The guard saw him coming, and fumbled for his gun. Zidarov shot him once, twice, sending him slumping back to the ground. Then Zidarov was limping towards the groundcar. Just as he neared it, another body emerged, crawling out of the wreckage like an insect. It took him a moment to see who it was – the previously pristine appearance was much reduced by the rain, and by the blood running freely over that pale skin.

Vermida looked up at him, on his hands and knees. He was in a very bad way. Not as bad as those he had hooked up to the couches, of course.

‘I changed my mind,’ said Zidarov, and shot him in the head.

Vermida’s lifeless body smacked into the gravel, face up. The blood ran into the rain, turning brown-black as the water carried it away.

The door to the groundcar was still open. Zidarov shuffled up to it, keeping his weapon trained on the interior. Carefully, he stooped down, scoping it out.

In the cab, two figures lolled bloodily in front of a smashed windscreen – the driver and a uniformed guard, both dead from the way their heads hung. In the passenger compartment, only one of the four seats was occupied. Udmil Terashova sat sprawled across the rear set of leather seats, her dark face looking grey with shock, her breathing shallow.

Zidarov suddenly felt very unwell indeed. He reached up to feel the blood running down the side of his face. His flak jacket also felt wet and sticky underneath, and breathing was painful. Wincing, he clambered into the passenger compartment, holding the Tzarina ahead of him the whole time.

‘Hello again,’ he said.

Udmil seemed to take a moment to recognise him. When she did, her eyes rolled. ‘Oh, Holy Throne,’ she murmured.

Despite himself, Zidarov cracked a smile. ‘Nice to see you, too.’ He lowered himself into the seat that Vermida had recently occupied. ‘I should congratulate you. That move with Jazc – you caught all of us napping.’

‘This is over now, probator,’ Udmil said, shooting him a poison­ous look. ‘Even if you kill me, he’ll come after you.’

‘I’m not here to kill you. Vermida, yes – he was a shit, and off-worlders are fair game. You – no. Tell me, where’s your son?’

‘You didn’t really think he was still alive, did you?’

‘Not really. I had to check. A bit unnecessary, though, don’t you think? You could have palmed him off to some void-trader, got him off-world.’

Udmil winced, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She must have been hurt, too. ‘You know what he did. Death was too good a punishment.’

‘I agree. And, by the way, I know he wasn’t your son.’

‘Did Mordach tell you?’

‘Only after you shafted him.’

‘If I could find a way to safely kill him too, I would.’