"I've got to file an R60 and then Operational Oversight are going to be calling the shots. There'll probably be an enquiry. I may be suspended pending the outcome." Oddly, it's a lot easier to say this to Iris than it was to Mo.

Iris watches me for a few seconds. "Oh, you poor thing." She nods to herself. "Was it bad?"

"It was stupid," I say between gritted teeth. "Stupid, stupid. If I'd noticed the entanglement channel between the airframe and the control panel, or warded both artifacts at the same time, it wouldn't have happened. And if she'd opened the door five seconds sooner, or later, it wouldn't—shit. If I'd been told what the airframe had been used for I wouldn't have . . ." I trail off.

"Save it for the Auditors," Iris says tiredly. She takes her booted feet off the desk, then leans forward. "That phone call I just took was your case officer, Bob. I think you should go and get yourself a nice cup of tea or coffee or whatever pleases you, then go and wait in your office. Business as usual is canceled for the day, and if I catch you doing your time sheet or answering support queries I will personally kick you around the block, okay? Go play games on Facebook or something. I'll bring your case officer round and sit in with you while you fill out the R60, so you've got a witness. If you think she's giving you grief, let me know and I'll handle it. Then"—she takes a deep breath—"I'm signing you off sick for two weeks. You don't have to take it, I mean I can't force you, hell, maybe you'd rather do some light admin and filing than sit at home or go for a week in York—that's my suggestion—but you're overdue for a slowdown, and I'm going to make sure you get it."

"But Angleton—"

"Leave him to me," she says brightly, with a smile that shows me her teeth: "He'll do as I say."

Oh.

Before I can open my mouth and insert any feet, she adds, "It's Angleton's job to point you at the enemy, Bob, but it's my job to keep you from breaking. I take my job seriously. If I tell Angleton to back off, he will."

Oh. I hadn't looked at it quite that way before. I manage to nod, then close my mouth.

"Why?" I ask.

"Fatal accidents never have just a single cause," she tells me, "they happen at the end of a whole series of errors. What the enquiry is going to ask is, how far back did the chain start? And I'll tell you this right now, it started before Angleton shoved you out to go and do that job yesterday. But I'd better not say any more for now. Go and get that coffee: we've both got a tough morning ahead."