She adjusted the display.

‘How about this?’

Drusher pushed his spectacles down his nose and squinted at the pict.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. That’s him. Who is he? Is he a suspect? Is he a criminal?’

‘His name is Esic Fargul,’ said Voriet.

‘So… related to the man who died here?’ asked Drusher.

‘Both images are Esic Fargul,’ said Voriet, ‘taken forty years apart. He is the man who died here. In the fifth floor bedroom, thirty years ago.’

There was a long silence.

‘Well, that,’ said Drusher, ‘I mean… that… that’s patently ridiculous. I mean, I spoke to him. I shook his hand.’

‘Quite possibly,’ said Voriet. ‘That doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead.’

‘I shook his hand…’ said Drusher quietly.

‘Take a deep breath,’ said Betancore softly. ‘Sometimes these things are difficult to process.’

‘No, not really, mam,’ said Drusher. ‘Groxshit, however, is difficult to process. Your data is wrong, Master Voriet. He clearly isn’t dead.’

‘He died of age-related illness and poor circumstance,’ said Voriet. ‘He was ninety-seven.’

‘Then the body was misidentified.’

‘Magos Drusher, please try to accept this information,’ said Voriet. ‘Even if Fargul was somehow still alive, you admit the man you saw was much younger.’

‘Well, juvenat work,’ said Drusher. ‘It reverses the ageing process, doesn’t it? That’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never had it myself.’

‘I have,’ said Medea Betancore. ‘I am one hundred and sixty-four standard years old.’

Drusher’s eyes widened.

‘Inquisitor Eisenhorn is at least a century older,’ she continued. ‘Magos, juvenat work arrests ageing. It seldom reverses it. If Fargul was alive, he would not look fifty or sixty years younger than he did in later life.’

‘So, you’re telling me,’ said Drusher, ‘a more reasonable explanation is that I met a ghost?’

‘The term is inexact,’ said Voriet.

‘And shook his damned hand?’

‘Let’s talk about what you discussed with him,’ said Voriet.

‘No,’ said Drusher firmly. ‘No, that’s not going to happen. Two things are going to happen first. I want some anxiety meds. Strong ones. And I want an explanation that entirely lacks groxshit. And that’s not an either/or thing. I want both. Now. Or I’m going to pack my bag and leave.’

‘Don’t be awkward, magos,’ said Voriet.

‘We need to tell him,’ said Betancore. ‘At least the basics.’

Drusher thought she was talking to Voriet, but he saw she was looking up into space almost blankly. There was a soft pop, as though Drusher had yawned and cleared his ears. He distinctly heard a voice say +Proceed.+

‘What was that?’ he asked.

‘I think it would be better coming from you,’ she said. Again, she was not speaking to Drusher or Voriet. ‘I know you’re tired, but I think–’

+Wait.+

Betancore looked at Drusher.

‘Wait a moment, magos,’ she said.