House of Dust Read Free Page A

Dalrymple,” he said sotto voce. “Ah, Raeburn 124, everything in hand?” He was trying to sound like he was in command but I didn’t buy it. Neither did his deputy.
    â€œOh yes, guardian,” she said, a tight smile cutting across her fleshy face. “Everything is very much in hand.” Raeburn 124 – known throughout the City Guard as “the Mist” both because she’d appeared out of the blue at the top of the directorate tree and because she came down everywhere to put a serious dampener on things – glanced at me with ill-disguised disapproval. “Citizen Dalrymple,” she said, aiming her small eyes at a point several inches to the left of me. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
    I smiled malevolently. “I’ve no idea what gets you going, but I own up to whisky and the blues.”
    The deputy guardian moved her eyes off me and tried not to spit. She had a reputation among her subordinates for enforcing standards of discipline that Stalin would have been proud of. I was an independent operator – inasmuch as such a being exists in Enlightenment Edinburgh – so she couldn’t lay down the law to me. I got the feeling that kept her awake at night.
    â€œI don’t imagine we’ll be continuing this diverting exchange at the reception tonight, citizen,” the Mist said, smoothing down her mousy hair. She was in charge of the Corrections Department within the directorate and had been overseeing the implementation of the Council’s incarceration policy, as well as the refurbishment of the prison building. “Your opposition to imprisonment is on record.”
    I registered the snub. “That’s why you sent me an invite, no doubt.” I shifted my upper body into the line of her gaze. “Thanks very much. I’m looking forward to the event.” Raeburn 124’s face was impassive, but I could see that her fingertips were jammed into the palms of her hands. “And to the inauguration of the New Bridewell facility the day after tomorrow.”
    â€œYou’ll be very welcome at both,” she said, the thin smile on her lips again. “Make sure you don’t get locked up in the Bridewell in the meantime.” She nodded to Hamilton. “Guardian.”
    He watched her lumber across to the computer bank. “Bloody woman,” he muttered. “She’ll be the ruin of this directorate.” He turned to the door. “Come on, man,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ve got a report to make.”
    I followed him into the courtyard. It was a close call whether the guardian or his deputy was the bigger pain to deal with.
    â€œAll right, let’s hear it,” Lewis said impatiently. He was sitting at his desk in his quarters in what used to be the Governor’s House, the creases in his guard uniform sharper than a butcher’s knife. “Where’s that bloody chemist got to?”
    I made a show of pulling out my notebook and flicking through its pages, even though I didn’t have a lot to say.
    â€œYou haven’t got anywhere, have you?” the guardian said with unusual perspicacity.
    â€œEm, no, not really,” I said, putting my notes down. “Lister 25 was last seen by his staff in the laboratories in King’s Buildings twelve days ago, on 25 March. I’ve interviewed all of them and no one seems to have noticed anything unusual in his behaviour leading up to his disappearance.” I shrugged. “Of course, being chief toxicologist he had plenty on his plate, especially considering the quality of food served up to ordinary citizens—”
    â€œSpare me the social outrage, Dalrymple,” Hamilton said, his shoulders slumping.
    In the past I would have laid on some more ironic observations, but baiting him wasn’t what it used to be. The fact was that Lewis was yesterday’s man. The Council was full of young, go-ahead