‘Not a very good one. See, no one cares. No one is the slightest bit concerned. And, as I said to your wife when we met, your outfit could buy more muscle in a few hours than my department could give you over a month. I checked it out. You haven’t. You’re relying on me, a lone probator in an overstretched department, when your operation doesn’t even take its piped water from the city supply. That, and the fact that your son’s tracks have disappeared so completely, with so little fuss or explanation, makes me wonder if you really want him to be found.’

‘I see.’

Mordach’s voice was low, soft, with a gravelly undertow. He held himself precisely. In some ways, he resembled Udmil, though he gave off a more palpable air of physical danger. For some reason, those damned rings on his fingers made him ­scarier, as if they held some dark powers of their own, welded into the metal.

Zidarov finished his drink, and put it down on the table in front of him. He didn’t know if anything he’d just said was really true, but something had felt wrong about this from the start, and it was better to flush this kind of thing out as soon as possible. If Mordach flew into a rage, he might learn something. If he started to protest his innocence, he might learn something. If he drew a weapon, then he’d have a problem.

Eventually, Mordach rose, and walked over to a long sideboard set alongside the conference table. As he neared it, he activated a repulsor field key, and the entire unit glittered as the field was withdrawn. He tapped the surface, and a panel withdrew smoothly, revealing an elegant strongbox. Mordach placed two fingers of his right hand on the strongbox access panel, and a drawer slid out. He took something out of the drawer, then restored it all, including the repulsor field. He walked back over to Zidarov, carrying what looked like a small bundle of black velvet. He gave it to Zidarov, then took his seat again.

‘Have a look,’ he said, sipping his own drink.

Zidarov unwrapped the parcel. At the centre of the velvet was a slim stasis-chamber with a transparent lid. Within the chamber he could clearly see a human finger, severed below the second joint. It was well preserved.

He looked up at Mordach. ‘Is this what I–’

‘You can open it. If you do so, either here or at your headquarters, you will see that it is Adeard’s. They chose the right finger – this one contains his bio-signature implant. The implant is the finest quality, completely tamper-proof. Let me assure you, probator, that this is no game.’

Zidarov stared at it for a while. ‘When did this come to you?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘You didn’t think to contact me?’