The witch began laughing.
‘What?’ Eyl asked.
‘We’ve made contact!’ she cried, pulling her hand out of his so she could clap delightedly. ‘Karhunan Sirdar’s element has made contact. The pheguth is running, but we have the trail again, strong and fresh!’
She turned her veiled face to look at her brother.
‘He’s out in the open again,’ she said. ‘We have his trail. Upon my soul, he is finished.’
Inquisitor Rime snapped the dossier shut and slapped it back into Sirkle’s hands.
‘It’s so obvious,’ he said, shaking his head and chuckling. ‘So damn obvious. I was over-thinking it.’
‘Sir?’
‘I was assuming that Gaunt’s message was an oblique reference to some private matter. It’s far less sophisticated than that.’
Rime began to pace up through the search group towards the front of the line, calling for the senior Tanith officers and the commanders of the S Company brigade. The Sirkles hurried after him.
‘Re-disposition!’ he shouted. ‘We’re moving towards the Oligarchy.’
‘The Oligarchy?’ asked Edur. ‘But there’s no evidence to suggest–’
‘That’s where he’s going,’ Rime snapped. ‘The Tower of the Plutocrat. Look it up on Gaunt’s record. I was an idiot not to make the connection before. How’s the fog looking?’
‘Clearing fast, sir,’ reported one of the Sirkles.
‘Put the birds back up. I want marksmen covering us overhead. Only the best.’
One of the Sirkles hurried off to do Rime’s bidding. Another two escorted Blenner and Criid over from the armoured truck.
‘Feth!’ Kolea whispered. ‘He’s got Tona. And isn’t that Gaunt’s commissar buddy?’
Baskevyl nodded. ‘When we get moving, we’d better stay near the front. We don’t want Rime getting there first.’
‘Agreed,’ said Kolea. He shouldered through the gathering press of men, and tried to get to Criid.
‘Tona. Tona!’ he called. She heard him, and saw him. She looked pale. She gave a little wave with cuffed hands.
‘That’s far enough,’ said one of the Sirkles, blocking Kolea’s path.
‘I want to talk to my sergeant,’ said Kolea.
‘She’s in Inquisition custody, so that’s not possible just now.’
‘But–’
‘Get back to your duty, major,’ Sirkle told him.
As the search group got ready to switch its focus, Edur caught a moment with Captain Tawil, one of the S Company officers.
‘Rime does not make a kill on Gaunt or the asset, all the while we can do anything to prevent it. Are we clear, captain?’
‘As glass, sir,’ said Tawil. He snapped his hellgun up across his shoulder, and ran towards his waiting men to give them instructions.
Edur watched him go. The commissar drew his bolt pistol, and checked the load. Then he holstered it and checked the charge of the short-frame laspistol that he kept in a shoulder rig under his coat as a back-up piece. Given the sledgehammer effect of the bolt pistol, Edur reasoned that he might soon have need of the laspistol’s finesse.
He looked up at the sky. The fog was lifting rapidly now, and the sky was a bowl of clear, glassy blue.
Out of the east, Edur heard the rising whine of gunship engines as the Valkyries swung in to join the hunt.
Pretending to be rearranging the latest crop of notices on the bulletin board, Nahum Ludd executed an expert bit of loitering around the doorway of the vox room.
The afternoon had cleared, and turned bright and sharp, and outside, he could hear men whooping and shouting as they played bat-and-ball out on the snowy quad.
Something caught Ludd’s attention. He peered through the half-open door, and watched the activity going on between Sirkle and the vox-operators. He tried to lip-read.
Sirkle suddenly strode out of the vox room, and Ludd quickly started to pin up the week’s duty roster. Ludd waited until Sirkle had disappeared. Then he hurried to Hark’s office.
‘What’s the matter, Ludd?’ Hark asked, looking up from his desk.
‘Something’s going on,’ Ludd said. ‘Sirkle just got very excited. I think I overheard him saying something about leaving Aarlem to rejoin his master. Sir, I think they’re onto something. I think they’ve figured out it’s the Tower, too.’
Hark swore and threw down his stylus.
‘We’re getting perilously close to the point where I end up doing something I know I’m going to regret,’ he said. He got to his feet. ‘Let’s check in on the temple.’
They went out into the hallway. Sirkle had reappeared, and was talking to one of the vox-operators near the door to the vox room. At the far end of the hallway, Dalin Criid suddenly ran into view. He skidded down to a walk in a hurry as soon as he spotted the ordo agent in the hallway.
He saw Hark and Ludd, made eye contact with them, and flicked a tiny gesture that they should follow him with a minute tilt of his head.
Hark walked up to Sirkle.
‘Developments?’ he asked.
‘You’ll be informed in due course, should they concern you,’ said Sirkle.
‘Well, you know where to find me,’ replied Hark and walked on down the hallway.
He and Ludd entered the temple house. Beltayn was manning the set with Dalin and Rerval, with Merrt left to watch the door.
‘Well?’ asked Hark.
Beltayn had the phones pressed to his ear.
‘It just woke up,’ he replied. ‘It’s coming from a different source, and the codes are wrong, but I think it’s genuine. I’m just waiting for the handshake.’
No one said anything for a minute. Then the vox-caster crackled into life.
‘Stronghold, Stronghold, this is Nalwood, this is Nalwood, please respond.’
Hark took the mic-horn from Beltayn.
‘Nalwood, Nalwood, this is Hark. Where the feth have you been?’
‘Nice to speak to you too, Hark,’ said Rawne, sitting back in the comfortable leather armchair. ‘We ran into a few difficulties at our previous location, so we’ve been forced to reposition, over.’
He glanced up at Meryn and Daur standing behind him in the small office. The vox-caster, a compact model, was set up on a sideboard in the corner of the room. They could smell obscura smoke drifting up from the parlour below.
‘Do I want to know what sort of difficulties, Rawne? Over,’ Hark asked over the line.
‘Probably not. Our comms went down. We’ve managed to locate an alternate resource, thanks to our bestest new friend, Mr Csoni.’
Lev Csoni was sitting in the outer office under the watchful eyes of Varl. Taking them over to his own gaming club, The Eight of Wands, on Brigantes Street, and allowing them free use of his vox had seemed like a small price to pay for his continued existence. Csoni had even let them use one of the big maroon limos that had brought his strike squad to Zolunder’s. The rest of the team was waiting with the car.
‘Tell me all about it later, Rawne,’ Hark said. ‘Things are moving fast. Gaunt’s surfaced.’
‘Where?’
‘As far as we can be sure, he’s due to show at the Tower of the Plutocrat, at four.’
Rawne looked at the long case clock in Csoni’s office. It was a quarter to, gone.
‘That’s cutting it fine,’ he replied. ‘The Tower’s long since fallen, hasn’t it?’
‘Correct.’
‘But it used to be by the Oligarchy Gate on the way into the High Palace?’
‘Correct again.’
‘The place we’re at is further north than Zolunder’s. It’s a twenty-five minute trip from here, especially with snow on the ground.’