Jonathan squeezed onto the bench seat between Sigrun and Evy. Normally he'd make some crack about being a rose between two thorns, but right now he suspected it was more than his life was worth. The skin on the back of his neck was prickling, and he turned slightly to see that Evy was glaring at him. Honestly, why's it always my fault?

"Who are you?" Evy stared at him with some suspicion. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Jonathan couldn't suppress it this time, and gave in to the compulsion to roll his eyes. "Old mum, there's always something I'm not telling you. I think it's safe to just assume that as a default and move on. Maybe you should stop blindly trusting shifty buggers."

"If I didn't blindly trust shifty buggers-" the implied like you was obvious- "we would have never found the map to Hamunaptra in the first place." His sister retorted.

Jonathan's hand clenched, the one with the crescent scar.

"Which isn't arguably a bad thing." He fired back.

Doctor Magnusson muttered something about Odin saving her from idiots and Englishmen, and honestly, Jonathan found himself agreeing with the sentiment.

Talbot turned around in the passenger's seat to look at them.

"Oh, and there's one other small thing."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed.

"You've got to be joking." His sister exclaimed.

"Mrs O'Connell, do I look like I have a sense of humour?"

All right, he'd pay that one. Jonathan sighed as he reached out to take the proffered black bag and slipped it over his head.

They were allowed to remove the blindfolds just as they were driven through the barbed-wire gates of a bleak-looking compound of cement and steel, through several checkpoints guarded by mean-looking men with rather large guns, and Jonathan had more or less convinced himself that it would have been better for the lot of them if he'd bucked up and just gone to Australia already.

The car came to a stop in front of an unassuming aircraft hanger, and Jonathan followed Sigrun out the door.

They had driven long enough that Jonathan fully expected that they had left Czechoslovakia and were back in bloody Poland again. Brilliant. The wind whistled across the square, lifting the hair off his brow. During the last war he'd seen compounds like this set up all through Europe and beyond, temporary airfields and automotive dumps that had gradually evolved into transient detention camps. He briefly wondered whether they were about to become the next guests.

Great minds think alike, or at least siblings, because Evy immediately said-

"People will look for us if we disappear."

"Don't be absurd, Mrs O'Connell." Talbot said. He knocked on the massive hanger door, paused a moment, and then knocked again in sequence. There was scratching inside, and some clanging, before the hanger door was rolled open from the inside.

Jonathan squinted into the darkness. "Does it get grand soon? Only because I find my attention span isn't as long as it used to be. Something to do with the mustard gas, I expect."

"That was thirty years ago." Evy exclaimed.

Sigrun raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.

"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

Evy and Sigrun gave him unimpressed looks which he met unapologetically. He was who he was, and it was too bloody late in the game to change now.

"I'm afraid Mrs O'Connell somewhat pipped me at the post when it came to the introduction. Monstrum vel prodigium. A warning of monsters, in the very literal sense, Doctors."

Jonathan looked at his sister. "Are you feeling rather left out right about now?"

Talbot led them further into the hanger.

"Oh my goodness." Evy said softly. "My word."

And in the wide-open space where undoubtedly a fleet of German aircraft once waited before the signal to bomb the arse out of Poland, was a bank of electrical terminals and radar, the sort of technology that Jonathan had been afforded glimpses of when he worked at Bletchley Park. White-coated technicians looked up at them and then back to their jobs, dismissing them as not important enough to stall their work for.

Jonathan stepped forward into the laboratory.

"What the hell is this?"

"Welcome to Prodigium." Talbot said. "Or part of it. Research and Development, you may say. And I suppose in the long run we should be thanking you and your sister. Oh, and Mr O'Connell, of course."

"What are you talking about?"

The shifty European smiled.

"Because you are the reason we're here, Doctor Carnahan, because of you and 1926 and Hamunaptra, unleashing the undead to scrounge on the earth, and showing us a great weakness that we were unaware that we possessed. We are prepared for wars of men and armies and guns and death. What we were not ready for were wars of plagues and fires from heaven and might and magic."

Talbot folded his hands neatly behind his back. "And indeed one might say that you are the Prodigium."

"Portent." Evy said. "We were the portent. The omen of evil to come. Jonathan, are we an omen of evil?"

Normally he'd make a crack about how he'd always been a potent of doom, but he didn't like how Evy's brow was crinkling in that uncertain way that said she was decidedly over-thinking the current situation. "Don't be bloody ridiculous." He snapped. "Anything can be an omen if it happens at the right time." Or the wrong one. "So you do what, exactly?" Jonathan asked Talbot sharply. "Hunt monsters? Like some sort of supernatural hit squad?"

"If we are able access to the records that enable it, yes. We recognize, examine, contain, and destroy evil."

"If that's true, then where have you been since then?" Sigrun demanded, taking a threatening step forward. In her throbbing voice for the first time Jonathan could actually hear the bereaved widow beneath. "If you have the capability to 'destroy evil', then where have you been?"

Her voice cracked, and before Jonathan was fully conscious of what he was doing, he reached out, his fingers snagging hers. Sigrun frowned down at his hand, but she didn't pull out of his grip. He shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Easy on, old girl. Keep the heid."

Her brow furrowed as she bumbled through the Scottish phrase. Jonathan squeezed her hand.

"Ours is not to interfere. The affairs of men are beneath us. How petty dictators decide to kill men is no concern of ours."

"No concern-?" The sheer arrogance was staggering. That time, Sigrun had to hold Jonathan back. "How can you say that? Are you entirely mad?"

Talbot merely raised his eyebrows. Jonathan dearly wanted to smack him just to try and get some sort of actual human reaction out of the bloke. "What we have gathered, what we have prevented from falling into the hands of pretend conquerors would have devastated the world hundreds of times over. You should be grateful."

More and more he was beginning to understand why the mole in the Socialist's Workers Party had blown himself away instead of delivering the manuscripts to this dodgy Prodigium outfit.

"Oh, go boil your head." Evy snapped.

"We are to remain impartial, no matter the circumstances. Can you envision a false Alexander the Great or Attila the Hun with the powers of the old gods at his fingertips? The destruction would be …unfathomable."

And, bugger it, Jonathan could see his point. He didn't like it, but he could see his point. But still, all it took was one man. One man with his personal prejudices and his own mind, and the whole house of cards would collapse.

The flaw was glaring.

The mood had escalated in minutes. Jonathan stiffened as he heard the sound of a drawn gun brushing against some fellow's trousers. "I'm beginning to think we've outstayed our welcome. Is anyone else starting to think we've outstayed our welcome?"

"Yes, it's getting late. My husband will be expecting me." Evy said, with heavy emphasis. "Perhaps you could give us back those delightfully fragrant sacks and get your driver to drop us off somewhere along the way? We can find our own way back."

Sigrun didn't say anything, gripping her canvas bag.

"Unfortunately protocol dictates that it is not that simple, Mrs O'Connell." Honestly, was the man even real? Or some sort of automaton from a Jules Verne novel? Jonathan guessed that protocol normally dictated that they'd end up being found in a week floating face-down in the river. "But… I suppose alternate arrangements can be made."

Ah, he could guess where this was going, and could sense the hard word coming. He had known Tommies that had run afoul of the intelligence agencies and given the same 'offer' to work for them so their indiscretions wouldn't be reported to their commanders. "What alternate arrangements? Just so you know, I don't work Sundays and make a lousy cuppa."

And that cracked Talbot's impassive visage, as he grinned, all sharp teeth, giving Jonathan the disturbing feeling that he'd just been smiled at by Death himself. "Doctor Carnahan, even though you may possess many of the qualities we do look for in prospective agents, believe me when I say that none of us would even begin to consider offering you a position."

In all honesty, Jonathan wouldn't have employed himself. And the reason had been written on forty-odd years' worth of letters and reports. Reckless. Undisciplined. Immature. Risk-taker. Rabble-rouser. Still-

"No need to be so snotty about it." Jonathan sniffed. "All right, if this isn't some sort of recruitment drive, what exactly are we doing here? Was this all just to show off your… massive hangar?"

Evy gave a very unladylike snort.

"You amuse me." It wasn't exactly the height of praise, as he struck Jonathan as the kind of fellow who'd find a turtle stranded on his back and slowly dying of exposure amusing.

"Oh, good-o."

"But I may be persuaded to return things to the way they were if Doctor Magnusson deigned to hand over the item in her little bag."

Evy and Jonathan looked at her. Sigrun raised her chin proudly. "And if I do?"

"We are more capable than you to take guardianship." Talbot said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me if I have trouble believing that."

All right, this was really starting to drag now. "What are you two idiots blathering about?"

Talbot held out a hand. "Give me the Book."

Jonathan's eyes widened. "You have the Gold Book?"

"Wait. The Gold Book of Amun Ra?" Evy demanded. "What about the Gold Book?"

But Talbot didn't take his eyes off Sigrun. "I would rather prefer not to have to take it off you by force, but I will if required."

And then in a week they'd be found floating face-down in the river. Jonathan swallowed.

Sigrun looked at him and then at Evy, before looking down at the canvas bag. Jonathan could read nothing in her expression, but her eyes were calculating. "You will make yourself a target."

"We may seem small, but we are more than capable to meet what comes, I assure you."

She closed her eyes and sighed, slipping the strap over her head.

"Here."

Talbot's sanguine face lit up when the book slid into his hands, some of the lustre taken from the glittering gold cover by the rusty reddish smears and handprints that Jonathan realised must have been his own blood. The agent chap ran his hand down the hieroglyphics in a sensuous way that made Jon think that maybe he should look away. Then he frowned.

"It is locked."

"Yes."

"Where is the key?"

"We looked. I couldn't find it." Sigrun said. Her voice projected sincerity, and it was echoed in her expression. Jonathan thought it may have been a touch sardonic, but that was no concern of his. The other fellow's gaze was sharp, searching for any tell that it was all a load of malarkey. Jonathan frowned. On second thought he probably shouldn't take her to poker night. She'd clean up the whole pot.

"You lost it?"

"My friends needed the hospital." Magnusson said shortly. "That was my immediate concern."

"Check the markets." Jonathan said. "Some enterprising chap probably got a few bob for it. And good luck to him, I say."

Talbot handed the book off to one of his offsiders, before looking hard at Jonathan. Jonathan met his gaze unblinkingly, guilelessly, innocently, the same look he'd used on countless teachers, constables and officers. Nothing to see here, move along. He had learned a long time ago to make anyone see anything he wanted in his face, and Talbot knew that.

And so the bloke turned to Evy, sizing her up with colourless eyes, and she met his gaze with a look of confusion. Because while Jonathan and Sigrun were adept liars, Evy's true intentions showed on her face, a barometer for the truth. If Evy was lying, it would shine through.

Talbot sniffed, dissatisfied and yet satisfied that they were telling the truth. He gestured to someone behind him, and then suddenly the black bag was being snapped back over Jonathan's head and he was being hustled the hell out of there.

"Thank you for your cooperation." The smug bastard called out behind them.

The car had dumped them along a deserted little road, and not far in the distance Jonathan could see the Poland-Czechoslovak border. It would have been nice if Talbot had dropped them back just a little bit closer. The road did admittedly lead them back into Prague, though it was dark by the time they managed to walk all the way back. Jonathan and Sigrun were fine in their flat shoes, but Evy complained all the way in her ridiculous high heels. Finally he'd offered to break the heels off on the next big rock they passed, which turned out to be the wrong thing to ask as for the next half hour he'd had to endure a lecture on exactly how expensive female couture footwear was, leaving Jonathan wishing that Talbot had just shot him.

"Wow, just wow. I don't believe it."

"Rick, please."

"Seriously, Evy, only you and him could somehow get abducted in the middle of the day by a secret organisation that hunts monsters because they really want a book."

Jonathan looked up from his martini. "I was completely innocent."

O'Connell's look said yeah, sure.

"Besides, I suspect giving them the book was the only way to get out of there with a heartbeat."

"You still gave a bunch of shifty bastards that we don't know from Adam a book that could kill hundreds of people in moments!"

"You don't think I feel bad enough already? Let's rub some more salt into the wound." Jonathan snapped back. "I screwed up, I get it!"

At Jonathan actually biting back, Rick seemed to rethink his next words; Jonathan could see it ticking over on his face. A subtle man he was not. "Look," he said gruffly. "I'm sure you did your best, and-"

"Save the speech, you're rubbish at sentimentality." Jonathan said. "Just get me another, the, the thing with the olive."

Evy peered at him curiously. "How many of those have you had?"

"Not enough." He said grimly.

Doctor Magnusson drained her glass of wine before deciding that it was more expedient if she just drank straight from the bottle. It earned her more than a few scandalised looks from other patrons in the pub who liked to pretend that women didn't enjoy the grog as much as the blokes, and admiration from Jonathan that she could have cared less about who watched.

"They don't have the book."

That caught Jonathan mid-swig, and he ended up spilling his drink down his front. Ha, look at the refined gentleman.

"What?" The other three of them said at once. Sigrun shushed them before elaborating.

"Being suspicious has kept me alive. I suspected that it was only going to be a matter of time before this Prodigium came for the Book, so I made my own preparations." She said. "Andy knows a fellow not far from here, a blacksmith. He expedited a job for me."

Jonathan immediately brightened, suddenly seeing where this was headed. "Why you naughty old thing!"

"What?" Evy frowned.

"He bound a series of metal plates, and engraved copies of the hieroglyphics on the frontispiece and backplate before covering it in a thin layer of Pyrite. Smear it with a touch of tomato sauce and there you go."

"Fool's gold. Tomato sauce." Jonathan grinned. "Magnificent."

"But what happens if they force open the Book and it's blank?" Evy asked.

"They won't force it open." Sigrun said. "It's welded shut."

Rick laughed. "I like you." He shot Jonathan a stern look. "Don't lose this one."

Jonathan was in too good a mood to really react to the crass remark. He was still smiling, but then something else occurred to him. "The other books. The Library. Are they really-?"

"Sitting in storage in a safe place? Yes, they are."

"Why Doctor, how delightfully underhanded of you." Jonathan delicately tapped his glass against Sigrun's bottle in a toast. "Colour me thoroughly impressed." She smiled at him, he fancied, somewhat shyly.

"Thank you Doctor." The smile widened, a playful quirk to her brow. "You were my inspiration."

Jonathan grinned.

Evy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please."