The others followed. Derkhan did not protest at Barbile’s treatment. Lemuel was right. They did not have time.

Mr. X was standing holding the woman. He held her patiently as she flopped and snapped back and forth, emitting terrible crooning moans from behind his hand. Her eyes were wide and white and hysterical with fear.

“Dear gods,” breathed Isaac. “She thinks we’re going to kill her! Stop!”

“Magesta,” said Derkhan loudly, kicking the door closed without looking. “Magesta, you have to stop this. We’re not militia, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a friend of Benjamin Flex.”

At that Barbile opened her eyes wider and her struggles slowed.

“Right,” said Derkhan. “And Benjamin’s been taken. I suppose you know that.” Barbile watched her and nodded quickly. Lemuel’s enormous employee dropped his hand from Barbile’s mouth experimentally. She did not scream.

“We’re not the militia,” repeated Derkhan slowly. “We’re not going to take you like they took him. But you know…you know…if we could trace you, if we could suss out who was Ben’s contact, that they’re going to be able to.”

“I…That’s why I…” Barbile glanced over at the discarded rifle. Derkhan nodded.

“All right, listen, Magesta,” she said. She spoke very clearly, her eyes on Barbile’s all the time. “We don’t have much time…Let go of her, you arse! We don’t have much time, and we have to know exactly what’s going on. There is some mighty godsdamned weird stuff going on. And an awful lot of threads seem to converge on you. So let me suggest something. Why don’t you take us upstairs, before the militia come, and explain to us what’s going on?”

“I only just found out about Flex,” said Magesta. She was sitting huddled on her sofa, clutching a cold cup of tea. Behind her a large mirror took up most of the wall. “I don’t really follow the news. I had a meeting scheduled with him a couple of days ago, and when he didn’t come, I got really scared that he’d…I don’t know…told on me, or something.” He probably has, thought Derkhan, and said nothing. “And then I heard some rumours about what happened in Dog Fenn when the militia put down that riot…”

There was no godsdamn riot, Derkhan nearly shouted, but she controlled herself. Whatever reason Magesta Barbile may have had for giving information to Ben, political dissidence was clearly not one of them.

“So these rumours…” Barbile continued. “Well, I put two and two together, you know? And then…and then…”

“And then you hid,” said Derkhan. Barbile nodded.

“Look,” said Isaac suddenly. He had been silent until now, his face twisted tensely. “Can you not fucking feel it? Can’t you taste it?” He shook his hands in claws around his face, as if the air was a tangible thing he could grip and wrestle. “It’s as if the damn night air’s gone rancid. Now, maybe it’s just blind damn coincidence, but so far every bad thing that’s happened for the last month seems to be tied in to some fucking conspiracy, and I’m damn well betting that this ain’t an exception.”

He leaned in close towards Barbile’s pathetic figure. She gazed at him, timid and terrified.

“Doctor Barbile,” he said levelly. “Something that eats minds…including my friend’s mind; a militia raid on Runagate Rampant; the very fucking air around our ears turning into some rotten soup…What is going on? What’s the connection with dreamshit?”

Barbile began to cry. Isaac nearly howled with irritation, turning from her and throwing up his hands in exasperation. But then he turned back. She was speaking through her snivels.

“I knew it was a bad idea…” she said. “I told them we should keep control of the experiment…” Her words were almost unintelligible, broken and interrupted with a slew of snotty tears. “It hadn’t been going long enough…They shouldn’t have done it…”

“Done what?” said Derkhan. “What did they do? What was Ben talking to you about?”

“About the transfer,” sobbed Barbile. “We hadn’t finished the project but we suddenly heard it was being wound down, but…but someone found out what was really happening…Our specimens were being sold…to some criminal…”

“What specimens?” said Isaac, but Barbile was ignoring him. She was unburdening herself in her own time and her own order.

“It wasn’t quick enough for the sponsors, you know? They were getting…impatient…The applications they thought there might be…military, psychodimensional…they weren’t coming. The subjects were incomprehensible, we weren’t making progress, and…and they were uncontrollable, they were just too dangerous…” She raised her eyes and her voice, still crying. She paused, then continued, quieter again.

“We might have got somewhere, but it was taking too long. And then…the money people must’ve got nervous. So the project director told us it was over, that the specimens had been destroyed, but that was a lie…Everyone knew it. This wasn’t the first project, you know…” Isaac and Derkhan’s eyes widened sharply, but they were silent. “We already knew one sure way to make money from them…

“They must’ve sold them to the highest bidder…to someone who could use them for the drug…That way the sponsors made their money back and the director could keep the project going for himself, co-operating with the drug-man he sold them to. But it wasn’t right…It wasn’t right that the government should make money from drugs and it wasn’t right that they should steal our project…” Barbile had stopped crying. She just sat, rambling. They let her talk.

“The others were just going to leave it, but I was angry…I hadn’t seen them hatch, I hadn’t learnt what I needed to learn, for nothing. And now they were going to be used for…for some villain to make money…”

Derkhan could scarcely believe the naivety. So this was Ben’s contact. This stupid minor scientist piqued at having her project stolen. For that, she had given evidence of the government’s illicit deals, she had brought the wrath of the militia onto her own head.

“Barbile,” said Isaac again, much quieter and calmer this time. “What are they?”

Magesta Barbile looked up at him. She looked slightly unhinged.

“What are they?” she said dazedly. “The things that’ve escaped? The project? What are they?”

“Slake-moths.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Isaac nodded as if this revelation made sense. He prepared to ask her another question, but her eyes were no longer on him.

“I knew they’d escaped because of the dreams, you know?” she said. “I could tell they were out. I don’t know how they escaped. But it shows that their damn sell-off was a bad idea, doesn’t it?” Her voice was strained with desperate triumph. “That’s one in the eye for Vermishank.”

At the sound of the name, Isaac felt himself spasm. Of course, a part of his mind thought, calmly. Makes sense that he’d be in on this. Another part of him was screaming internally. The strands of his life were throttling him like some unforgiving net.

“What’s Vermishank got to do with this?” he said carefully. He saw Derkhan look at him sharply. She did not recognize the name, but she could tell that he did.

“He’s the boss,” said Barbile, surprised. “He’s the head of the project.”

“But he’s a bio-thaumaturge, not a zoologist, not a theorist…Why’s he in charge?”

“Bio-thaumaturgy’s his specialism, not his only area. He’s mainly an administrator. He’s in charge of all the biohazard stuff: Remaking, experimental weapons, hunter organisms, diseases…”

Vermishank was in charge of sciences at the University of New Crobuzon. It was a high-profile, prestigious position. It would be unthinkable to award such an honour to someone antagonistic to the government: that was obvious. But Isaac realized now that he had underestimated Vermishank’s involvement with the state. He was more than just a yes-man.