Page 33 of Babel

‘Fair enough.’ Griffin leaned forward. At dinnertime the Twisted Root was just crowded enough that the hubbub cast a shroud of noise over any individual conversation, but still Griffin lowered his voice to such a quiet murmur that Robin had to strain to hear. ‘Here’s the long and short of it. I’m a criminal. My colleagues and I regularly steal silver, manuscripts, and engraving materials from Babel and funnel them across England to our associates throughout the world. What you did last night was treason, and if anyone found out, you’d be locked up in Newgate for twenty years at least, but only after they’d tortured you in an attempt to get to us.’ All this he uttered very quickly, with hardly any change in tone or volume. When finished, he leaned back, looking satisfied.

Robin did the only thing he could think to do, which was take another heady gulp of ale. When he set the glass down, temples throbbing, the only word he managed was ‘Why?’

‘Easy,’ said Griffin. ‘There’s people who need silver more than wealthy Londoners.’

‘But – I mean, who?’

Griffin didn’t respond at once. He looked Robin up and down for several seconds, examining his face as if searching for something – some further resemblance, some crucial, innate quality. Then he asked, ‘Why did your mother die?’

‘Cholera,’ Robin said after a pause. ‘There was an outbreak—’

‘I didn’t ask how,’ said Griffin. ‘I asked why.’

I don’t know why, Robin wanted to say, but he did. He’d always known, he’d just forced himself not to dwell on it. In all this time, he had never let himself ask this particular formulation of the question.

Oh, two weeks and some change, said Mrs Piper. They’d been in China for over two weeks.

His eyes stung. He blinked. ‘How do you know about my mother?’

Griffin leaned back, arms folded behind his head. ‘Why don’t you finish that drink?’

Outside, Griffin set off briskly down Harrow Lane, tossing rapid-fire questions from out of the side of his mouth. ‘So where are you from?’

‘Canton.’

‘I was born in Macau. I don’t remember if I ever went to Canton. So when did he bring you over?’

‘To London?’

‘No, you dolt, to Manila. Yes, London.’

His brother, Robin thought, could be quite an ass. ‘Six – no, seven years ago now.’

‘Incredible.’ Griffin turned left onto Banbury Road without warning; Robin hastened to follow. ‘No wonder he never went looking for me. Had something better to focus on, didn’t he?’

Robin lurched forward, tripping on the cobblestones. He righted himself and hurried after Griffin. He’d never had ale before, only weak wines at Mrs Piper’s table, and the hops left his tongue feeling numb. He had a strong urge to vomit. Why had he drunk so much? He felt dazed, twice as slow at putting together his thoughts – but of course that was the point. It was clear Griffin had wanted him off-kilter, unguarded. Robin suspected Griffin liked to keep people unbalanced.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘South. Then west. Doesn’t matter; it’s just that the best way to avoid being overheard is to always be on the move.’ Griffin pivoted down Canterbury Road. ‘If you’re standing still, then your tail can hide and catch the whole conversation, but it makes things harder for them when you’re weaving about.’

‘Your tail?’

‘One should always assume.’

‘Can we go to a bakery, then?’

‘A bakery?’

‘I told my friend I’d gone to see Mrs Piper.’ Robin’s head was still spinning, but the memory of his lie stuck out with clarity. ‘I can’t go home empty-handed.’

‘Fine.’ Griffin led them down Winchester Road. ‘Will Taylor’s do? There’s nothing else still open.’

Robin ducked inside the shop and hastily purchased a selection of the plainest pastries he could find – he didn’t want Ramy to grow suspicious the next time they passed Taylor’s glass display. He had a burlap sack in his room; he could discard the shop boxes when he got home and dump the cakes in there.

Griffin’s paranoia had infected him. He felt marked, coated in scarlet paint, certain that someone would call him a thief even as he paid. He couldn’t meet the baker’s eye as he received his change.

‘Anyhow,’ Griffin said when Robin emerged. ‘How would you like to steal for us?’