‘Please get out of the inquisitor’s way,’ said one of the Sirkles.
‘Oh, now,’ said Edur, ‘the inquisitor and I have an understanding, don’t we, sir?’
Rime stopped in his tracks and glared at Edur.
‘When this is done, Edur–’ he began.
‘What?’ asked Edur, with a wink. ‘Are you talking dinner? I don’t know, I’m not that sort.’
Rime let out a quiet curse of rage. One of the Sirkles stepped towards Edur.
Edur put his hand quickly on the butt of his pistol.
‘Uh uh,’ he warned. ‘An understanding, remember?’
‘What’s in the big black truck, inquisitor?’ Kolea asked as he and Baskevyl arrived.
‘Yes, inquisitor,’ said Edur, ‘what’s in the big, black truck?’
‘I’ll tell you as soon as I’ve completed the questioning process,’ said Rime, and pushed past them.
‘He’s a friendly soul,’ said Kolea.
‘Lovely manners,’ said Baskevyl.
Edur watched Rime stride away. A Sirkle unlocked the rear of the cargo-8, and Rime hoisted himself into the back.
‘It’s quite possible this is all going to get very ugly indeed,’ Edur remarked.
‘That’s fine,’ said Kolea.
‘Just say when,’ said Baskevyl.
‘Ugly is what we do best,’ said Kolea.
‘My name is Rime,’ said Rime as he climbed into the back of the armoured truck and sat down on one of the grille seats.
‘A rhyme for what?’ asked Blenner.
‘What?’
‘A rhyme for what?’ Blenner repeated.
‘You mis-heard me, sir,’ said Rime. ‘My name is Rime. Handro Rime, of the Inquisition.’
He opened his heavy leather wallet and displayed his rosette.
‘Oh, my mistake,’ said Blenner.
It was airless in the back of the truck. The portly commissar, who thought himself so amusing, was sweating, and the veiled widow beside him was resolutely saying nothing.
The datasheaf link had already told Rime more about Vaynom Blenner than Blenner would ever care to divulge. A Sirkle in the Balopolis Administratum had pulled Blenner’s dossier and sent it to the Sirkle surveying the Mithredates.
‘You know why you’re here?’ Rime asked.
‘I don’t even know where here is, frankly, so “why” is a whole separate enigma,’ Blenner replied.
Rime tried to assess if Blenner was just an idiot, or if he was playing some kind of clever game. On the grille bench beside Blenner, Criid was wondering precisely the same thing.
‘You’re a person of interest to us,’ Rime said, ‘a long-time associate of Ibram Gaunt. You met at school, I believe?’
‘I try to forget that part of my life, to be honest,’ said Blenner. ‘I was hopeless at games, and the other boys used to bully me. Wait though… I think one of them might have been named Gaunt. Basher Gaunt we used to call him, and he–’
‘Shut up,’ said Rime. ‘We know you know Gaunt. Our records are fairly detailed. Schola progenium, Ignatius Cardinal, and then several periods of contact, the last and longest since school being here on Balhaut during the last eighteen months or so. You meet regularly. You are both members of the Mithredates Club. He paid off your club dues last month because you were financially embarrassed.’
‘Wait… Is he a short, fat man with a beard?’ Blenner asked.
‘You last ate together three days ago,’ Rime said. ‘Gaunt signed the tab. He’s fond of you, evidently. You’re a childhood friend. Very few people in the service or the Guard have childhood friends anymore. He looks after you when your gambling problems get out of hand.’
‘I don’t have any gambling problems,’ said Blenner.
‘Do you want me to send for an audit of your fiscal affairs?’ Rime asked. ‘There’s one available, fresh off the sheaf. I hear it’s a shameful mess.’
Blenner fell silent.
‘You know Gaunt,’ said Rime. ‘The fact is well-documented. That’s why we put a watch on you, as a person of interest. Less than twelve hours before Ibram Gaunt went missing with a high-value asset, and Section was attacked, you had lunch with him. What did you talk about, Vaynom?’
‘Oh, you know,’ said Blenner, ‘the usual chit-chat. How to recruit reliable Archenemy troopers this far into Imperial territory, the best way to storm the gatehouse, etcetera. All that blather–’
Rime’s fist caught him across the face, and smashed him off the grille seat into the side wall of the truck. Blenner’s head and shoulder met the metal wall, and he fell down hard.
Criid rose to her feet.
‘Leave him alone,’ she said.
‘You bastard,’ Blenner was moaning from the deck.
Rime rose to face Criid. ‘What did you say?’
‘Leave him alone,’ Criid repeated slowly.
‘Protective, are you?’ asked Rime. ‘Protective? Sergeant Criid? Oh, yes, we know who you are too. Palm-scans don’t lie. Conveying a message to Gaunt’s good friend, were you?’
Criid pulled off her veil, and glared at Rime.
‘Interesting,’ Rime said, not breaking eye contact. ‘You’re not what I imagined from the first female officer of the Tanith Ghosts.’
‘What did you imagine?’ she asked.
‘Something rather more masculine,’ he said.
Criid kicked him in the face. Despite the heavy trains of her slighted mourning, she rotated enough to smash her foot into his mouth. He crashed backwards into the truck’s wall. Criid raked up her hopelessly stupid skirts to get at her straight silver.
Rime came back at her. He was laughing. It was a nasty laugh, the sort of laugh a man would utter if he were playing games and liked a little rough stuff. He punched Criid in the shoulder, hard enough to make her cry out, then slammed a rising forearm into her mouth so hard that it tumbled her into the cab wall of the truck’s back space.
Rime was on her in a second, before she could rise, before she could stop her head spinning. Somehow, the bastard had got her knife.
He put it against her throat.
‘No more fighting from you,’ he said. He looked over at Blenner.
Blenner had crawled into a corner of the cabin space on his arse, dabbing the blood that was weeping from his nose.
‘Last chance, Vaynom,’ Rime called. He had Criid’s own straight silver pressed against her exposed throat. The blade was already welling blood.
‘Last chance. What did he tell you? What message did he have this bitch bring to you?’
‘I think the message ran, “Screw you, inquisitor”,’ said Blenner, ‘although I can’t be sure.’
Criid laughed out loud. Rime drew the knife deeper.
A long rivulet of blood streamed down Criid’s neck, and began to soak into the collar of her dress. She made no sound.
‘Really, Vaynom, the very last chance. What did he say?’
‘He wants to meet me,’ Blenner cried.
‘When?’
‘Today at four! Please stop cutting her!’
‘Where?’ asked Inquisitor Rime.
‘That’s the thing, I don’t know!’ cried Blenner. ‘He said I’d know the place, but I can’t make head nor tail of it. Please, stop it!’
‘What did he say?’ asked Rime, very slowly and precisely.
‘He said I’d know the place that… that he’d made sure isn’t there.’
Rime jumped down out of the truck, and the nearest Sirkle secured the door.
The other two Sirkles closed with their master.
‘Blenner’s an idiot,’ Rime told them quietly. ‘He really hasn’t the wit for subterfuge, so Gaunt must be desperate to try to use him. Gaunt’s tried to arrange a meet, but Blenner is confused by the coded nature of the location.’
‘Perhaps he’s acting dumb?’ a Sirkle suggested.
Rime shook his head.