Turn Coat (The Dresden Files 11)

The Merlin considered me for another long moment, and then shook his head. "There is a condition."

"A condition," I said. "Before you will agree to let me help you get your ass out of the fire."

He gave me a bleak smile. "My ass is reasonably comfortable where it is. This is hardly my first crisis, Warden."

"And yet you haven't told me to buzz off."

He lifted a finger, a gesture reminiscent of a fencer's salute. "Touché. I acknowledge that it is, technically, possible for you to prove useful."

"Gosh, I'm glad I decided to be gracious and offer my aid. In fact, I'm feeling so gracious, I'm even willing to listen to your condition."

He shook his head slowly. "It simply isn't sufficient to prove that Morgan is innocent. The traitor within our ranks is real. He must be found. Someone must be held accountable for what happened to LaFortier-and not just for the sake of the Council's membership. Our enemies must know that there are consequences to such actions."

I nodded. "So not only prove Morgan innocent, but find the guy who did it, too. Maybe I can set the whole thing to music and do a little dance while I'm at it."

"I feel obligated to point out that you approached me, Dresden." He gave me his brittle smile again. "The situation must be dealt with cleanly and decisively if we are to avoid chaos." He spread his hands. "If you can't present that sort of resolution to the problem, then this conversation never happened." His eyes hardened. "And I will expect your discretion."

"You'd hang your own man out to dry. Even though you know he's innocent."

His eyes glittered with a sudden cold fire, and I had to work not to flinch. "I will do whatever is necessary. Bear that in mind as you 'help' me."

A door opened upstairs, and in a few seconds Peabody began a precarious descent of the stairs, balancing his ledgers and folders as he did.

"Samuel," the Merlin said, his eyes never leaving me. "Be so good as to provide Warden Dresden with a complete copy of the file on LaFortier's murder."

Peabody stopped before the Merlin, blinking. "Ah. Yes, of course, sir. Right away." He glanced at me. "If you would come this way, Warden?"

"Dresden," the Merlin said in a pleasant tone. "If this is some sort of ruse, you would be well-advised to be sure I never learn of it. My patience with you wears thin."

The Merlin was generally considered to be the most capable wizard on the planet. The simple words with their implied threat were almost chilling.

Almost.

"I'm sure you'll last long enough for me to help you out of this mess, Merlin." I smiled at him and held up my hand, palm up, fingers spread, as if holding an orange in them. "Balls," I said. "Vise. Come on, Peabody."

Peabody blinked at me as I swept past him on the way to the door, his mouth opening and closing silently several times. Then he made a few vague, sputtering sounds and hurried to catch up with me.

I glanced back at the Merlin as I reached the door.

I could clearly see his cold, flat blue eyes burning with fury while he sat in apparent relaxation and calm. The fingers of his right hand twitched in a violent little spasm that did not seem to touch the rest of his body. For an instant, I had to wonder just how desperate he had to be to accept my help. I had to wonder how smart it was to goad him like that.

And I had to wonder if that apparent calm and restrained exterior was simply a masterful control of his emotions-or if, under the pressure, it had become some kind of quiet, deadly madness.

Damn Morgan, for showing up at my door.

And damn me, for being fool enough to open it.

Chapter Seventeen

Peabody went into an immaculate office lined with shelves bearing books arranged with flawless precision, grouped by height and color. Many of the shelves were loaded with binders presumably full of files and documents, similarly organized, in a dazzling array of hues. I files and documents, similarly organized, in a dazzling array of hues. I guess it takes all kinds of colors to make a bureaucratic rainbow.

I started to follow him inside, but he turned on me with a ferocious glare. "My office is a bastion of order, Warden Dresden. You have no place in it."

I looked down at him for a second. "If I was a sensitive guy, that would hurt my feelings."

He gave me a severe look over his spectacles and said, as if he thought the words were deadly venom and might kill me, "You are an untidy person."

I put my hand over my heart, grinning at him. "Ow."

The tips of his ears turned red. He turned around stiffly and walked into the office. He opened a drawer and started jerking binders out of it with more force than was strictly necessary.

"I read your book, by the way," I said.

He looked up at me and then back down. He slapped a binder open.

"The one about the Erlking?" I said. "The collected poems and essays?"

He took a folder out of the binder, his back stiff.

"The Warden from Bremen said you got the German wrong on the title," I continued. "That must have been kind of embarrassing, huh? I mean, it's been published for like a hundred years or something. Must eat at you."

"German," said Peabody severely, "is also untidy." He walked over to me with the folder, a pad of paper, an inkwell, and a quill. "Sign here."

I reached out for the quill with my right hand, and seized the folder with my left. "Sorry. No autographs."

Peabody nearly dropped the inkwell, and scowled at me. "Now see here, Warden Dresden-"

"Now, now, Simon," I said, taking vengeance on behalf of the German-speaking peoples of the world. "We wouldn't want to screw up anyone's plausible deniability, would we?"

"My given name is Samuel," he said stiffly. "You, Warden Dresden, may address me as Wizard Peabody."

I opened the file and skimmed over it. It was modeled after modern police reports, including testimony, photographs, and on-site reports from investigating Wardens. The militant arm of the White Council, at least, seemed to be less behind the times than the rest of us dinosaurs. That was largely Anastasia's doing. "Is this the whole file, Sam?"

He gritted his teeth. "It is."

I slapped it shut. "Thanks."

"That file is official property of the Senior Council," Peabody protested, waving the paper and the ink. "I must insist that you sign for it at once."

"Stop!" I called. "Stop, thief!" I put a hand to my ear, listened solemnly for a few seconds and shook my head. "Never a Warden around when you need one, is there, Sam?"