Price laughed, although it was obviously forced. ‘Indeed. Indeed.’ He licked his lips. ‘I am sorry about the mix-up, you know. It was simple human error that can happen to us all.’ He glanced anxiously at Winter. ‘No one’s perfect. And I do have some incredibly difficult people in my Department who…’

Tarquin cleared his throat. ‘Adeptus Price? Could you come over here, please, sir?’

Fleeting annoyance flashed across Price’s face. ‘Excuse me,’ he muttered, turning away to help Tarquin with the difficult task of opening a filing cabinet.

‘I feel a bit sorry for him,’ I whispered to Winter. ‘He’s clearly out of his depth here. And he did apologise.’

Winter glowered. ‘Then in the same breath he blamed his Department for the cock-up. He’s the one in charge. He should take full responsibility.’

I kept my voice low to avoid being overheard. ‘By his own admission, he doesn’t get a lot of respect from his team. Is he another person who benefited from Diall’s work? It would make sense, given he was looking for him for help.’

‘You mean was Price promoted despite being ill-equipped to manage the job?’ Winter watched the witch put his hands on his hips and glare ferociously at Tarquin. ‘It’s certainly possible. He’s only Adeptus Major. But not many witches are keen to run HR. It’s not exactly a glamorous position.’

I’d say. ‘We should ask him for his own personnel file too,’ I suggested.

Winter quirked up an eyebrow. ‘We should request the personnel file of the Head of HR from the Head of HR?’

I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’ My mouth twitched. ‘You are Arcane Branch, right?’ I teased.

‘We,’ he said. ‘We are Arcane Branch, Ivy.’

‘So you’re saying I should ask for it?’

Price began walking back to us. ‘You will keep your mouth shut,’ Winter told me. Contradictory plonker.

Price stopped in front of Winter, looking worried. ‘There is a slight problem,’ he said.

‘What’s that?’

‘Oscar Marsh’s file isn’t here.’

‘Then,’ Winter said, his voice dropping dangerously, ‘where is it?’

‘Geomancy must have checked it out.’ He looked over his shoulder to Tarquin who was still standing, looking bored. ‘Have you got the logbook there?’

Tarquin held up a battered-looking notebook. ‘Yes.’ He scurried over, handing it not to Price but to Winter. Price glared and tried to snatch it out of Winter’s hands; when that didn’t work, he pushed me out of the way so he could peer over Winter’s shoulder. If that bothered Winter, he didn’t let it show. He flipped through the pages, using his finger to track down the columns.

‘Ha! There!’ Price crowed. ‘Marsh’s file was logged out last week.’ He paused. ‘I can’t read that signature. Honestly, some people have appalling handwriting.’

Winter snapped the book shut and handed it back to Price. ‘Thank you for your time.’ He turned away then paused, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. ‘Where were you yesterday morning, Adeptus Price?’

He blinked rapidly. ‘Er…’ He looked to Tarquin for help.