‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Drusher. ‘You need a proper morgue and laboratory to conduct–’

‘Orders of the lead investigator,’ Garofar repeated.

‘Well, he sounds like an idiot,’ said Drusher.

‘Oh, he’s not,’ said Garofar. ‘I don’t know what he is, apart from damn scary, but he’s not an idiot.’

‘I disagree, and I’ll tell him so to his face,’ said Drusher. ‘I’ve only ever assisted law enforcement cases, but I know well enough there’s a proper procedure for this kind of thing.’

They had reached a door.

‘This the haunted bedroom, deputy?’ Drusher asked.

‘Well, the old man died here years ago,’ replied Garofar.

‘Which old man?’

‘Fargul. Last person to own this place. I don’t think he’s still here, so you’ll be all right.’

He opened the door, and they went in. It had once been a grand bedroom, but the plaster was crumbling, and the boards were bare. Large windows, the shutters open, overlooked the valley below. It smelled damp.

Drusher and Garofar halted in their tracks. There was a man standing by one of the windows, his back to them. He was staring out. He was tall, broad and solid, his bulk covered in a long, black coat.

‘Throne, but you scared me!’ exclaimed Garofar. ‘I didn’t know you were back, sir.’

The man turned to look at them. It was impossible to discern his age. His craggy face was grizzled and badly scarred. Augmetic plugs and leads trailed back from pinch points and sockets in his hairless scalp, and disappeared down under his high collar. His expression was impenetrable.

‘That will be all, deputy,’ he said.

‘Shall I tell the others that you’re–’

‘That will be all,’ the man said. ‘Unless you’d like to stay and discuss the unguarded sharing of confidential matters with outsiders.’

Garofar put the bag down, shot a look at Drusher and left.

‘You’re Drusher?’ the man asked, staring at Drusher. ‘The one Macks recommended?’

‘I am,’ said Drusher.

‘My name is Eisenhorn,’ the man said. ‘I believe there was something you wanted to tell me to my face.’

Five

FIVE

Classified

Drusher followed the inquisitor back downstairs. The rain had come up again, and he could hear it pelting against the thick walls.

‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ he said.

‘I don’t really care,’ replied Eisenhorn.