Order Only: Follow up on Derby
Higher ups in the Ministry are still investigating how the initial memo from the second Derby breakout got misplaced, with a grim ferocity that frankly astonishes me. (And it’s causing sleepless nights for Molly, given my guilty hand in the whole affair.) Rupadam and Warrington are very, very sorry they were so foolish as to succumb to the influenza on the crucial day that the initial memo went mysteriously missing. I do feel a touch of remorse on Rupadam’s part, who is a decent bloke who does his job well, but hopefully they can see that he is not at fault, as he was out sick the day the memo came in.
I still do not think that retaliatory hexes are likely to be aimed at me—I’ve been playing least in sight, deliberately remaining out in the field as much as possible. Still, it all makes me extremely wary of doing any intelligence gathering at Derby about the background of the escapees. Perhaps things will cool off in two or three weeks, and I can check the parchmentwork then.
I do have one bit of good news at least: I got it from Warrington this morning. Those putative ‘corpses’ Kingsley and Caradoc left in the woods have been found, so I hope that will take the pressure off. I must say, my blood did boil a bit, listening to Warrington crowing on about it. ‘Four of them,’ he said (so our numbers correspond). ‘One of ‘em, the stupid bint had even stripped her own clothes off. How the hell did they think they’d ever have a chance out there? Good for nothing mud, too brainless to live.’
‘Hypothermia,’ I told him shortly. ‘It often makes the victims confused, so they remove their own clothing. It could happen to anyone caught out this time of year without shelter.’
He grunted and wandered off to his office. Even you, you smug bastard, I thought.
So—it looks as though your scheme worked, Kingsley.
I still do not think that retaliatory hexes are likely to be aimed at me—I’ve been playing least in sight, deliberately remaining out in the field as much as possible. Still, it all makes me extremely wary of doing any intelligence gathering at Derby about the background of the escapees. Perhaps things will cool off in two or three weeks, and I can check the parchmentwork then.
I do have one bit of good news at least: I got it from Warrington this morning. Those putative ‘corpses’ Kingsley and Caradoc left in the woods have been found, so I hope that will take the pressure off. I must say, my blood did boil a bit, listening to Warrington crowing on about it. ‘Four of them,’ he said (so our numbers correspond). ‘One of ‘em, the stupid bint had even stripped her own clothes off. How the hell did they think they’d ever have a chance out there? Good for nothing mud, too brainless to live.’
‘Hypothermia,’ I told him shortly. ‘It often makes the victims confused, so they remove their own clothing. It could happen to anyone caught out this time of year without shelter.’
He grunted and wandered off to his office. Even you, you smug bastard, I thought.
So—it looks as though your scheme worked, Kingsley.