"But you could have anything you wanted."

She turned in front of me and brought me to a halt, her hand resting on my chest. The numbers on the doors showed we were close, now.

She looked up into my face. "I have what I need, Niall, and I don't want for much more than that. The things I do want, though, can't be bought or stolen. They must be given freely."

For a moment there was something in her eyes that reminded me of the conversation we'd had over breakfast that morning and, for once, it was she who looked away.

"Blackbird?" I asked. "What are we going to do?"

She chose to interpret my question in the immediate, rather than the general sense.

"We're going to find the Remembrancer and see if we can help. What else can we do?"

She turned back to the doors and counted down the numbers towards room four fifty-two.

When I realised she wasn't going to wait for me, I followed.

Twenty-Three.

Blackbird led the way down the corridor towards the suite that held the Queen's Remembrancer. She stopped at a door half-glazed with frosted gla.s.s. "Here it is."

She turned the k.n.o.b and eased the door open, peeking around the jamb, and then opened it more fully to allow us both into the room.

There was a white-framed hospital bed, head against one wall. A heart monitor sat silent on the far side, a jagged green line tracing the pulse of the man on the bed. He looked sallow, eyes closed, the lines on his face etched into the skin. Beside the bed, a thin young woman with tied back auburn hair looked as if she'd been startled awake by our entrance. She pushed loose strands of hair back from her face in an unconscious gesture. Another woman, sitting with her back to us, much older than the first, turned to us, her worried expression turning to mistrust when she realised we were not medical staff.

She stood up. "Can I help you?" She glanced from Blackbird to me.

Her hair was grey, but her fair skin and the way she brushed her hair from her cheek spoke of the close relationship between her and the younger woman. They had the same thin-boned frame that left the tendons stark on the backs of their hands, the same carved cheekbones leaving no doubt that they were mother and daughter. She had the determined look of a woman who would do something, if only she knew what to do. "We're looking for Claire," said Blackbird.

"She's just stepped out for a moment. She went to meet someone."

"She was expecting us," Blackbird confirmed. "Do you mind if we wait for her?"

The hardening of her mouth and the slight stiffening of the shoulders said she did.

"There's a rest room across the hall," she said. "You can wait there."

"Has there been any change?" Blackbird asked.

"My husband is seriously ill." She emphasised the word "husband", confirming her place at his side and our place away from it.

Blackbird started to move towards the bed, but she stepped in front of her. "I think you had better wait outside," she said firmly.

Voices from the corridor distracted them both and there was movement outside. I stepped sideways, out of the way of the door, as vague outlines appeared on the other side of the gla.s.s.

Claire's voice was clear, speaking to a companion.

"...doesn't work like that. They'll come when they're ready and not before," a male voice replied in low tones as she pushed the door open, still looking back at the person in the corridor.

"They're not that sort of people-" She came to a halt at the sight of us standing in the room.

"What's the matter?" The male voice in the corridor was joined by a face over Claire's shoulder. The ruffled sandy hair over grey eyes regarded us with suspicion. "Who the h.e.l.l are you?"

Claire pushed into the room, followed by the man.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, looking at Blackbird and me, then glancing back towards the corridor. "Elizabeth, are you OK?" he asked the woman standing in front of the bed. She nodded.

"They said they were friends of yours," she said to Claire.

"How did you...?" Claire trailed off, glancing back at the man in the doorway. Then she stepped sideways, taking his sleeve and drawing him into the room so she could push the door closed behind him.

Blackbird and I moved away from the door to give them some room. It was getting crowded.

"Claire? Who are these people?" Elizabeth wanted an explanation.

"And how did they get in here?" the man asked.

Claire took a deep breath. "These are the people I told you about, the ones we were to meet downstairs. "

"There are two men at the end of the corridor that are supposed to be turning visitors away," he said. "What? They just walked past them? "

"It's not their fault," said Claire.

"Of course it's their fault," he bl.u.s.tered. "They'll get their ears bent for this, I can tell you."

"We came to see if we could help," Blackbird said quietly.

"The doctors are already doing everything possible," Elizabeth told her. "There's nothing anyone can do except wait."

The younger woman, who had been watching this exchange, took the limp hand of the man on the bed in hers, watching her mother.

"Perhaps I could take a look at him?" Blackbird suggested.

"As I said," Elizabeth spoke more firmly, "the doctors are doing everything possible."

"Perhaps if Veronica were to take a look?" Claire suggested. "She might see something the doctors have missed?"

"The tests were very thorough, Claire." Elizabeth glanced towards the bed. "It's down to him now. "

"Not necessarily," said Blackbird.

"I think Mrs Checkland would like you to leave now," the man said.

"Very well," said Blackbird. "Claire, we need the nails. It's what we came for. Can you get them for us? "

"Please help him," Claire said. "You can see how he is. I can't leave him like this."

"You must," Blackbird said. "You must, because if you don't, there will be more of this and worse besides. You know it and we know it. Soon enough, they'll all know it unless we get the nails and you find another Remembrancer, someone alive enough to carry out the ceremony." At her words, Elizabeth's expression hardened, her lips blanching to a fine line. Her hand lifted to cover her mouth.

"Oh that was uncalled for," said the man. "How insensitive can you get?"

"It's the truth," Blackbird stated. "Let me see, how does it go? His breathing is shallow, but there's nothing wrong with his lungs. His heartbeat is weak, and yet there is no trace of cardiac problems. He has no indication of disease; in fact his body temperature is low, not high as you would expect with an infection. He appears to be asleep, but he's not."

Elizabeth nodded. "They did a brain scan. They said it could be a shallow coma; he could wake up any time. "

"He won't wake up," Blackbird told her. "I'm sorry for your husband, Mrs. Checkland, but he won't wake up because he isn't asleep. He's lost."

"What do you mean, 'lost'?" said the man.

"Can you help him?" Claire asked, cutting across the question.

"There may be a price to pay," Blackbird told her.

"We have money," Elizabeth said. "We can afford the best." The sliver of hope was enough to push back the tears from her eyes.

"I wasn't talking about money. There are higher prices than money can afford."

"What are you suggesting?" Elizabeth said.

"Let me see if I can help him first. Then we can discuss what it may cost you."

"Does anyone else here see that she's talking nonsense?" protested the man. "She's just exploiting your worst fears and taking advantage of your vulnerability at a bad time. It's the oldest con-trick in the book." I edged closer to the door, intending to seal it if he tried to raise the alarm at our presence. Claire noticed my movement and held up her hand to me, her mute expression asking me to pause a moment.

"Sam, I asked you here to help. I know you think you're protecting us, but Veronica is possibly the only person who can help us. Don't ask me how I know this because I could never tell you, but I do know it. There have been plenty of times when you've been on a.s.signment that you couldn't talk about and you've told me I just had to trust you. Now I'm asking you to trust me. "

"But this is ridiculous," he protested.

"Is it? You have this place wrapped up tight yet they walked in without a soul seeing them. How do you explain that? "

"I'm about to ask that question myself."

"Please don't. I'll do my best to explain later, but you have to accept there are things I can't tell you. You're used to secrets in your job. It shouldn't be too hard to accept that I have them too."

Something in her words stung him. His face registered shock and surprise.

"If you'll allow them to help Jerry," she continued, "then I'll try and explain later. In the meantime I need you to accept this. In fact I need you to do your best to conceal the fact that these people were ever here at all. Sam, I need your help. You have to trust me on this. "