He tossed the tube back to Davinch.

‘I said get the kit, Davinch,’ he snapped. ‘So, get the kit.’

Davinch hurried back to the lockers. Gobleka peered into Eisenhorn’s eyes. Eisenhorn just glared into the distance and ignored the eerie violet eyes fixing him.

‘Did you search him?’ Gobleka asked.

‘Of course,’ Davinch called back. ‘A few bits and pieces. A back-up gun in his chest rig. I took that.’

‘Now, what’s going to happen,’ Gobleka said to Eisenhorn, standing so close they were nose-to-nose, ‘is that I’m going to help you. That’s a surprise, isn’t it? I’m going to keep you alive. I’m going to take the pain away. All the pain, physical and mental. That frigged-up psyker mind of yours must be ready to burst by now, right?’

Eisenhorn said nothing.

‘This is a big day for you, you know?’ said Gobleka. ‘Think of it like… think of it like this is what your entire life has been about. Everything you are, everything you’ve ever done, leading up to this moment. Right here.’

‘I think he was trying to trick us,’ said Davinch, returning with the kit. ‘You know? Like… get caught. He knew he couldn’t get past us, so I think he figured he’d let us take him so he could pull some stunt once he was here.’

‘Is that it?’ Gobleka asked Eisenhorn sidelong as he prepped an injector. ‘That didn’t work out so well, did it? If that was your plan, it turned into all kinds of shit, didn’t it? And there’s no one to bail you out, either. They’re all dead. You understand that, don’t you? They’re all dead, all your followers and associates. And if they’re not, they will be soon. The magos is hunting them down, any that are left. His instruments are loose in the tower. Your friends, Gregor Eisenhorn, you’ve brought them to a very, very bad end, you know that? If there are any left alive, which I very much frigging doubt, their deaths will be the most awful thing you can imagine. I bet they wish they’d never signed on. I bet they wish they’d never followed you, and never trusted that you knew what you were doing. You know, I bet their last living thought is hate. Hate for you. Hate for getting them into this mess. Your friends will die hating you for–’

‘They’re not my friends,’ said Eisenhorn.

Gobleka grinned, and checked the dose-load of the injector. ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s true. You’ve got to be a man’s friend to follow him into hell.’

Eisenhorn turned his head, slowly, and looked at Davinch.

‘He follows you,’ he said.

‘Davinch?’ Gobleka laughed. ‘He’s paid to. Paid very well. Besides, he sees the bigger picture. The great reward awaiting all those who participate.’