‘Hargreaves and Simmonds died as expected,’ Marshall finished, ‘but I’m led to believe we got one of them. The clone teams further afield reported no further kills. Oliver?’

Roth grinned. Time to shine. He reached into the rucksack next to his chair as he spoke.

‘Yep,’ he started, ‘another one down. I arrived at the test centre last night and confirmed it myself. If you want to see how effective the AME shield is, take a look at this.’

Roth brought his hand out from his rucksack and dumped a thick, red-stained forensic evidence bag onto the table. Marshall’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head. Even Pearce, no stranger to gore in the laboratory, opened his mouth so wide that Roth could smell the jalapeños.

The head inside the evidence bag was of Indian descent. It had young skin, and eyes that were squeezed shut. Roth was looking forward to researching the dead kid’s name once the meeting ended.

‘Bloody hell, Oliver…’ came Marshall’s voice.

‘As you can see,’ Roth said, ‘the shield works. This lad had metal implants in his spine… or I’m guessing he did, given the state of his remains.’

‘You realise,’ said Grant’s voice with a low chuckle, ‘that mutilating the deceased is against the Geneva Convention? And that includes decapitation.’

‘Decapitation? There was only a flap of skin holding it on when I found it. Now the best part is, the rest of his crew might have been watching when this happened. This guy’s body will be one hell of a deterrent for them. Raising the AME shield won’t just stop them from getting in. It’ll stop them from even thinking about it.’

Roth inspected the head on the table next to him. The jaw was broken, suggesting that it may have had metal teeth fillings too. A forensic analyst could have had so much fun looking at his remains.

‘Bringing a severed head to a meeting,’ said Marshall. ‘This is a new one, Oliver.’

‘You’re not grossed out, are you?’

‘No, just worried about your well-being.’

‘I’m doing better than him, don’t worry.’

Roth’s grin was not returned. Not even by Pearce.

‘Oliver,’ replied Marshall, ‘there’s no point in having unbridled enthusiasm if it’s counteracted by an enormous lack of judgement. A soldier must be objective and rational, and not waste time delighting in personal pleasures. And could you please stop drumming your fingers on Raj’s head while I’m talking to you?!’

Raj! So that was his name.

Roth stared at Marshall in the eyes, his expression an unwavering vision of confidence. As predicted, Marshall pushed the conversation no further.

It was a wonderful skill, his ability to shut up his boss whenever he wanted. The beautiful part was that the reason behind this ability was never spoken aloud, but always on both their minds.