House of Dust Read Free Page B

guardians now and he’d lost his grip on what used to be the single most powerful directorate. Public order was effectively handled by his deputy, who’d been transferred from the Welfare Directorate when her former boss became senior guardian six months back. It didn’t help that Lewis Hamilton had been caught with less than pristine hands after a major investigation in 2026. He was lucky he was still in a job, but the changes in the command centre made me wonder how long he’d keep the keys to these quarters.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “There have been no sightings of Lister 25 anywhere in the city since he vanished. I’ve collated all barracks, city line and Fisheries Guard reports.”
    Hamilton sat up. “You think he may have deserted?”
    â€œIt had to be a possibility, Lewis.”
    â€œOne of the city’s most eminent and experienced scientists?” the guardian said, having a stab at outrage himself. “Why would he—” He broke off. “You said it had to be a possibility, past tense. You mean you don’t think it realistically is one?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œFirst, there’s his record: Lister 25’s never shown any sign of disloyalty to the Council. Second, there’s the fact that he seems to have taken no personal effects with him. All his standard auxiliary-issue clothing is still in his rooms above the lab, apart from what he would have been wearing. All his lab coats are accounted for too.”
    â€œHe’d hardly have walked off wearing a white coat, would he?” Hamilton scoffed.
    I let that go. “Third, none of his work appears to be missing. All files, materials and computer disks are present. Though the disks could have been copied, of course. And fourth—”
    â€œAll right, Dalrymple, you’ve made your point.”
    I raised my hand. “This is the most convincing bit,” I said. “And fourth, he doesn’t seem to have taken any of his blues cassettes with him.”
    The guardian sank further into his chair. “What?” he asked faintly. He was looking as depressed as a headmaster presented with incontrovertible proof that his star pupil is responsible for the life-size drawings of matron on the chapel roof.
    I knew this was going to be hard for him to accept but it was what made me certain. “Look, Lewis, the old scientist is a blues freak like me. I came across his stash of Robert Johnson recordings when I was investigating the Electric Blues case in 2022.”
    The guardian stared at me dumbly.
    â€œThe thing is, he lived for his music, he used to listen to the blues every night. There’s no way he’d have walked away without at least some of his cassettes.”
    Hamilton was about to say something fierce but he held back. “Very well. The indications are that Lister 25 didn’t desert. Could he have been abducted?”
    I turned my hands up non-committally. “Doesn’t strike me as very likely. Someone would have seen him being led away. Security at the labs is tight.”
    â€œDo you know what he was working on?”
    I nodded. “He was overseeing several experiments and procedures: a tourist company complaint about the sewers under the Waverley Hotel, food poisoning in Corstorphine, something nasty in Brewery No. 1 in Fountainbridge . . .” I flicked pages again. “Oh, and something about soil contamination. He was working on that himself. None of his staff knew anything about it, but his assistant saw samples of soil at his work station. They aren’t there any more.”
    Hamilton stirred. “Soil from where?” he asked.
    â€œSome of the city farms, I suppose. Though none of them have owned up to anything out of the ordinary.” I shrugged, then put my notebook on my knee and pushed myself back in the uncomfortable chair that visitors to the guardian’s office were forced to