‘You’ve heard the joke about what Locust stands for, I take it. Well, many a true word and all that. There are secret deals get done. Always have been, and there’s none of us so stubborn and idealistic that we don’t understand why. When it’s a non-stop war, you have to choose your battles. You cannae fight on every front. You need treaties. You need alliances. Now, you know me, I don’t like to be telling tales …’

Catherine had to restrain a smile. Fletcher liked nothing better than to be telling tales. He was a three-decades cop and a gossiping sweetie-wife to boot, but his info was usually reliable.

He dropped his voice, though there was no one in the corridor to hear.

‘There’s a few folk wondering at what point the line between gaining somebody’s trust and being in somebody’s pocket starts to blur. I’m not one of them, by the way. I’m not saying Abercorn’s bent or he’s turned Indian, but as the boy Nietzsche warned, there’s a feedback effect if you spend too long staring into the darkness. I’m just saying, be wary of Abercorn until you know what game he’s really playing. And more importantly, whose side he’s on.’

Baby Steps and Dainty Feet

Jasmine stood in the silence of the office and warded off the voice that was asking her just what the hell she thought she was doing. She didn’t feel freaked by the place this morning, so that was progress, but the sense of forthright determination that had whisked her up and driven her here was in danger of running into a brick wall now that she had arrived. She had a choice of brick walls, in fact, none of them very far away in the cramped little suite.

She had been working as a private investigator, or at least a trainee private investigator, for a few weeks now. It wasn’t much, but it was more than most people. She had to think like an investigator. More specifically, she had to think like Jim. What would that be? She tried to remember, came up with methodical, plodding and a little dull. No, not dull, that was unfair. Dispassionate. Level-headed. Unflappable. Yeah, right, no bother. These past twenty-four hours there had been little but raw emotion going through her mind, so logic had no chance, like trying to do algebra while your sailboat sinks in a hurricane. She had to deal in facts and data, not shock and anxiety.