He fleetingly recalled the sensation of golem thoughts scratching his mind, the feeling of sending his word out like a living, burning, flying thing. It was like remembering scenes from a film whose title he’d forgotten. He sagged as he remembered more vivid scenes: faces crumbling in fear before him, strangers on a train, bullies in a park. The idea of connecting with that power again suddenly scared him.

The piercing blare of an alarm going off close by pulled him out of his thoughts. Two blue-clad French police ran by, heading in the direction his grandfather had gone. Curious, Alex started to get out, then realized they had parked against a lamppost. He couldn’t open the door on his side. With difficulty, he stretched over the bulky Gladstone bag to open the driver’s door, then shoved the bag into the street so he could clamber out behind it.

The Gladstone sprang open as it hit the pavement. A large iron crowbar slid out, followed by a hacksaw, an enormous collection of keys strung along a twisted hoop of wire, a half-eaten chocolate bar, and a scratched grappling hook trailing a coil of rope. Cursing quietly, Alex bent to begin packing it away. The alarm kept screaming. He paused, crowbar in hand, looking along the street.

“Hey.”

Turning, Alex found a young policeman standing over him, staring at the iron bar he held. A grating voice was issuing urgent reports over the man’s radio. One hand was moving toward the holster on his belt.

“Wait, I can explain,” Alex said, wondering what he would say next. In response, the policeman opened his mouth, closed his eyes, then sunk to his knees, revealing Alex’s grandfather standing close behind wearing a black mask, cane held ready to hit him again. There was no need. The man lay slumped at Alex’s feet. The din of the alarm had been joined by sirens, getting closer.

“Oh, that’s terrific,” Alex said. “That’s just great. Let’s start assaulting police officers while we’re at it. Why not.”

“Get in the car, Alex,” the old man said. Whipping off his mask, he started scooping up the remaining contents of his bag. “Honestly. Can’t leave you on your own for two minutes.”

As they sped away, Alex noticed a curious glittering on the old man’s coat sleeve. Raindrops caught in the wool, he thought, until he realized it was fragments of broken glass.

“I don’t suppose,” Alex said, “that you just broke in somewhere for some reason?”