Kate returned from seizing the automatic weapons from the dead guards, dumped them onto the desk and gripped Salter’s right wrist. Alex removed the man’s firearm from its holster and lay a forceful hand against his forehead, pressing the back of his skull against the table. Ewan inspected the man’s face, tracking where his eyes went in case they revealed his intentions. His gaze seemed to land on McCormick.

‘You’re him,’ Salter gasped with widening eyes. ‘You’re actually him… you’re Joseph McCormick!’

McCormick chuckled, and raised his hands in fake astonishment.

‘Wow, this identification chamber really does work!’ he said with a laugh. Ewan tried not to smile, but it was difficult to resist the ageing man’s wit. McCormick walked to the clones and picked up their radios, before leaning directly over Salter’s face. Ewan had never seen Dr Joseph McCormick as an imposing figure – authoritative, maybe, but not imposing. Perhaps he was seeing what the man had once been like with his university students when they needed a serious talking-to.

‘We don’t have much time,’ started McCormick. ‘It’s a quarter past eight, and we need to be done by midnight. You must be clever enough to know what we’re doing here.’

‘The AME shield,’ Salter gasped. ‘You want me to stop it going up, otherwise you’ll kill me… if killing is your modus operandi…’

‘Our what?’ asked Kate.

‘Our way of doing things,’ answered McCormick.

Ewan gave no reaction, glad that Kate had been the one to ask the question. He had spent enough of his life looking like the stupid one in large groups.

‘I know you’ve killed hundreds of clones between you,’ Salter said with a panicked squirm, ‘but clones are clones, here today and gone tomorrow. Could you really bring yourself to slaughter a human being? One who can look you in the eyes and speak in your own language?’

Ewan trembled at the memory of the real humans who had died by his hands. Salter was wrong in assuming he couldn’t kill humans, but the words affected him anyway.

But still, Ewan could use his history to his advantage.

‘Remember Steven Elcott?’ he asked. ‘Fat guy, worked in the officers’ sector on Floor S, died last month?’

Salter’s eyes widened as they met Ewan’s, which alone answered the question.

‘Yeah, that was me. He was my third human. Strictly speaking, I’ve been a human-killer since Takeover Day.’

‘Who the hell did you kill on Takeover Day?’ asked Alex with a curious laugh.

‘Shut up, that’s who,’ Ewan replied.

Ewan turned his eyes away from the inevitable hurt in McCormick’s face, and hoped he didn’t look so guilty that Salter picked it up. But either way, their captive must have had other things on his mind.

‘You still remember Steven’s name,’ Salter whispered. ‘He must still haunt you.’