?Damn.?Clemens drained his glass and set it down on the console, turning back to his guest. ?I’m sorry. I have to go. Official duties.?

Ripley tensed slightly, fingering the glass. ?I was just starting to enjoy the conversation. As opposed to other things.?

?How do you think I feel??he muttered as he popped a closet and began removing clothes.

?Maybe I should come along.?

He glanced back at her. ?Better that you don’t. It’s one thing if I’m seen as treating you as part of my regular rounds. If everyone starts noticing us together all the time with you looking decidedly healthy, it might inspire questions. And talk. Among these guys, the less talk the better.?

?I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.?

He stepped into work trousers. ?Those are the two things you have to do to survive on Fiorina. Also, I don’t think your presence would be appreciated by Superintendent Andrews. Wait here and take it easy.?He smiled reassuringly. ?I’ll be back.?

She said nothing further, looking distinctly unhappy.

There wasn’t much to examine. Hell, Clemens thought as he surveyed the carnage inside the air duct, there wasn’t much to bury. Cause of death was a foregone conclusion. There were as many stains on the motionless fan as on the walls.

It didn’t make a lot of sense. Men regularly stepped on

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or brushed against ragged metal edges and cut themselves, or fell off catwalks, or injured themselves trying to body surf in the choppy bay, but they knew intimately the potential dangers of the mothballed mine and studiously avoided them. The giant fan was a threat impossible to dismiss or overlook.

Which didn’t necessarily mean the unfortunate and now deceased Murphy was innocent of fooling around. He could have been running, or sliding on the slick ductwork, or just teasing the blades with his broom. He must have slipped, or had part of his clothing caught up in the works. They’d never know, of course. No reason to assign two men to duct cleaning duty. Murphy had been working alone.

Aaron was evidently of similar mind. The assistant was staring grimly at the fan. ?He was a nutter. I gave him the assignment. I should’ve known better, should’ve sent somebody else, or at least paired him up with someone a little more stable.?Behind them prisoner Jude continued to mop up.

Andrews was quietly furious. Not because Murphy was dead, but because of the circumstances. They would not reflect favorably on him. Besides which it would mean more paperwork.

?No apologies, Mr. Aaron. It wasn’t your fault. From the look of it, it wasn’t anybody’s fault except perhaps Mr. Murphy’s, and he paid for it.?He looked to his medic. ?Your observations, Mr. Clemens??