Rook by Daniel O'Malley

I heard him putting the phone down and speaking to someone else. “Yes, Minister, it turns out that there was a mysterious force that caused that plane crash. Yes. Yes. What was it? We call it gravity.” He sighed as he picked up the phone connected to me. “You know, Rook Thomas, this is why we keep ourselves secret. People look for the most ridiculous excuses. No wonder the age of reason was so welcome. It finally allowed the supernatural to take a break.”
    “Mm-hm, that’s fascinating,” I said, scanning the details that had been e-mailed to me. “Look, an Argentine government official has spontaneously gone critical in Liverpool. We may have to take her out—read the e-mailI’m forwarding to you, figure out the implications if we kill her, and be ready.”
    “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, and hung up. I hit the button for line two.
    “Gestalt? Where are your bodies?”
    “One in is Wolverhampton, one in Nottingham, both are on their way to Liverpool. I’m also in the Rookery in my office.”
    “All right. We’ve cut the power in the city. You’ll be able to handle crowd control as well as tactics?”
    “Yeah.”
    “We need to end this ASAP,” I said, and hung up.
    “Lewis is on line one,” Ingrid called.
    “Lewis? Is the power off?” I asked him.
    “Yes, but—” He broke off.
    “But what?”
    “But there’s a TV crew out there, and we can’t find them.”
    “Oh. Shit.” I ended the connection and dialed the extension for Media Cover. “It’s Rook Thomas here. I hear there’s a TV crew wandering around in downtown Liverpool—why is that?”
    “They have a television station in downtown Liverpool” came the dry voice of Caspar Dragoslevic, the head of Media Cover.
    “We permitted that?”
    “Remarkably, I do not have the supernatural ability to influence the placement of media outlets’ facilities. We have someone in the station who will let us know what kind of footage they have once they have it, and we may be able to do something to it.”
    “Good luck.” I snorted. “If it’s the kind of footage I think it is, they’ll guard it with their lives. What do your Liars have?”
    “I wish you wouldn’t call them that.” Dragoslevic sighed. “They’re the Tactical Deception Communications Section.”
    “Caspar, we will need something to tell people, and an Argentine woman who coughs up ectoplasm that turns into animals that chase people—well, that falls into the category of things that we are very specifically supposed to prevent people from finding out about.”
    “You know, Rook Thomas, with language skills like that, it’s amazing you weren’t placed in my department.”
    “Give me something, please,” I said, and hung up. Almost immediately the phone rang again. “Yes?”
    “Lewis here—we’ve had three more deaths, and there are two more news crews out there.”
    “What’s the situation with the troops? Do I need to send the Barghests?”
    “I don’t think so; they’re closing in on the target. Hold on—she’s down,” said Lewis.
    “Dead?” I asked intently.
    “Yes, it’s confirmed.”
    “And the animal constructs?”
    “They’re evaporating,” he said, the relief in his voice mirroring my own emotions.
    “Okay, remove the woman and try to sweep up any incriminating stuff. We’re turning the lights on and giving the phones back in ten minutes.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    I gave the orders for the services to be returned to the city, looked at the clock, and saw with bemusement that only thirty-one minutes had passed. I smiled. We really are very good. But then Ingrid buzzed through and told me that we were getting frantic calls from people high up in the Home Office; the Department for Environment, Food, and Rural Affairs; the Liverpool City Council; the Liverpool Police Department; the power company; and the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
    “Okay, put them through one at a time.” I then had to endure a series of