‘Of course. There is a rotating watch being kept on the others, sir. I’ll be handling Wienand myself.’
‘Good. Get some rest, your mark will be busy for the next hour at least, I would say. You’ll be able to pick her up again in the sub-basement beneath the Ice Conservatory.’ The knowledge that he had deduced the inquisitor’s route to the Sigillite’s Retreat gave Vangorich a satisfying warmth in his stomach. ‘Be ready for anything.’
Krule nodded and broke away, heading out of a side door while Vangorich continued towards the end of the chamber. The Grand Master waited at the door for a moment, listening intently. There was no sound outside. He opened the door and stepped out into the empty corridor. Crossing the wide passage to a nondescript door opposite, Vangorich let himself into the dormitories for the former workers of the scriptorium he had just left. Bare wooden cots, small side tables and foot lockers were where their occupants had left them, though the bedclothes had been stripped. The walls were tiled with white, as was the floor, giving the bare room a clinical, sterilised feel.
Vangorich moved aside the bunk at the far end and carefully pulled out a broken wall tile near the floor to expose a keyhole. Kneeling, he slipped a key from his waistband and turned the lock. Part of the wall shifted fractionally into the room. Shuffling back, Vangorich used the key as a handle to lift the hinged portal, exposing the foot of a ladder disappearing below the dormitory. Withdrawing his key, the Master of Assassins replaced the broken tile, ducked into the small alcove behind the wall and pulled the door shut behind him.
In gloom he descended the ladder, counting out ninety-three rungs. The ladder continued down all the way to the sub-levels, another seven hundred and eight steps; he had counted them himself. Still in total darkness he stepped out to the left, swinging himself out into what seemed like thin air. The tip of his boot scraped against a ledge no wider than his thumb while the fingertips of his left hand found a similar purchase just above head height.
He edged spider-like for ten feet, between what he had subsequently discovered were the walls of an Ecclesiarchy chapel and the robing rooms of the female clergy members. He wondered if the small hidden space into which he lowered himself had first been designed by a less-than-chaste preacher or cardinal. It mattered not; the small door that had once led to it from a trapdoor in the chapel had been blocked with ferrocrete.
From here, Vangorich was able to move, bent almost double, through the collapsed catacombs of the Shrine of Imperial Mercies, once the Palatine Tower that had guarded the inner western curtain wall of the Imperial Palace. Still without any light he counted the crab-like steps until he came to an empty tomb. Pulling aside the cover, he pulled himself into the sarcophagus.
Floorboards overhead turned into rafters, in a way only found in somewhere as labyrinthine as the Imperial Palace. Dropping down ten feet to a solid wooden floor, Vangorich straightened and dusted himself off. From here it was just a few feet to the rotating section of wall that left him looking through one of the archways leading to the Sigillite’s Retreat.
Wienand was already waiting for him, as he suspected she would be. The ruddy smoke had been their agreed sign for urgent action. She was bent over a digi-scroll reader.
‘Which one of them do you want dead first?’ Vangorich asked, stepping into the bare garden.
Wienand sat up and her head snapped round in shock. She took a deep breath, shook her head in disapproval of Vangorich’s theatrics, and stowed the scroll reader in a bag in her lap.
‘None of them,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘Tempting as it is, I don’t think I want to go that far, and certainly not using one of your operatives. You do know that your department is only meant to act with the approval of the High Lords?’
‘A technicality. The High Lords. A High Lord. Is there a difference? And, as a member of the Inquisition, you bear the Emperor’s sigil. Your voice is His voice. The whole of the Imperium is yours to requisition, should you wish. You only need to ask…’
‘It would still cause ripples. A tidal wave, in fact. Look, let’s keep this brief. I came to warn you that Veritus is about to bring together the conclave to judge my actions as Inquisitorial Representative. Even if somehow I manage to wriggle out of that, I will be suspended from my office for the duration. I’m sure Veritus has someone already in mind should the Senatorum be convened in the meantime.’
‘By which you mean that Veritus will ensure the Senatorum is convened in your absence and his man, or woman, will take your place as the Inquisitorial Representative?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
Vangorich paced along one of the paths, avoiding the cracks between the slabs, to test himself rather than out of superstition.
‘Which one will it be?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’
Vangorich stopped, pivoted on his toes and looked at Wienand, his hands on his hips.
‘Which of Veritus’ followers is going to be replacing you? I could, you know, have them made unavailable.’
‘I don’t know. Besides, there are a dozen more inquisitors currently on Terra who might equally be in the frame for the position. I said no to any kill-missions and I mean it.’
‘So what do you propose to do about the situation?’
‘That is for me to worry about. In Lansung’s absence, thanks be to the Emperor for small mercies, it is possible for the Lord Commander to grant provisional first tier status to one of the other High Lords not in the Twelve. I have spoken with Udo, privately, and he is prepared to extend full senatorial rights to the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum. I need the Senatorum to convene before Veritus’ conclave begins so that Udo can forward the proposal and I can second it. You’ll need to be there too.’
‘All very good, but I fail to see why you needed to tell me this with such urgency.’
‘One of Veritus’ companions has gone missing.’
‘Machtannin? Yes, I know.’ As soon as he said the words Vangorich regretted his glibness. Before he could qualify his statement, Wienand was on her feet, pointing at the Grand Master.
‘Ah! So you’ve lost him as well!’
‘Momentarily misplaced, perhaps,’ confessed Vangorich, who didn’t like being caught in such an awkward position.
‘Find him,’ snapped Wienand. ‘You know he’s able to mask his true form, though to what extent we can only guess. Not like one of your Callidus Assassins, I’d wager, but certainly capable of mimicking anyone of the same basic physical structure. Veritus brought him here for a reason, to replace somebody, I’m sure of it.’
‘Replace whom?’
‘If I knew that I wouldn’t be here asking you to hunt him down, would I?’ Wienand flexed her fingers in agitation. ‘I consider Machtannin’s absence to be a paramount threat at this time. If you find him, try to take him alive.’
‘If that is not possible?’
‘Make it possible. Let’s hope he isn’t disguised as someone important.’
‘Very well. I assume I will receive no official notification of this mission?’
‘Your assumption is correct. I would certainly never condone the Officio Assassinorum being deployed against a fellow inquisitor, as I made clear at the start of this conversation.’
Vangorich smiled and sighed.
‘I do so like it when we are being absolutely clear. It makes my duties all the more pleasant. I shall deal with this bothersome shape-changer. Make sure you get me onto the Council of Terra again.’
‘Naphor incense when you’ve located Machtannin?’
‘As you say, Wienand. I look forward to a summons to the Senatorum Imperialis.’
‘And I look forward to a smudge of blue smoke.’
Thirteen
The politicking was, for the moment at least, forgotten. The endless charade of seniority and command had given way to a higher, purer purpose. Not in all his life as a Naval officer had Rafal Kulik witnessed anything as grand as he did the day the fleet of the Segmentum Solar fought the orks at Port Sanctus.