Hermes Fleece stared out of his office window, into the Mayfair night. His hands were clasped behind his back, to keep them from trembling. “Baphomet is gone,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “How do you explain this?” He turned to look at the other man in the room.
Albert Shepherd raised his hands in a placatory gesture. “I can’t. The creature was still safely locked away when last I checked.”
“Was it? Because I’ve learned that the creature never made it to the bloody Hebrides,...