The Golem's Eye Read Online Free PDF Page B

were no witnesses, and surveillance spheres had not been in the area. Nathaniel cursed under his breath. It was hopeless. He had no leads at all. He tossed the papers aside and picked up another report. Rude slogans at the expense of the Prime Minister had again been daubed on lonely walls throughout the city. He sighed and signed a paper ordering an immediate cleanup operation, knowing full well the graffiti would reappear as fast as the whitewash men could work.
    Lunchtime came at last, and Nathaniel attended a party in the garden of the Byzantine embassy, held to mark the forthcoming Founder's Day. He drifted among the guests, feeling listless and out of sorts. The problem of the Resistance was preying on his mind.
    As he ladled strong fruit punch from a silver tureen in a corner of the garden, he noticed a young woman standing close by. After eyeing her warily for a moment, Nathaniel made what he hoped was an elegant gesture. "I understand you had some success recently, Ms. Farrar. Please accept my congratulations."
    Jane Farrar murmured her thanks. "It was only a small nest of Czech spies. We believe they had come in by fishing boat from the Low Countries. They were clumsy amateurs, easily spotted. Some loyal commoners raised the alarm."
    Nathaniel smiled. "You are far too modest. I heard that the spies led the police on a merry dance around half of England, killing several magicians in the process."
    "There were a few small incidents."
    "It is a notable victory, even so." Nathaniel took a small sip of punch, pleased with the backhanded nature of his compliment. Jane Farrar's master was the police chief Mr. Henry Duvall, a great rival of Jessica Whitwell. At functions such as this, Ms. Farrar and Nathaniel often exchanged feline conversation, all purred compliments and carefully sheathed claws, testing each other's mettle.
    "But what of you, John Mandrake?" Jane Farrar said, sweetly. "Is it true that you've been assigned responsibility for uncovering this irritating Resistance? That is no small matter either!"
    "I am only amassing information; we have a network of informers to keep busy. It is nothing too exciting."
    Jane Farrar reached for the silver ladle and stirred the punch gently. "Perhaps not, but unheard of for someone as inexperienced as you. Well done. Would you care for another tot?"
    "Thank you, no." With annoyance, Nathaniel felt the color rush to his cheeks. It was true, of course: he was young, he was inexperienced; everyone was watching to see whether he failed. He fought back a strong desire to scowl. "I believe we will see the Resistance broken within six months," he said thickly.
    Jane Farrar poured punch into a glass and raised her eyebrows at him with an expression that might have been amusement. "You impress me," she said. "Three years they've been hunted, without anything like a breakthrough. And you will break them within six months! But you know, I believe you can do it, John. You are quite a little man already."
    Another flush! Nathaniel tried to master his emotions. Jane Farrar was three or four years older than he was, and just as tall, perhaps taller, with long, straight, light brown hair hanging to her shoulders. Her eyes were a disconcerting green, alive with wry intelligence. He could not help feeling gawky and inelegant beside her, despite the splendors of his ruffed red handkerchief. He found himself trying to justify his statement, where he should have kept silent.
    "We know the group consists mainly of youths," he said. "That fact has been repeatedly observed by victims, and the one or two individuals we have managed to kill have never been older than us." (He placed a light stress on this last word.) "So the solution is clear. We send agents out to join the organization. Once they have won the traitors' trust, and gained access to their leader... well, the matter will be over swiftly."
    Again the amused smile. "Are you sure it will be so simple?"
    Nathaniel shrugged. "I nearly gained