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'Military？　Secular？'　I　asked。
Ravenor　shrugged。　'We　could　source　them　to　likely　manufacturers；　but　they　likely　supply　all　arms　of　the　Imperium。'

Aemos's　augmetic　optics　clicked　and　turned　as　he　peered　down　at　the　objects　on　the　cloth。　'The　farcoders；'　he　began；　'similarly
advanced。　It　takes　singular　skill　to　patch　one　of　these　successfully　into　a　comm…node。'
'It　takes　singular　skill　to　break　in　like　they　did；'　I　countered。
'They　have　no　maker　markings；　but　they're　clearly　refined　models　from　the　Amplox　series。　Much　more　refined　than　the　heavy…duty
units　the　military　use。　It's　just　conjecture；　but　I'd　say　this　was　beyond　the　Ministorum　too。　They're　notoriously　behind　when　it　comes　to
tech　advancements。'
'Who　then？'　I　asked。
'The　Adeptus　Mechanicus？'　he　ventured。　I　scowled。
He　shrugged；　smiling。　'Or　at　least　a　body　with　the　power　and　influence　to　secure　such　advanced　devices　from　the　Adeptus
Mechanicus。'
'Like？'
'The　Officio　Assassinorum？'
'Who　would　break　in　to　kill；　not　listen。'
'Noted。　Then　a　powerful　Imperial　house；　one　with　clout　in　the　Senatorum　Imperialis。'
'Possible…'　I　admitted。
'Or…'　he　said。
'Or？'
'Or　the　one　Imperial　institution　that　regularly　employs　such　devices　and　has　the　prestige　and　determination　to　make　sure　it　is　using　the
best　available　equipment。'
'That　being？'
Aemos　looked　at　me　as　if　I　was　stupid。
'The　Inquisition；　of　course。'
I　SLEPT　BADLY；　fitfully。　Three　hours　before　the　end　of　the　night　cycle；　I　sat　up　in　my　bed；　suddenly；　coldly　awake。
Dressed　only　in　the　sheet　I　had　wrapped　around　me；　I　stalked　out　into　the　hall；　my　grip　firm　on　the　matt…grey　snub　pistol　that　lived　in　a
holster　secured　behind　my　headboard。
Dim　blue　light　filtered　through　the　hallway；　softening　the　edges　of　everything。　I　crept　forward。
I　was　not　mistaken。　Someone　was　moving　about　down　below；　in　the　lower　foyer。
I　edged　down　the　stairs；　gun　braced；　willing　my　eyes　to　accustomise　to　the　gloom。
I　thought　to　hit　a　vox　and　alert　Kircher　and　his　staff；　but　if　someone　was　inside；　skillful　enough　to　get　past　the　alarms；　then　I　wanted　to
capture　him；　not　scare　him　off　with　a　full　blown　alert。　In　the　few　hours　since　I　had　arrived　back　at　the　Ocean　House；　a　nasty　taste　of
treachery　had　seeped　into　my　world。　It　might　be　largely　paranoia；　but　I　wanted　an　end　to　it。
A　beam　of　white　light　stabbed　across　the　foyer　floor　from　the　half　open　kitchen　doors。　I　heard　movement　again。
I　sidled　to　the　doorframe；　checked　the　safety　was　off；　and　slid；　weapon　first；　through　the　gap　in　the　doors。
The　outer　kitchen；　a　realm　of　marble…topped　workbays　and　scrubbed　aluminium　ranges；　was　empty。　Metal　pots　and　utensils　hung
silently　from　ceiling　racks。　There　was　a　smell　of　garlic　and　cooked　herbs　in　the　still　air。　The　light　was　on　in　the　inner　pantry；　near　the
cold　store；　and　the　illuminated　backwash　filled　the　room。
Two　steps；　three；　four。　The　kitchen's　stone　floor　was　numbingly　cold　under　my　bare　feet。　I　reached　the　door　to　the　inner　pantry。　There
was　movement　inside。
I　kicked　the　door　open　and　leapt　inside；　aiming　the　compact　sidearm。
Medea　Betancore；　clad　only　in　a　long；　ex…military　undershirt；　roared　out　in　surprise　and　dropped　the　tray　of　leftover　ketelfish　she　had
been　gorging　on。　The　tray　clattered　on　the　tiled　floor　in　front　of　the　open　larder。
'Great　gods　alive；　Eisenhorn！'　she　wailed　in　outrage；　jumping　up　and　down　on　the　spot。　'Don't　do　that！'
I　was　angry。　I　didn't　immediately　lower　my　aim。　'What　are　you　doing？'
'Eating？　Hello？'　She　sneered　at　me。　'Feel　like　I've　been　asleep　for　a　week。　I'm　famished。'
I　began　to　lower　the　gun。　A　sense　of　embarrassment　began　to　filter　into　my　wired　state。
'I'm　sorry。　Sorry。　You　should…　maybe…　get　dressed　before　you　come　down　to　raid　the　larder。'　It　sounded　stupid　even　as　I　said　it。　I
didn't　realise　how　stupid　until　a　moment　later。　I　was　too　painfully　aware　of　her　long；　dark　legs　and　the　way　the　singlet　top　was　curved
around　the　proud　swell　of　her　bust。
'You　should　take　your　own　advice…　Gregor；'　she　said；　raising　one　eyebrow。
I　looked　down。　I　had　lost　the　sheet　kicking　open　the　door。　I　was　what　Midas　Betancore　used　to　call　''very　naked''。
Except；　of　course；　for　the　loaded　gun。
'Damn。　My　apologies。'　I　turned　to　scrabble　for　the　fallen　sheet。
'Don't　stand　on　my　account；'　she　sniggered。
I　froze；　stooped。　The　muzzle　of　a　Tronsvasse　parabellum　was　pointing　directly　at　my　head　from　the　darkness　behind　me。
It　lowered。　Harlon　Nayl　looked　me　up　and　down　for　a　moment　in　frank　dismay　and　then　raised　a　warning　finger　to　his　lips。　He　was
fully　clothed；　damn　him。
I　retrieved　my　sheet。
'What？'　I　hissed。

'Someone's　in。　I　can　feel　it；'　he　whispered。　'The　noise　you　two　were　making；　I　thought　it　was　the　intruder。　Didn't　know　you　were　so
keen　on　Medea。'
'Shut　up。'
The　two　of　us　fanned　out　back　through　the　outer　kitchen。　Nayl　pulled　up　the　hood　of　his　vulcanised　black　bodyglove　to　cover　his　pale；
shaved　head。　He　was　a　big　man；　a　head　taller　than　me；　but　he　melted　away　into　the　darkness。　I　watched　carefully　for　his　signals。
Nayl　waved　me　left　down　the　hall。　I　trusted　his　judgment　completely。　He　had　stalked　the　galaxy's　most　innovative　and　able　scum　for
three　decades。　If　there　were　intruders；　he'd　find　them。
I　entered　the　Ocean　House's　main　hall；　and　saw　the　front　entry　was　ajar。　The　code　display　on　the　main　lock　was　blinking　a　default　of
zeros。
I　swung　round　as　a　gun　roared　behind　me。　I　heard　Nayl　cry　out　and　sprinted　back　into　the　inner　foyer。　Nayl　was　on　the　floor；　grappling
with　an　unidentifiable　man。
'Get　up！　Get　up！　I'm　armed！'　I　shouted。
In　reply；　the　unknown　intruder　smacked　Nayl's　head　back　against　the　floor　so　hard　he　knocked　him　out；　and　then　threw　Nayl's　heavy
sidearm　at　me。
I　fired；　once；　and　blew　a　hole　in　the　wall。　The　spinning　gun　clipped　my　temple　and　knocked　me　over。
I　heard　a　series　of　fleshy　cracks　and　impacts；　a　guttural　gasp　and　then　Medea　Betancore's　voice　shouting；　'Lights　up！'
I　rose。　She　was　standing　astride　the　intruder；　one　hand　braced　in　a　fierce　fist；　the　other　pulling　down　her　undershirt　for　modesty。
'I　got　him；'　she　said；　glancing　round　at　me。
The　dazed　intruder　was　clad　in　black　from　head　to　foot。　I　wrenched　off　his　hood。
It　was　Titus　Endor。
'Gregor；'　he　lisped　through　a　bloody　mouth。　'You　did　say　you　were　home。'
FOUR
BETWEEN　FRIENDS。
AN　INTERVIEW　WITH　LORD　RORKEN。
THE　APOTROPAIC　CONGRESS。
'GRAIN　JOILIQ；　WITH　shaved　ice；　and　a　sliver　of　citrus。'
Seated　in　my　sanctum　chamber；　Endor　took　the　proffered　drink　and　grinned　at　me。　'You　remembered。'
'Many　were　the　nights；　in　those　fine　old　days。　Titus；　I've　mixed　your　drink　of　choice　too　many　times　to　count。'
'Hah！　I　know。　What　was　that　place；　the　one　off　Zansiple　Street？　Where　the　host　used　to　drink　the　profits？'
'The　Thirsty　Eagle；'　I　replied。　He　knew　full　well。　It　was　as　if　he　was　testing　me。
'The　Thirsty　Eagle；　that's　it！　Many　were　the　nights；　as　you　say。'
He　held　up　his　tumbler　of　clear；　iced　spirits。
'Raise　'em　and　sink　'em　and　let's　have　another！'
I　echoed　the　old　toast　and　clinked　my　lead…crystal　of　vintage　amasec　against　his　glass。
For　a　moment；　it　was　indeed　like　the　fine　old　days。　Both　of　us；　nineteen　years　old；　full　of　piss　and　promethium；　newly　promoted
interrogators　ready　to　take　on　the　whole　damn　galaxy；　students　of　old　Inquisitor　Hapshant。　Five　years　later；　almost　simultaneously；　we
would　both　be　elected　full　inquisitors；　and　our　individual　careers　would　begin　in　earnest。
Nineteen　years　old；　drunk　on　our　feet；　carousing　in　an　armpit　of　a　bar　off　Zansiple　Street　after　hours；　mocking　our　illustrious　mentor
and　bonding　for　life；　bonding　with　that　unquestioning　exuberance　that　seems　to　me　now　only　possible　in　youth。
It　was　like　regarding　a　different　life；　so　far　away；　almost　unrecoverable。　I　was　not　that　Gregor　Eisenhorn。　And　this　man；　with　his　long；
braided　grey　hair　and　scarred　face；　sitting　in　my　sanctum　dressed　in　a　body…heat　masking　stealth　suit；　was　not　that　Titus　Endor。
'You　could　have　called；'　I　began。
'I　did。'
I　shrugged。　'You　could　have　joined　us　for　dinner　tonight。　Jarat　excelled　herself　again。'
'I　know。　But　then…'　he　paused；　and　rattled　the　ice　around　in　his　drink　thoughtfully。　'But　then；　it　might　have　become　known　that
Inquisitor　Endor　had　vis