It was an extremely busy afternoon in Oxford Street as Freddie made his way, manoeuvring between the multitudes of people occupying the sidewalks. Not that that was a new thing; it was always busy here. Heading towards Tottenham Court Road, he turned left at the corner of the Pret shop towards Charlotte Place. Once he arrived at his intended destination, he climbed down the stairs towards the low level entrance of what looked like a nightclub. A tall big-boned bouncer, curiously well dressed, stood at the entrance, his face the official definition of someone not to be trifled with.
Freddie flashed him a silver pendant, which he pulled out from under his shirt, a symbol of three small circles joined together at the centre. The guy took a quick look at it and without further ado opened the door for him. Freddie walked inside and proceeded through the short corridor that led into the bar area. It was only 11 in the morning, but the lighting in the venue gave it an evening feel. There were over twenty booths and tables spread all across the spacious venue, all empty, making the place feel quite desolate. Still, the barman behind the relatively small counter looked busy, moving about as if it was business as usual for him.
Freddie headed his way, aiming for a high stool right in front of the guy. He was a middle aged man, with short grey hair and a small moustache, which Freddie had always found out of place.
‘Lincoln,’ he simply greeted the man like an old associate.
‘Fred,’ came the reply, provoking the usual response.
‘You know I hate it when people call me that.’
‘That, I do,’ the man replied, not even blinking. There was no malice behind his dull brown eyes, only slight amusement. ‘The usual?’
‘Yes, please.’
The barman grabbed a bottle of white wine from the under-counter fridge and proceeded to open it, filling up two crystal glasses in front of him.
‘This is an unscheduled visit,’ he said, sliding one of the glasses towards Freddie. ‘It’s been twenty years since you’ve broken your routine.’
‘It’s been twenty years since I’ve had reason to,’ Freddie replied, raising his glass. The barman did the same, their glasses clinked and they both had a sip. Freddie took a moment to appreciate the taste of the wine in his mouth and then commented. ‘Never fails.’
‘Serves to show you that you don’t need to spend hundreds of pounds to taste good wine. Didn’t even cost me a tenner.’
‘You’ve always been cheap, old friend,’ Freddie commented, ‘but you do have some skill when it comes to choosing good wine.’
‘Why, thank you, Alfred,’ the man replied, now emphasizing his full name. ‘So, what do you have for us?’
Freddie took another sip from his glass and then put it back down in front of him. He hadn’t had nearly enough wine, but felt a bit braver to speak of why he’d come, nonetheless.
‘Daniel’s daughter,’ he began, ‘Serena. She’s gone missing. I suspect she’s travelled somewhere else, though I don’t know where or even if it’s actually true.’
‘You know that’s impossible, Alfred. No dream-born soul cannot leave their world.’
‘Impossible is a word that’s never had place in our line of work, Lincoln. There is no other explanation for her disappearance. I fear the prophecy is finally coming to pass.’
Lincoln chuckled.
‘C’mon, Alfred. You might have the others dazzled with that old crap, but you know I don’t believe it.’
‘Be that as it may,’ Freddie continued, ‘we cannot risk anything. If Serena really is able to leave her world and go somewhere else, then we need to be prepared for the worse, no matter how improbable that may seem. She’s young and impressionable; if he were to target her, she wouldn’t stand a chance and we’d all be in deep shit.’
‘What are the chances she’d come here?’ asked Lincoln.
‘Probably non-existent. But I cannot say that with certainty. For all I know, she might already be here.’
‘But wouldn’t you know it if she was? I mean, isn’t that your job?’
‘It’s not an exact science, Lincoln; you know that. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time someone slipped past me in or out of a world.’
Lincoln seemed to be thinking for a minute.
‘Alright then, let’s say she’s here. How much time would you think we have?’
‘I don’t know; there are no precedents to this. There’s so many factors involved…’
‘Give me a worst case scenario,’ Lincoln interrupted him.
‘I don’t know,’ Freddie repeated. ‘Weeks perhaps. If he’s already targeted her and she’s here, he’ll need enough time to prepare her. We’re only as safe as she is strong.’
‘That’s not very comforting, Alfred. We cannot let the fate of our entire world rest on her strength now, can we?’
Freddie lowered his eyes and fixed them on his glass of wine.
‘No, I guess we can’t,’ he said softly, almost as if whispering it.
Lincoln took one more sip from his glass and then spoke again.
‘I will of course assemble the council for an official decision on this, but I think you already know what needs to be done.’
Freddie did not raise his eyes to meet Lincoln’s. He knew what needed to be done, but he hated it. Never before had he wished he was wrong about his hunches, until today.
‘Yes,’ he finally answered and got up, drinking the last sip of wine from his glass. The heat arising from consuming the alcohol too quickly was already warming up his insides, but he welcomed it. ‘Well, you know how to contact me should you need me.’
‘Go in peace, Alfred,’ Lincoln greeted him. ‘I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough that you’re worried for nothing.’
‘I hope you’re right, old friend,’ Freddie answered. ‘Be seeing you.’
He turned his back on the barman and walked out of the dark room and back into the busy streets of the autumnal London. A thick layer of dark grey clouds had occupied the sky above him, threatening to bring down more than just rain. It appeared summer was now well and truly over.