Mr West dabbed at his chin with a paper napkin.
"And did they?"
All heads turned to him.
Mr West knew it wasn't his place to ask the questions, that was Mr Magellan's job.
Magellan was, after all, leading the operation.
But if he was honest with himself, Mr West felt that Magellan wasn't suited to this task, had felt that for some time now.
Magellan's loyalty to the Dictatoriat was beyond question, it was just that West felt the man’s arrogance stopped him from getting a grasp of what they were up against.
"There was an unseen factor," said Mr South deciding to honour Mr West's question with an answer before turning back to look at Mr Magellan.
"A vampire.
We had no models for this eventuality."
"A vampire?" said another of the triplets, clearly showing worry.
"Did the wizard have the notebook?"
Mr South shook his head.
"When I managed to return later and examine the corpse, he did not have it on him."
"Ah, so either the wizard never had it or the vampire took it?" West commented.
Proof if he ever needed it that Magellan did not have the flexibility to lead their mission here.
Everything planned out, and yet when put into practise introduced chance and probability.
"You don't think they have discovered our plans?" one of the men asked.
"Unlikely, Mr East," Mr West, mouth full of pizza, laughed.
It was as if the Gods of efficiency were smiling down on him, giving him the very tools to support the plan of action he would propose.
"The vampire community has never been one of the more integrated or service-orientated groups in these realms, now have they?
Did we consider the eventuality that he took it because he thought it might be worth something?
They're little more than petty thieves these days.
If they indeed took it?
I don't suppose anyone thought to build a check into their operation plan, did they?
I mean, it's not like it isn't important whether the old wizard had the notebook on him or not?"
Mr Magellan's resentment bubbled over like an overheated saucepan.
“I know he had it with him.
The models said so.”
West scoffed.
“Yes, and the models have proved so accurate of late.”
Magellan’s reaction was expected, even anticipated.
"Why do you find this so funny, Mr West?" he roared.
"Is this operation just one big joke to you?
You turn up here late and then sit here dripping food down you like some kind of..."
"Human?" Mr West finished.
This was it
, he told himself.
A battle between confidence and doubt raged inside of him.
It was now or never.
He put his pizza bag in the bin, stood up, and brushed his hands off, before walking over to stand next to Mr Magellan.
"Gentleman," he started, addressing the triplets rather than Magellan, "you seem to forget that we are fighting a war here.
Maybe no weapons have been fired as yet, maybe the people we are fighting do not even know of our existence, but it is a war none the less.
And it is a war where the difference in culture is as large as the distance we have travelled.
Here are worlds ruled by chaos."
He expected Mr Magellan to stop him here but the interruption never came.
No mind, it wasn't vital to his plan, but he made a mental note to revise the data model he'd made of his superior.
Perhaps behind all Magellan’s bluster was someone more lacking in confidence than he had anticipated?
"Our failings aren't because we don't possess the technology or knowledge to beat our opponents," he continued, "but because we have failed to fully adapt to this environment.
This is why, gentlemen, we are behind schedule."
"We're making great headways with our data models," the third triplet protested.
"And how long before it is complete, Mr North?
A year?
Five years?
Millennia?
Can our people wait that long?"
"And you propose to have the answer, Mr West?" said Mr Magellan, his words laced with vitriol.
Mr West paid no notice to them; they, too, were expected.
"In the old days, before we had fully modelled and mapped our society, before we were able to predict the weather or the course of someone's life, our data modellers faced many of the same challenges we find ourselves with on these worlds.
So they introduced randomness into their data models, introduced probability."
The room gasped, as expected.
"That very word is a heresy, Mr West," snapped Mr Magellan.
"Yet we are so far from home trying to beat an enemy that doesn't even know we're here, and still they are managing to defeat us by their randomness."
"Random co-efficients were outlawed hundreds of years ago.
You propose we throw away our virtues and submit to this... probability?"
"Nobody is saying that our aim shouldn't be data models with no random co-efficients," Mr West said, making sure to look at each of the other four occupants in the room in turn, "but we cannot wait that long.
So instead we must improvise, just like our forefathers.
Accept there is no shame or inefficiency in being unable to fully model these worlds."
"You seem quick to criticise, Mr West," Mr North said.
"How about you update us with your project?"
"Yes," added Mr East.
"Have you managed to find out how the gateways between the two realms stay open all the time?"
"Magic," Mr West replied.
"Magic?" scoffed Mr South.
"There's no such thing."
"Really?" said Mr West.
"Go pick a fight with a wizard in New Salisbury and then tell me that."
Mr South backed down slightly
"The point is," West continued, his voice increasing in volume as he progressed, "that even the inhabitants of the realms don't know.
Well one did, except you managed to murder him and let a vampire run off with his notebook, if indeed the wizard even brought it with him."
"So what are you proposing, Mr West?"
Magellan asked, more an accusation than a question.
Mr West sighed.
"Let me go after the vampire.
If he has it, I'll get it back."
Magellan laughed.
“You know what your problem is, Mr West?
You like to think you’re better than everyone else.”
West refrained himself from telling Magellan that he thought that was referring to his own failings.
“What we have,” Magellan lectured as he waved his hand around him, “is a plan.
Now I’ll admit, it ain’t perfect but we have some of the very best data modellers working on it.
I’m guiding them myself.”
West knew that was a lie.
Magellan was an idiot and most likely only in the position he was because data models said that would be where he would cause the least problems.
“You need to accept your part in the plan,” Magellan continued, “or everything will fall apart.”
Like it hasn’t already?
thought West.
"Mr South has been selected for the mission to get the notebook."
West laughed.
"Look at you three," he said pointing to the triplets.
"Carbon copies of each other, no individuality, no expression of individualism."
"We deemed it inefficient," said Mr East looking slightly hurt.
"What will be inefficient is when you blow a mission because three identical people draw attention to themselves.
Think of it as camouflage."
"I hardly think you are one to lecture us, Mr West," Mr South chipped in.
"Your persona is... irregular."
"Indeed, and yet I am able to pass myself off as human.
And let me add, had I not...you would not have got your location of the wizard."
"And you believe this makes you better suited to the task than Mr South?" asked Mr Magellan.
His tone was slightly calmer now, less aggressive.
That meant he was plotting, but that was alright.
West wanted him to plot.
"I do,” West replied. “I can blend into this world far better than any of you.
Mr South can organise the search of the wizard's apartment, his lab, wherever he might have left it."
"That's not so easy.
The elves..."
"Think creatively," said Mr West, tapping the side of his head.
"Make use of our agents."
Mr South scowled but Mr West knew he was right.
They had enough indigenous operatives in Venefasia that they could assign one of them to it.
Even Magellan seemed to be considering his proposal, his hand stroking his beard.
"One other thing," West added.
"Give me a remit to do whatever it takes."
"A remit which includes breaking laws hundreds of years old?"
"Let me do this my way, Mr Magellan," West pleaded.
"If I fail, you can bring me before the Dictatoriat on charges of heresy and not lose any grace with the Planners.
Indeed, they'll probably amend your fate for being such a loyal subject and bringing me before them.
But, if I succeed then the Planners will not need to know of our methods.
They will only care about our results."
"You would condemn all our fates with your heresy," spat Mr South.
"Why, thank you for your vote of confidence, Mr South," he retorted.
"As I remember it, I believe it was you who bodged up retrieving the notebook.
Maybe we should do it your way and have your descendant's fates downgraded to compensate the Dictatoriat for your failings."
Mr South shrank back.
Definitely some heretics in his ancestors, thought Mr West.
The others looked nervously at each other.
Any possible rebellion had been quelled.
"All right, Mr West," Magellan spoke up.
"But if you fail, I will have no second thoughts about bringing you before the Dictatoriat."
Mr West smiled.
"I wouldn't expect any less," he said.
He wouldn't fail.
He knew this world better than anyone on the operation and now he had his colleagues on his side, he felt the war was already half won.
"What do you propose to do?" Mr East asked.
"I think," said Mr West, walking over to the door and opening it, "that the vampires are in for a very rough night."
CHAPTER FOUR - The Morality Of Hunger
Darwin and Cassidy sat in a bus shelter eating chips.
Well, at least Cassidy did; the only thing that could nourish Darwin now would be fresh blood.
His come down from the Blood Lust had left him with a headache and whilst he'd picked at some of her chips it hadn't made him feel any better.
It had finally stopped snowing, the pavement and road beyond a sea of even white.
It seemed to muffle everything, and for the first time since he'd come back to the city, it was silent.
No hum of traffic, no call of horns.
It was as if everyone had left the world, leaving just the pair of them.
"We should make snow angels," enthused Cassidy shoving food into her mouth.
"Or a snowman."
Darwin looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't you think we're a little old to be building snowmen?"
"Never too old," Cassidy replied between handfuls of chips.
"Life's for living."
He sighed.
He'd hardly call this living.
Reaching into her coat pocket he pulled out the notebook they'd taken and started flicking through the pages.
He'd expected to find a diary or a ledger but flicking through the notebook's pages, he began to notice something odd.
Page after page was filled with mathematical calculations and letters in a language Darwin hadn't seen in a long time.
"Whatisit?" Cassidy asked looking over.
"Elvish," Darwin replied.
Cassidy looked perplexed.
"Elvish?
Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm not very good at reading it, but this word here," he said pointing to a place on a page, "that's the Elvish for mana, I know that much."
"Mana as in magic?
When did you learn to read Elvish?"
"As I said, I'm not very good.
Just know the odd word or two."
"Even so, that's pretty impressive," she said with a mouthful of chips.
"Don't know many people who can read Elvish."
Cassidy looked at him, as if willing him to explain.
"Go on," she said.
"It's a long story," he said.
"Here we go again with the secrets," she sighed.
"They're not secrets.
I just like to keep certain aspects of my life ... private."
"Yeah, cos they're bound to be more shocking skeletons in your closet than being a vampire,” Cassidy said sarcastically.
"Or would that be crypt?"
"We don't all sleep in crypts.
That's a myth."
Well some of the traditionalists allegedly did, but that was beside the point
.