The duty officer met her gaze bravely. ‘Yes, I appreciate that. I should not have allowed an executive to override my professional instincts. I shall not let it happen again.’

‘Good.’ Hewitt nodded and scribbled on her display pad. ‘That’s noted, and appreciated. Superintendent Lahiri, can we go back to the matter of the criminal who, according to Chris Faulkner’s testimony, was responsible for hiring the sicario.’

The superintendent nodded. He was a wiry, tough-looking man in his fifties, an obvious hangover from the autonomous days. He had kept quiet for most of the proceedings and watched the interplay with shrewd attention. When he spoke, it was with the precision of a man who measured and cut his sentences before uttering them.

‘Khalid Iarescu, yes. He has been arrested.’

‘Has he confessed?’

Lahiri frowned. ‘He is a career criminal, Ms Hewitt. Simply arresting him has caused serious injury to three of my men. We are unlikely to extract a confession.’

‘Can’t we put pressure on his family?’

‘Not without further large-scale incursions into the southside, and that I would not recommend. The populace is already stirred up more than we’d like. And Iarescu has unchallenged control of the Mandela estate, as well as agreements with the ganglords in neighbouring areas. His immediate family are doubtless already well hidden and protected. And his lawyers are now attempting to have him released under the Citizen’s Charter.’ Lahiri spread his hands. ‘I can have him charged with resisting arrest, maybe with one or two outstanding drug offences, but beyond that, I am not hopeful. Even within that framework I am not hopeful that we can secure a conviction. Khalid Iarescu is a well-connected man.’

Bryant snorted. ‘He’s a fucking gangwit, is what he is.’

Notley cut him a sharp look. ‘The name, Superintendent. It’s what, Hungarian?’

‘Romanian. That is, his father was a Romanian immigrant. His mother is Moroccan.’

‘Can we threaten him with expulsion?’ Notley had shifted focus. The question was addressed to the Minister.

The holo shook its head regretfully.

‘No, I’ve examined the files. Both parents were naturalised. He is, in technical terms, as English as you or I.’

Notley rolled his eyes.

Hamilton made a sleepy gesture. ‘Just a thought. The boy who actually stole the car. He had family?’

‘Yes.’ Lahiri looked down at his notes, did not look up again while he spoke. ‘The Goodwins. Mother and father, two brothers and a sister. They’ve been evicted. As per policy.’

‘Yes, good.’ Hamilton reached for his glass of water and sipped at it. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that this Iarescu will be seen to associate with them. Offer them succour, so to speak. Solidarity from the estate patriarch. The, uh, big man ethos.’

Lahiri shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that, sir, outside of the movies. Iarescu is a successful criminal. He knows the ropes both within and without the zones. If anything, he will distance himself from the whole affair. In fact,’ - a hesitant look at Chris - ‘I’m afraid there really is nothing substantial to make the connection in the first place.’

Chris held down his temper. They’d been round this block before. ‘I told you what I heard, Superintendent. I didn’t imagine it. The boy named the estate, and Iarescu.’

‘Yes, I understand that, sir. But you must see that this in itself is not evidence. No, please.’ He raised a hand. ‘Hear me out. In gang culture, status is accorded by association. The boy may have believed that by naming a major player as his sponsor, he could protect himself.’

‘Fascinating,’ murmured Hamilton. ‘Almost talismanic, isn’t it. Almost tribal.’

Lahiri’s lip almost curled. ‘Moreover, the tag Fuktional is close to generic. In the southside zones alone, you have gang leaders styling themselves Fuktion Red, Sataz Fuktion, Fuktyal, Fuktyal Bass. The list goes on. Gang culture is mimetic, imaginative only within very limited given parameters. To my ears, what you heard has the ring of stock response.’

Chris shook his head.

‘Do you have something fresh to add, Chris?’ asked Louise Hewitt sweetly.

Silence. Some shuffling from the duty officer. The Minister’s holo checked its watch, surreptitiously. Jack Notley uncapped an antique fountain pen with a loud snap.

‘Well, then,’ he said briskly. ‘If we can proceed to recommendations.’

‘Motherfucking whitewash bullshit.’ Chris wasn’t sure if Mike’s place was secure or not; pre-Vasvik, he’d never even have given it consideration. Now he just didn’t care. The long squeeze of keeping to the Shorn script had festered in him for too long. ‘Fucking lies and shit-mouthed expediency from end to motherfucking end.’

‘You think so?’

Mike leaned across the kitchen table with the rioja and topped up his glass. Behind the gesture, he raised his brows at Suki, who shrugged and went on sculpting roses into the carrot sections on her chopping board.

Chris missed it. ‘Of course it was. Stock response, my fucking arse. That kid was hired by Iarescu to grease me, and someone hired Iarescu to get it done. Someone with money.’

Mike was silent. Chris gestured with his wine glass.

‘You heard what Lahiri said. Iarescu’s connected, in the zones and out. This is corporate, Mike. This came down from on high.’

‘Chris, you realise how paranoid you sound?’

‘I was there, Mike. They blew that kid away to stop him talking.’

Bryant frowned and leaned back in his chair. ‘The report says he went for a weapon.’

‘Oh, Mike. He was pinned in the fucking wreckage.’ Chris caught Suki’s glance at the ceiling. She’d only put Ariana to bed an hour ago. He lowered his voice. ‘Sorry, Suki. I’m just. Upset.’

‘We’re all upset, Chris.’ Mike got up and prowled the kitchen. ‘Obviously. I mean, yeah, we can’t have just anybody on the roads, raging without authorisation. The whole damn system’ll collapse.’

‘That’s what I’m telling you, Mike. This wasn’t just anybody. This was allowed to happen. They didn’t scramble the heli until they knew I’d driven that little shit off the road. They did what they were told, and they let it happen. I mean, why’d you think no one got sacked? The heli crew, the duty officer—‘

‘Come on. They all got reprimands. It’ll go—‘

‘Reprimands?’

‘—on their file. Christ, the duty officer got three months’ suspension without pay.’

‘Yeah, and did you see how happy he was with that? He’ll be taken care of, Mike.’

‘I think,’ said Bryant sombrely, ‘that he was happy because he still has a job to go back to. Notley could easily have kicked him into touch.’

‘Exactly. So why didn’t he? Someone’s got dual control here, Mike, and you know it. Someone’s cranking Notley’s cable.’

This time Mike Bryant laughed out loud. Suki frowned at him.

‘Michael, that’s not very nice. Chris is upset.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry. It’s just the thought of someone cranking the cables on Jack Notley. I mean come on, Chris. You know the man. Suki, you’ve met him. He’s not exactly malleable.’

They both looked at Chris. He sighed.

‘Alright, maybe not Notley. Maybe not that high up. Maybe Hewitt, she’s never liked me. Or, listen, maybe it’s as simple as Nick Makin looking for payback on that punch I landed.’ This time he caught the exchange of glances between husband and wife. ‘Alright, alright, I know. But I’m not paranoid, Mike. Someone tampered with my proximity alarm.’

‘The report said it was the rain, Chris. You saw that crack.’ Bryant turned to include Suki. ‘The mechanics at Driver Control found a leak in the access panelling on Chris’s security masterboard. It shorted out the whole alarm system.’

‘Oh bullshit, Mike. Carla checks those panels every—‘ He gestured, suddenly unnerved by his lack of certainty. ‘I don’t know, every week, at least. She would have spotted it.’