‘But getting it here, storing it, deploying it – that’s all difficult. We have reason to believe the Vidora cells have been moving in to control the trade. That would be a source of the violence we’ve seen recently.’

‘It’s possible. We do have the cartels here. We know that. You’d be a fool not to acknowledge it. But we do what we can to keep a lid on it.’

‘So, if there’s illicit cargo moving through your facility, then it’s the Vidora moving it.’

‘I very much hope there’s no illicit cargo in my facility.’

‘So do I. But they’re not here for fun, are they?’

Genova looked at him squarely. ‘None of us are here for fun, probator.’

‘No, I guess not.’

Then the alarm went off. The sound was piercing, incessant, a high-pitched scream that tore at the eardrums.

Genova almost jumped out of her skin, stared up at the vox-emitters, then stared back at him in shock.

‘My apologies!’ she cried over the noise, making to get up. ‘That’s an evacuation alarm – something must have gone wrong. I’ll have it shut down.’

Zidarov reached out and pushed her – gently, firmly – back into her chair. ‘The apologies are mine, supervisor,’ he said, not raising his voice much, but enunciating clearly so she could see what he was saying. ‘There’s a smoke canister in one of your hygiene-chambers. We’ve got a few moments to talk without your vox-thieves picking anything up. Still, don’t shout. I can lip-read perfectly well.’

She looked bewildered for a second, and then it sank in. She sat back down again.

‘The Vidora have been driven out of here,’ he told her. ‘Hells, we stepped in and finished them off ourselves. What I also know is that someone’s moved up to take their place. You can’t tell me who – I understand that. They’re listening, they’re watching. But you’ll know something. A name. A rumour. A location. Something.’

For the first time, she looked scared. The alarm kept on blaring, a sound that tore at the nerves. It wouldn’t take long for the canister to blow itself out, leaving nothing but a tiny pile of ash to mark its presence.

‘But I’ll need it now,’ he said. ‘Just a single word.’

Still, she held back. The cartels were vicious, so he couldn’t blame her. She’d be taking a risk, of course, but then not talking carried its own dangers too. She’d know just as well as he did that the Bastion could just call her in, though that would carry downsides for everyone.

Eventually, she cracked. ‘Warehouse Ninety-Four, Section E.’

As soon as the words left her mouth, the alarms clanged out. For a few moments after that, the ringing pain continued in his ears.

‘Holy Throne!’ he exclaimed. ‘What was that?’