We’re going to strike a blow against England in general and the monarchy in particular. Humiliate Parliament and the bloody Queen, all at the same time! That’s worth ten times what we’re fronting, in the name of the republican cause.”

Strange Chloe sniffed airily. “It’s something to do. Could be fun. Will I get to kill lots of people?”

“Almost certainly,” Big Aus assured her. He reached out to pat her hand, and then reconsidered and pulled his hand back again.

“Burgle the Bloody Tower and make the English establishment look like idiots,” said the Dancing Fool. “A plan with no drawbacks.”

“I like it when lots of people die suddenly,” Coffin Jobe said wistfully. “I don’t feel so alone then.”

The Dancing Fool glared at him. “Why don’t you go and haunt a house somewhere?”

“Because I frighten the ghosts,” said Coffin Jobe.

He might have been joking, or he might not. It’s hard to tell, with Coffin Jobe.

As it happened, I knew for a fact there was no truth to the legend about the ravens. If there was, the Droods would have their own guard on the ravens. My family has a long history of knowing what’s really dangerous and what isn’t. The whole raven thing is just a story made up to give the tourists a bit of a thrill. But this little caper still needed stopping. Big Aus was right about one thing; if he killed the ravens, those popular symbols of Queen and Country, right in the heart of London, it would make everyone look bad. Very definitely including the Droods for letting it happen on their watch. Might give other people the idea we didn’t have our eye on the ball, and we can’t have that.

Still, the situation was . . . complicated. Big Aus I didn’t know from Adam, except he was slightly better dressed. The other three, however, while not exactly friends, were still people Shaman Bond knew. We had history together, some good, some bad. I couldn’t warn them off without raising everyone’s suspicions; as far as they were concerned, this was easy money. So on top of putting a stop to the scheme and taking down Big Aus, I also had to find a way of doing it that wouldn’t involve seriously hurting my associates or revealing I was really a Drood.

Great. Wonderful. Terrific.

And . . . I wasn’t entirely convinced by Big Aus. The more time I spent with him, the more convinced I became that the man was playing a role. He might well be the bluff Australian republican he claimed to be, but I couldn’t help feeling there was more to the man than that. And much more to this caper than just killing ravens . . . So I’d let things run as long as possible, to see what would happen . . . and then rely on my skills and abilities to slam the brakes down hard the moment things looked like they were getting out of hand.

I was authorised to kill Big Aus, if necessary. And the others. I try very hard not to kill on any of my missions. I’m an agent, not an assassin. But sometimes . . . it’s the job.

Big Aus leaned forward across the table and looked at each of us steadily in turn. “Does anyone have any problems they’d like to discuss? If so, speak up now or forever hold your peace. Because once you’re in, you’re in all the way.”

“I find I don’t care much about anything but hard cash, since I started dying on a regular basis,” Coffin Jobe said sadly. “At least with enough money I can be miserable in comfort.”

“The hell with bloody England!” said the Dancing Fool. “Let it all fall down!”

“And I don’t give a toss,” said Strange Chloe. “Go for it.”

And then they all looked at me. I smiled easily. “You know I only ever ask one question: How much does the job pay?”

Big Aus told me, and I didn’t have to fake my interest. He was offering serious money, far more than the caper warranted. Which probably meant he didn’t expect us to be around afterwards to collect our pay. Which was . . . interesting. I gave him my best smile.

“I’m in. The game is on. Shall we order now?”

“You must be joking,” said Big Aus. “I wouldn’t even use the toilet in a place like this.”

He had a point.

The Big Plan, as outlined by Big Aus, turned out to be refreshingly simple and straightforward. My job was to provide information about the hidden and deadly protections set in place outside and inside the Tower, and then Coffin Jobe would use his more than mortal gaze to walk us past and through them. He said he could actually See the shut-down Words implicit in any magical protections, and I hoped he was right. The Dancing Fool would use his déjà fu to deal with any human guards we ran into. And Strange Chloe would look harshly upon the ravens. And then we would all leg it for the nearest horizon. Big Aus, it seemed, was just along for the ride.