Dead Men's Boots by Mike Carey Read Free Book Online Page B

Smart, who, as the medical member of the tribunal, would have been making the initial recommendation
     as to its decision. That is where I come in, since the authority—which convened the panel—feels compelled to rebut these charges.”
    “Charges of collusion?”
    “Just so, Your Honor.”
    The magistrate looked back at Pen with a frown. “Miss Bruckner,” he said with very careful emphasis, “may I ask on what basis
     you are questioning the credentials and integrity of”—he scanned the paper that was still in his hand—“of a judge, a doctor,
     and a trained psychologist?”
    It was time for me to take some of the pressure off Pen before she could get any closer to blowing. I stood up and gave the
     bench a friendly wave. “Can I answer that one, Your Honor?” I asked.
    He gave me a slightly nonplussed look. Jenna-Jane looked around, too, and I took an unworthy pleasure in the way her thin
     lips thinned a little more at the sight of me. “And you are—?” the magistrate asked.
    “Felix Castor. Like Miss Bruckner said, I’m the other side of the coin when it comes to paying for Rafi’s fees at the Stanger
     and signing off on his monthly reviews.”
    “I see. And what is it that you do, Mr. Castor?”
    Anything honest, I thought. Which rules out most of what you do. “I’m an exorcist, Your Honor.”
    “An…”
    “Exorcist. Ghostbreaker. Provider of”—I ran my tongue around the white-bread phrase with a slight reluctance—“spiritual services.”
    The magistrate gave me an owl-eyed stare, the ripples seeming to spread away almost as far as his neckline. “I see. And you
     agree with Miss Bruckner’s assertion that the tribunal’s members are not fully impartial?”
    I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I do. Dr. Smart worked at the MOU under Jenna-Jane—Professor Mulbridge—for five years. He still
     does all his consultancy work at Praed Street. And that guy Prentice who’s on the panel as the lay member—well, he’s ‘lay’
     in the sense of laying low. He’s in my profession, and Professor Mulbridge is more or less his regular employer. She can’t
     have exorcists on staff, so she hires them as security and puts their paychecks through a different budget. Prentice is as
     much of a fixture at Saint Mary’s as the scum behind the toilet.” Prentice, who’d been giving me a hostile glare ever since
     I mentioned his name, surged to his feet and opened his mouth to speak. “If you’ll pardon the expression,” I added punctiliously.
     “I wasn’t comparing him to toilet scum in any personal or moral sense.”
    “Your Honor—” Prentice spluttered.
    Runcie cut over him, giving me a severe frown. “Mr. Castor, if I hear any repetition of that pugnacious tone, I’ll take it
     as a contempt of court. Are you seeing proof of association as proof of collusion?”
    “No,” I admitted. “Not automatically. But Professor Mulbridge is desperate to get her hands on Rafi because”—better pick my
     words with care here—“his condition is so rare and it chimes so well with her own interests. And you’d have to admit, Your
     Honor, it smells a little off if the institution that’s trying to swipe Rafael Ditko, to take possession of him against his
     own wishes and the wishes of those close to him, is able to pad out the tribunal panel with its own staff. It looks like ballot-stuffing.”
    Jenna-Jane put her hand up, and the magistrate turned his eyes on her. “Your Honor,” she said, sounding a little reproachful,
     “could I make an observation? Not to rebut Miss Bruckner’s and Mr. Castor’s allegations but to indicate the problem that the
     tribunal was faced with?”
    Mr. Runcie indicated with a gesture that she could. Jenna-Jane nodded her thanks. “The facility I run at Saint Mary’s,” she
     said, sounding like a grandmother reminiscing about the queen’s coronation, “is for the study, treatment, and understanding
     of a very specific range of conditions.