Weaveworld

3

The haloes had faded by the time the officers threw open the back of the Black Maria, and ordered Suzanna and Jerichau out into the yard of Hobart’s headquarters. All that was left of the vision she’d shared with Jerichau and Apolline was vague nausea and an aching skull.

They were taken into the bleak concrete building and separated; their belongings were taken from them. Suzanna had nothing she cared much about but Mimi’s book, which she’d kept in either hand or pocket since finding it. Though she protested at its confiscation, it too was taken from her.

There was a brief exchange between the arresting officers as to where she was to be lodged, then she was escorted down a flight of stairs to a bare interrogation cell somewhere in the bowels of the building. Here an officer filled in a form of her personal details. She answered his questions as best she could, but her thoughts kept drifting off: to Cal, to Jerichau, and to the carpet. If things had looked bad at dawn they looked a good deal worse now. She told herself to cross each bridge as she came to it, and not fret uselessly about matters she could do nothing to influence. Her first priority was to get herself and Jerichau out of custody. She’d seen his fear and desperation when they were separated. He would be easy meat if anyone chose to get rough with him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. A pale man in a charcoal-grey suit was staring at her. He looked not to have slept in a long while.

‘Thank you, Stillman,’ he said. The interviewing officer vacated the chair opposite Suzanna. ‘Wait outside, would you?’

The man withdrew. The door slammed.

‘I’m Hobart,’ the newcomer announced. ‘Inspector Hobart. We have some talking to do.’

She could no longer see even the merest shadow of a halo, but she knew, even before he sat down in front of her, the colour of this man’s soul. It gave her no comfort.