Stem-Fulcher handed him another paper. Again, he and Rescue read together. This time, the reaction was almost immediate. Rescue hissed and bit the inside of his cheek, chewing with concentration. At almost the same time, Rudgutter gave a little sigh of comprehension, a tremulous little exhalation.

The home secretary watched them impassively.

“Obviously, our mole in Motley’s offices doesn’t know what’s going on. She’s totally confused. But the snatches of conversation she’s noted down . . . see this? ‘The moss are out . . . ?’ I think we can all agree that she misheard that, and I think we can all agree on what was really said.”

Rudgutter and Rescue read and reread the report wordlessly.

“I’ve brought the scientific report we commissioned at the very start of the SM project, the feasibility study.” Stem-Fulcher was speaking quickly, without emotion. She dropped the report flat on the desk. “I’ve drawn your attention to a few particularly relevant phrases.”

Rudgutter opened the bound report. Some words and sentences were circled in red. The mayor scanned them quickly: . . . extreme danger . . . in case of escape . . . no natural predators . . .

. . . utterly catastrophic . . .

. . . breed . . .

Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mayor Rudgutter reached out and unplugged his speaking tube again.

“Davinia,” he said. “Cancel all appointments and meetings for today . . . no, for the next two days. Apologies wherever necessary. No disturbances unless Perdido Street Station explodes, or something of that magnitude. Understood?”

He replaced the plug and glared at Stem-Fulcher and Rescue.

“What by damn, what in Jabber’s name, what the godshit was Motley playing at? I thought the man was supposed to be a professional . . .”

Stem-Fulcher nodded.

“This was something that came up when we were arranging the transfer deal,” she said. “We checked his record of activity—much of it against us, it has to be pointed out—and gauged him to be at least as capable as ourselves of ensuring security. He’s no fool.”

“Do we know who’s done this?” asked Rescue. Stem-Fulcher shrugged.

“Could be a rival, Francine or Judix or someone. If so, they’ve bitten off a godsdamned sight more than they can chew . . .”

“Right.” Rudgutter interrupted her with a peremptory tone. Stem-Fulcher and Rescue turned to him and waited. He clenched his fists together, put his elbows on the table and closed his eyes, concentrating so hard that his face seemed ready to splinter.

“Right,” he repeated, and opened his eyes. “First thing we have to do is verify that we are faced with the situation that we think we’re faced with. That might seem obvious, but we have to be a hundred per cent sure. Second thing is come out with some kind of strategy for containing the situation quickly and quietly.