YOU – Wait. Am I *sure* about this?

INLAND EMPIRE – Uh … I imagine … yes?

VOLITION – You're *sure* Old Blonde was there, and you can trust Book Head. But now that you ask, something feels *a little* off. Here's what: Nothing comes to mind when you try to recall her relationship to the pussy painter in eye-catching motorbike boots. Yet, you feel that something connects them. Call it a hunch.

YOU – Push your hand into the pants pocket reserved for your Sirens, and touch them for luck. The lapis-and-bloodstone dice chatter like teeth as they shift and press warmly against the pads of your fingers. You wonder whether anyone else heard the Milton 32-8 knock.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Upstairs, in the matchbox ensuite bathroom, Satellite Officer Jean Vicquemare is taking a post-workout shower. He catches himself staring blankly down at the tiles as droplets of water collect on his eyelashes; he blinks them off, makes a conscious effort to stop ruminating about past traumas and imagining future ones. Stupid brain. He thinks he just heard a muffled thumping noise, but can't be sure because of how spaced-out he was.

In the adjacent room, Patrol Officer Judit Minot and Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi frown at the wall they share with room three. Maybe someone is *partying* next door. Anyway, they dismiss this thought as trivial, and continue settling in before collecting their notes, which is to say their thoughts, in preparation for discussing them with the co-leaders of the MCU task force. When Minot thinks of the words 'task force leader', she pictures Vicquemare; when Kitsuragi thinks of the title, his mind's eye sees Du Bois.

By the way, you should talk to your partner about Milton 32-8 first, then tell your squadmates. It's what a good partner would do.

YOU – Nod to yourself, alone at reception, and take the Daily Specials blackboard as well as a duster in a little open cardboard box full of chalk.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – Variously coloured sticks and stubs. An embarrassment of chalk riches. You like the yellow. The red looks aggressive.

SAVOIR FAIRE – Pssst. Check the manager's ledger and lift Old Blonde's first name.

AUTHORITY – You are an officer of the law. You should have commanded the manager to disclose the full name.

SAVOIR FAIRE – Nah, too much explaining, and not cool. Would have drawn unwanted attention to it.

YOU – Look around, making sure you're still alone. Then you casually lean over the reception counter, and run your gaze down the column of upside-down, loopy pencil entries till you spot a Mrs Rupert. A Mrs *Candice* Rupert. You think about this, as you carry your blackboard and paraphernalia upstairs.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – If it's a blackboard, why is it dark green? Why isn't it a darkgreenboard?

YOU – I really don't have time for this thought right now.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Oh, *excusez-moi*. Later, then, busy Detective God.

YOU - Carry your *darkgreenboard* upstairs, manoeuvring past the hostel manager standing in front of door three, and psyching herself up with a few deep breaths, before raising a manicured little fist to knock three times.

INLAND EMPIRE – Knocking rattles the little tea-things on her fingernail decals.

PERCEPTION – This is a *special* knock, too. It says, 'I am a badass of the hospitality industry.' Under the closed door of Kim and Judit's room, you see a pair of thin shadows appear, cutting across the strip of yellow light.

OLD BLONDE (CANDICE RUPERT) – "Who is it?"

THE FORKS MANAGER – "*Hostel* management. Madam … requested … *special* … uh, 'room service'?"

RHETORIC – Meaning, madam *demanded* we go *well* above and beyond the call of duty to cater to her eccentric needs.

OLD BLONDE (CANDICE RUPERT) - "Yes. Do come in, please. It's open."

YOU – Look back over your shoulder as the manager rolls her eyes up at the ceiling, huffs out a breath, then lets herself in.

THE FORKS – Through the door labelled '3', which now stands ajar, you see what is by far the most hideous wallpaper in this hostel: it's positively hostile, like an orange and yellow lava lamp overheated, then had the gall to explode all over the wall. Makes the psychedelic kaleidoscope of geometric wallpaper in your own room look tame, even a little lame. So anyway, before the door closes, at the foot of the wardrobe, you see a pair of expensive-looking shoes, polished by electric light.

YOU – Wonder whether turning them over to inspect their soles would reveal one with a Milton cameo.

VISUAL CALCULUS – Also, how could she have 'confused' your room for hers when Trant was here? Yours is south facing. Kim and Judit's, in between, can only have a westerly view with respect to the building's layout. Therefore, hers has a north-facing window, so her room is the *opposite* of yours. A mirror image.

HALF LIGHT – Because she didn't. She was fuckin' eavesdropping, trying to spy on you and your case. Eyes on you, everywhere, all the fuckin' time.

YOU – Give me a fucking break.

VOLITION – Get a grip.

YOU – But why is everything so hard *all the time*?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – I know the answer to this one! Because you work better on speed.

LOGIC – It *could* help you to *work*, literally, I mean. You could complete your thought project on Allegedly Accidental Apologia, connect it to your extremities idea, the special Milton knock. Then you could nip the magenta cocaine trafficking in the bud. Pick up another –

VOLITION – Enough! Stop thinking these idiotic thoughts about speed. They're not true.

YOU – Hey, you just sounded a bit like Jean.

VOLITION – Did I, now?

YOU – Yes. Why is that?

VOLITION – It's a coincidence. Voices sound alike. Run along with your blackboard.

THE BLACKBOARD – Precedes you into your hostel room, as you try not to scrape or bang its sides against the doorframe.

INTERFACING – Nothing to it. Easy peasy.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Peace of piss for your sturdy, manly arms.

INTERFACING – Inside, you lean the blackboard against the wall so that you can close the door. As your room key turns in the lock, you hear the door of the tiny ensuite bathroom opening behind you.

YOU – Turn around.

PERCEPTION – As your partner steps out, barefooted in black lieutenant's pants, an undone black necktie draped around the upturned white collar of his shirt, the scent of cedar, oak bark, and patchouli suffuses the damp air. He's buttoning the shirt.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Sets your GABA-receptors alight, little lightning strikes in your brain as axons sizzle with action potentials.

YOU – "Behold, a blackboard."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Yeah, I can see that. It's kind of a bit like you, a month ago: a blank slate."

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Thank you for reminding us.

YOU – "It's not as big as ours in C-Wing, but we'll still be able to brain-storm our two cases into a stereo-investigation."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Asks dryly, "Are we still discussing blackboards, Harry?"

YOU – Smile. "Okay, that did sound a bit porny."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Stops buttoning his shirt halfway up, as he looks at the blackboard, then at you again. "Actually – does the manager know you *borrowed* it?"

AUTHORITY – Do *not* answer that question; it is beneath you, lieutenant double-yefreitor.

PAIN THRESHOLD – A slight sting, a certain satisfaction. Bring it on – your threshold is super-high.

YOU – "What, you think I yoinked it – like you with that so-called *hobo mustard*?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Provides no response, but flicks up an eyebrow for a second.

SUGGESTION – Answering *is* beneath you, but speak softly, divert his attention to more important matters, such as the Milton 32-8 knock.

EMPATHY – He's tired. It's been a long day. For both of you.

YOU – Yeah, but I'm not being an asshole.

EMPATHY – He started covering for you *well* before your little breakdown in Martinaise; he's become accustomed to double-checking everything, which he does not enjoy doing. Would you?

PAIN THRESHOLD – And he's suffering even more so than usual from clinical depression.

YOU – Walk up to your partner, push your hand under the crisp cotton of his shirt, slide it up his chest, over his pectoral muscle.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Closes his eyes for a moment.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – He's really fuckin' ripped.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) – His skin is still radiating warmth from the shower. Must have taken a hot one.

ENDURANCE – He can't stand cold ones.

VOLITION – Concentrate. You're back on duty. You have a stereo-investigation to put together.

YOU – Look him in the eye. "I'm ready to lead again – take on my full leadership role, I mean. Make things easier for you."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Looks at you inquisitively. "Okay," a slow nod. A pause. "Yeah, I can see you've been trying really, really hard to take some responsibilities off my shoulders, haven't you?"

RHETORIC – He says this without a trace of sarcasm, but ...

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Like when you discussed Lieutenant Kitsuragi's concerns with him," he says, nodding with fake enthusiasm.

EMPATHY – Oh. *Oh*. Lieutenant Kitsuragi's arrival reminded him of how you're still harbouring your temporary partner's *concerns*. Probably also how the two of you got along really well without him. How you *bewitched* the fifty-seventh's finest.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Inspects you, comes to some conclusion, then takes a half-step closer, sandwiching your arm between his chest and yours. "I misphrased my question," he says. You feel his hands rest on your ass. Warm exhalations against the corner of your mouth. "I didn't mean to suggest you 'yoinked' the blackboard …" His hands caress your ass, and fingers slip down into the back pocket of your pants. "You realize that, right?"

DRAMA – I'm quite sure that *is* what was implied, sire. But perhaps 'twas truly *misphrased*?

VOLITION – Jean has turned up his Heavy Duty Drama mode; you cannot trust the thespian right now. The best you can do is just play along.

DRAMA – Listen not to that crown-headed bull's pizzle, my liege!

YOU – Frown. "Sure, Vic."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "What are the lieutenant's concerns, by the way?"

YOU – Shake your head. "That isn't important right now," you say impatiently. "I've –"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Whatever. I don't really care."

EMPATHY – He really doesn't. And yet, at the same time, he really does.

PAIN THRESHOLD – A fresh wave of sadness washes through him. You feel it lap at you, too. It's cold.

PERCEPTION – You feel his warm breath against your skin as he exhales slowly.

HALF LIGHT – Like when he's *calming himself*. Are you paying attention to the cues here?

EMPATHY – Cognitive dissonance. He's fighting himself, not you.

VOLITION – Relax.

INTERFACING – In your back pocket, his fingers grab at something, then pull it out and up to the light for inspection.

YOU – "Hey!"

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – In his hand is the letter he left in your new ledger when he gave you the sprig of forget-me-nots.

YOU – Freeze, feel a hot flush spreading up your neck to your face for the second time tonight, as he unfolds the letter one-handed to scan it.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Oh." He seems taken aback.

INTERFACING – He folds up the letter again, slips it back into your pocket, and gives your ass a couple of quick pats.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Your ass is cast iron.

PERCEPTION (TOUCH) – His hand lingers. Somehow, you're even *more* aware of it now.

YOU – Clear your throat, fix your eyes onto his. "Satisfied? Listen. What matters, what I'm *trying* to tell you, is I know what Milton 32-8 is. Boom shakalaka."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Okay," he says slowly. "You remembered something more …?"

YOU – "Yes, which is why I have a hunch that the possibly Vaasan cougar in room three is somehow connected to the case. She was trying to eavesdrop on us when Trant arrived – mistook our room for hers, my ass."

HALF LIGHT – Still, that could have been dangerous. And she could try to eavesdrop again, and succeed. It's scary.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Sighs. "*Possibly Vaasan cougar*. Perfect. Great." He nods along, takes a step back away from you, and buttons up his shirt the rest of the way.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – C'mon, man – you lost the hand! Your ass is hands-free.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Anything else?"

YOU – "Uh," you sweep your hair back with your fingers, "I need a haircut."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Glances at you unkempt hair. "What is Milton 32-8, how do you know, and why do you think it's connected to the guest in room three?"

YOU – "Right. It's a special knock used by ultraliberals like a secret handshake. I heard the guest in room three, who's staying under the name of Mrs Candice Rupert, by the way, use it."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Oh, I thought I heard …"

PERCEPTION – He heard that even in the shower. I keep telling you his perception's through the fuckin' roof.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Okay, but how do you know it's her?"

YOU – "The manager," you answer, impatiently waving away the question. "So, anyway, then I *remembered* how I know what it means: a painter at the Académie des Arts, a young man, student-age, was showing off about it. Candice Rupert, if that is her real name, was there, too, at the exhibition. Years ago – in another life."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Thinks. "Okay, well, do you think she picked up the knock from the painter, like you, or did she already know it, like him?"

INLAND EMPIRE – Good question! Why didn't we think of that?

You watch the flower painter in the eye-catching motor bike boots bragging about the knock. Then a considerably younger version of a possibly Vaasan cougar traipses between you, trailing apricot-flavoured cigarette smoke, which she blows in the young painter's face. "Antony Junior," she says, "stop being a brat." Noticing you and the welkin, she gives a lemony smile, and adds, "Children, honestly", then melts into the rest of the ultra art crowd, already forgetting your existence.

YOU – "Vic," you squeeze his upper arms for a second, "you're the best."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Me? Why, yes." A sarcastic nod. "Yes, I am. But what makes you think I am?"

YOU – "She knew the knock already. She said to him, 'Antony Junior, stop being a brat'. She might be his mother … Antony Junior … Antony Paints …"

INLAND EMPIRE – What if the painter is the secret member of Belles Lettres?

YOU – I'm not saying that, there's no evidence ...

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Okay, well, we potentially have three names now."

REACTION SPEED – Hey, you. Aren't you forgetting something?

YOU – What?

REACTION SPEED – She *taught* at an East Revacholian university – maybe the Académie? And what did she teach?

YOU – "*Oh*, yes."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "*Again*?"

YOU – "If she's telling the truth, she taught a class called 'Commodifying Culture' – in her own words, 'low art meets high marketing'. Like our murals."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Yeah, sort of. I get it. Okay, it's worth looking into."

VOLITION – This is good. It has a calming effect on you.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – It fits your extremities idea.

YOU – "This fits my extremities idea."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Your … *extremities*?" His grey eyes gleam suddenly.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – There's a knock at the door, another special one, thudding to the repressed yet authoritative rhythm of Lieutenant Kitsuragi.

YOU – "That's Kim's knock."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Of course," he says bitterly. "Of course it is."

EMPATHY – He is no longer cognitively dissonant. He's made up his mind about you not entrusting him with Kim's concerns, and has decided to take it personally.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Because the glass-is-half-empty. Always.

YOU – "Wait." You take a half-step closer, lower your voice. "Have I wronged you somehow? *Recently*, I mean."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Spreads his arms and shrugs. "Well, that depends: define *wronged*."

ESPRIT DE CORPS – Secrets between partners cause mistrust, he thinks, and mistrust costs us our lives.

HALF LIGHT – You feel shaky.

YOU – Move closer …

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] – … take hold of both ends of the undone black tie hanging around his neck, and tie a four-in-hand knot.

PERCEPTION – Black and silky, sliding through your fingers.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Bites his lip, looks away, holding something back.

YOU – Adjust the collar of his perfectly pressed shirt, running your fingertips down the front. "We'll talk – after the meeting – about whatever you want. No secrets between partners. Okay?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Looks at you, adjusts his tie. "Okay." He takes a breath. "*Partner*."

YOU – Turn towards the door.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Harry."

YOU – Look back at him.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "And I'll want to know all about your extremities."

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – And party like it's '31.

YOU – Flash a smile.

THE LEDGER – In a rundown hostel on the south-west tributary of the River Esperance, in a psychedelic room with a bridge view, four officers of the RCM huddle around a table strewn with maps, drawings, instant colour photos of the Antony factory crime scene.

You and JV explain the new situation with Old Blonde (Mrs Candice Rupert?) to Lieutenant KK and Patrol Officer JM. The four of you decide that the suspect is not a flight risk. Yet. KK stresses that no paperwork or evidence should be left unguarded in either of your hostel rooms. Everyone agrees. JV takes no chances where the possibility of the suspect eavesdropping is concerned, ordering JM to "man the door". Then he leaves to radio your station from the Coupris 40, catching Communications Officer JP just as he's about to head home for the night.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – In the cabin of the armoured motor-carriage, Satellite Officer Jean Vicquemare peers through the windshield up at the glowing windows of the hostel, lights a cigarette, and tells Communications Officer Jules Pidieu that he needs to know whether Antony Paints was co-owned by one Antony Rupert, and whether Industrial Paints or Isola-Tux are co-owned by an Antony *Junior* Rupert. "Perhaps," says Vicquemare, "it'll be easier to obtain the name of the holding company owner from the ICP if you already have it, because then it's just a factual *confirmation*."

The communications officer concurs, adding the names Antony Rupert, Antony Rupert Junior, and Mrs Candice Rupert to his To Do.

Vicquemare presses a button on the radio microphone "We also need to check whether Candice Rupert taught or teaches a class called *Commodifying Culture* at the Académie des Arts. If not, you'll need to check at every East Revacholian university."

The communications officer assures Vicquemare he's happy to be of assistance, and asks him to call back tomorrow after midday.

"Hold up, Jules," Vicquemare says into the radio microphone.

"Sir?"

Lost in unhappy thoughts, Vicquemare takes a deep drag on his cigarette, rubs and massages his temples, then exhales the smoke from his lungs in a long sigh. "Pull the plug on Mack and Chester's infiltration." He closes his eyes and taps on his forehead. "I don't *want* to, but I *have* to. We need them here as soon as possible. Anyway, Trant's latest report on the radio instigator cells is *not* good – too risky to keep *that* dynamic duo there a moment longer."

Jules answers in the affirmative, and adds that he will "10-22 the captain."

THE LEDGER – While JV is out communicating with your station, you create a makeshift little operations area in your guarded hostel room, dragging the blackboard over to the round table, and kicking out its stand, placing the box of chalks and duster nearby. As KK takes a seat, you push aside some paperwork to sit on the table, leaving the other chair free for your partner.

YOU – "Vic and I heard you were delayed?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Nods. "We were about to head down here, but decided to do call duty after the emergency desk received a series of complaints that sounded relevant to our current investigation: sounds of *heavy* gunfire coming from your *bloc obscure* in Central Jamrock."

YOU – "Uh, *my* bloc …?"

KIM KITSURAGI – "The collapsing tenement you evacuated and closed off? Patrol Officer Minot told me about it."

YOU – "Oh, that. I've read the files – I was very thorough in documenting that case. That building is *definitely* coming down. *Soon*."

VISUAL CALCULUS – Definitely.

KIM KITSURAGI – Nods. "It *is*."

YOU – Feel a moment of small relief, but then you remember that people keep moving back. At least forty the last time you checked – almost a quarter of the original two-hundred occupants.

SHIVERS – A frisson horripilates the hairs on your arms.

YOU – Rub your forearms up and down through your jacket and shirt sleeves, creating warm friction.

KIM KITSURAGI – "We encountered a *sinkhole* inside" – his eyes widen, seeing it again in his mind – "caused by a collapsed part of the sewer system below. I didn't take building safety, but this could be the cause of the crack you noticed – the change in ground level below shifting the foundations?"

YOU – Nod.

KIM KITSURAGI – "By the time Patrol Officer Minot and I arrived, the gunfight was over. No bodies, no witnesses – of course. Blood on the floor. We picked up several casings and dug some bullets out of the walls" He looks worried. "Revolution weapons – which means we've missed some."

EMPATHY – He tries not to think about how bad it could get on the streets.

YOU – "We found a pile of your antiques today. Here, let me show you ..."

THE LEDGER – Unfolding the crinkly Burnt Out Quarter map over the table, you point out and explain JV's red and blue wax pencil extrapolations to KK, who follows the lines with his dark eyes. Then you take a fresh piece of yellow chalk out of the box, and bullet-point the connections between your cases on the blackboard. You pocket the chalk.

YOU – I steal it?

THE LEDGER – No, you borrow it without telling anyone. Cops do that. Anyway, when you get to KDR's hand-drawn map, and tell Cuno's story, KK looks genuinely shocked.

YOU – Nod, enjoying his reaction. "Yeah – Cuno's gonna be a cop."

KIM KITSURAGI – "God spare us …"

YOU – "He'll be a good detective, Kim. Of course, in his head, he already is one."

ESPRIT DE CORPS – No, in his *blue soul* …

North in Jamrock, where a brighter evening light slants in through the windows of the RCM cop school, future junior officer Kuuno de Ruyter, or *Detective Cuno* as he imagines himself, lies awake in his bunk bed, staring up at the ceiling of the men's wing. Below, a fellow boarder with nowhere else to call home during the spring break softly snores. But Cuno is too excited to sleep.

And it's not because he's on speed. Hasn't even seen that shit for a month. But he isn't sad anymore without it because, for the first time in his life, he doesn't have to worry about basic necessities like money, food, clothing, so he's *really* free to make Cuno into *anything*, into a *detective*. Also, he isn't locked in a tiny room with a violent dad.

He wonders how Necromancer Cop and his Wizard Cop partner, packing fire and healing crap, are doing down in the Burnt Out Quarter. Cuno's *cops*. He cannot wait for them to return to Jamrock so that he can start working at the station. Of course, he's gonna play it cool because Cuno's cold like that. But he cannot fucking wait. They actually let him in.

Meantime, several kilometres south, Wizard Cop finishes his cigarette in the dark and quiet of the Coupris 40's cabin, and thinks about the case, thinks about his eventful day with Necromancer Cop, before heading back into the Forks hostel for the night.

YOU – Catch sight of yourself in the mirror, and reflect.

THE MIRROR – A LAKE OF REFLECTIONS IN A ROOM ...

CONCEPTUALIZATION – You know this one: 'Reality as a thing seen by the mind'.

YOU – Seen or perceived? "'Everything as unreal as real can be,'" you murmur.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) – Well, your mind sees that the reality of your hair is so unkempt it's unreal. Swept-back by nothing more than your hand. Hanging over the collar of your jacket. Why don't you use some wax or cement or something?

KIM KITSURAGI – "Is everything okay, lieutenant-yefreitor?"

YOU – Brush your fingers through your hair, trying to make it slicker, tamer.

ENDURANCE – If you keep that up, all you'll succeed at is making it oilier.

YOU – Look at Kim. "I need a haircut."

AUTHORITY – You needed one a month ago.

KIM KITSURAGI – "Oh." He nods. "You really do. I am glad to hear you say that." The lieutenant smooths back the black top of his undercut, making sure that not a single waxed hair is out of place.

AUTHORITY – See?

YOU – "I might do a swept-back taper. Or keep it classic – like the photo on my badge. What do you think, Kim?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Beckons. "Show me your badge again."

INTERFACING – You unclip it from your jacket pocket, hand it over. When taking it, the lieutenant is careful to ensure that no part of his gloved hand touches yours.

KIM KITSURAGI – Studies the photo on the blue plastic card, then smiles suddenly. "Nice goatee, by the way. Goes with the burns."

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Thank you for the compliment.

KIM KITSURAGI – His fingers drum the tabletop thoughtfully. "Were I to *attempt* to apply your method of analysis, I would conclude that this little goatee is the *opposite* of the chops you shaved off in Martinaise, and so this hairstyle" – he gestures at your badge – "is too?"

YOU – Ponder the implications of his re-conceptualization.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Because the chops that got the chop were the negative space of the goatee. That's an *interesting* observation. The chops represent the drunk and druggie you, crossing lines, shirking responsibilities. The burns represent the opposite: the committed partner, RCM detective, MCU task force leader.

YOU – It was just a chin-dusting, not a full goatee like Jean's. I think you're reading too much into my facial-hair choices.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Whatever.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – Outside your psychedelic hostel room, on the other side of the door, you hear muffled conversation: Jean's low, dry voice and Judit's quiet, dignified one. Then the lock turns and the door opens.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Steps inside, and sees Kim handing you back your badge as he strides over.

INLAND EMPIRE – Jean has a certain *je ne sais quoi*.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – An animal magnetism. Enjoy the view. He's already promised you a dirty disco dance.

YOU – But Kim is here. If I enjoy the view, he'll notice.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Notes the points on the blackboard by the table, the unfolded map of The Burnt Out Quarter, and Cuno's map, on top of all the other investigation paraphernalia.

YOU – Meet Jean's eyes, and nod at the empty chair. "I saved you a seat."

KIM KITSURAGI – You think you detect the quiver of a crooked smile on his face, but it's gone so fast ...

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Thanks, but you take it. The cafeteria is closed till six-thirty," he rolls his eyes, "so I'm making coffee. Who wants one?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Shakes his head. "Mkm. I would not sleep all night."

YOU – "Count me in."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Already did, Harry," he says, walking over to a little tea-and-coffee corner near the bathroom, where a dusty black kettle sits beside a bowl of teabags and instant coffee sachets.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) – You hear him washing out and filling the kettle with water in the bathroom sink as he mumbles to himself:

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Instant coffee. This is going to be *great*. Just great."

YOU – Smile fondly on the inside. Feel it spark in your eyes.

KIM KITSURAGI – Again, you think you see him struggling to straighten out a smile, but you can't say for certain, such is the power of his composure.

PERCEPTION – You hear the kettle boil. A spoon clinks against a cup. The scent of instant coffee fills the tiny hostel room. It's actually not bad.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Takes a steaming cup outside for Judit, then returns, hands you a cup, and insists again that you take the seat.

YOU – Slide off the table's edge, pull out the cheap pine chair, and sit across from Kim.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – With an agitated gait, he paces back and forth. "The 'Commodifying Culture' class you mentioned, Harry. I want to know more about *that*. What were her exact words?"

YOU – "Uh ..." You raise your eyebrows and snap your fingers as the right sequence of neurons fires in your brain, transmitting the information: "A high-concept class, East Revacholian university. Low art meets high marketing. Poetry meets economics. I asked whether it's like the murals."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Nods. "You already said."

YOU – "She replied that things like our murals usually happen in threes."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Did she, now?" He stops pacing to blow softly on the vapour rising from his cup, but does not take a sip. "But she also dodged the question, and you let her …"

VOLITION [Medium: Failure] – …

YOU – "She wasn't a suspect at the time."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Well, we've completed the first phase of our case: we've got the paint, and the antique weapons, on site at the Antony factory. We've also got the so-called book-keeper's ledger, and the belletrists' ledger plus their confessions …"

KIM KITSURAGI – "Do we need to plug any leaks, detectives?"

YOU – Look at Kim. "The perp can't deflect the blame by bluffing that someone else is using the site, because of the paint, and the evidence in that ledger" – nod at the evidence bag on the table, wrapped around the ledger from the foreman's office – "which also ties them to the guns, and the magenta cocaine. By the way, you and Judit might get something from that ledger – for the guns."

KIM KITSURAGI – Bows his head in response.

YOU – Look back at your partner. "So we could pile all that on for a confession."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Agreed, Harry. Together with the Belles Lettres ledger and confessions, it's solid enough. And this Commodifying Culture shit could maybe point us to the motive – *if* the name checks out. If it doesn't check out …" He shakes his head.

INLAND EMPIRE – It'll check out. Somehow, you just *know* it will.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Think the Belles Lettres could be considered an off-shoot of this whole *poetry meets economics* concept – at least in theory if not in actual execution?" He draws a quick breath, and can't seem to help adding, "Because the execution is complete shit."

YOU – Lean forward in your seat, closer to him, looking up into his tired eyes. "I've been on a similar line of thought – I mentioned it to the captain. Wanna hear it?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Talk to me, superstar."

RHETORIC – No sarcasm detected.

EMPATHY – He says it with *affection*.

YOU – Are you sure?

EMPATHY – 1000000%.

KIM KITSURAGI – Unzips his orange bomber, takes out his blue A6 Mnemotechnique and a pen, and jots something down.

YOU – "Okay. So …"

INLAND EMPIRE – The fishing village in Martinaise is where you had your first idea about extremities.

YOU – "So, I had this thought back in Martinaise …"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Arches an eyebrow like a flick knife opening. Lifts an index finger. "Just to clarify, you didn't, like, *see into the future*, or something, did you?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Raises an eyebrow, too – at the pages of his notebook, which he lifts in front of his face.

INLAND EMPIRE – The ultra-hobo – Rosemary – made you see into the future. Because without his comment on 'amphetamines', you wouldn't have had your thought about how the ultra-poor and filthy-rich are below and above the radar of the law.

AUTHORITY – No one is above or below *the law*.

INLAND EMPIRE – And without that thought, you wouldn't have thought that the Commodifying Culture class marries those extremities, or that Cuno's observation of the ultras and Skulls forming a secret coalition does the same thing.

SUGGESTION – But give them the *boring* explanation. It's what they want to hear.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Boring, boring, *boring*.

YOU – "No, I didn't see into the fucking future."

HALF LIGHT – That time.

YOU – "This isn't a product of *delirium tremens*."

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Or anything else fun. Because you're an incredibly boring fuck.

YOU – "You wanna hear it or not?"

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Sighs. "Okay, I want to hear it. I really want to hear it."

YOU – Stand up, take out your yellow stick of chalk, and draw a dead smiley face with a full beard. "It's like the difference between mutton chops" – you rub off the facial hair on the chin with your fingers - "and a goatee". Then you colour-in the chin again, and rub off the chops. "One is the negative space of the other."

KIM KITSURAGI – Mutters something that sounds like "All this from a talk on haircuts."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "Okay," he says, with a slow nod.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – If you still had your mutton chops, kissing Jean would be like jigsaw puzzle pieces fitting together, his goatee between your chops, every time.

INLAND EMPIRE – It still is. Every time.

CONCEPTUALIZATION – Is that why you wore the chops?

YOU – Realize that you're gazing at your partner's goatee and mouth, and that he has noticed, and is staring at you. You blink, take a tentative sip of scalding coffee, and look back at the dead smiley face. "Now, if Cuno is correct, if the ultras and Skulls have joined forces" – you point your stub of yellow chalk at the smiley face – "then the facial hair represents them, and the negative space represents the bourgeois."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "*Sure*, cool. But what you're giving us is not evidence, it's not proof, Harry. It's assumptions. So let's wait till tomorrow. We won't know whether Cuno is right until we enter those tunnels, *and* we won't know about the guest till we get Jules's confirmation." He squints. "Or are you seeing into the future again?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Scribbles away in his notebook, hyper-focused on the task.

ESPRIT DE CORPS – The lieutenant would prefer not to get in the middle of an *exchange* between partners. It's not his style.

YOU – "I guess we'll find out soon. My theory is this: the tentative motive behind the murals, the aero-graffito, and the guns, is that our ideologue wants to oust the middle class. Why? Because the status quo is content with Coalition control, and our ultra-ideologue wants to collapse the free market."

KIM KITSURAGI – "Le Retour," he says quietly, lowering his notebook, closing it softly, easing the blue rubber band over the cover to secure it.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Rubs his facial hair. "Oh, god, fucking politics again." Sighs, and stares grimly through the window at the abysmal dark outside.

KIM KITSURAGI – Lights his cigarette of the day, drawing the smoke thickly into his lungs before releasing it in one long sigh, filling the tiny hostel room with the smell of chestnuts.

YOU – "It also explains the concerns in Trant's reports, Mack and Chester's case, everything."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Looks back at you. "Oh, really, it explains *everything*? Then it's too neat."

KIM KITSURAGI – "Detectives," he says softly, "we have covered *a lot* of ground tonight." He stands up. "I would like to make sure that my partner is aware of the main points before bed – and it is well past my bedtime."

JEAN VICQUEMARE – "You're right, Lieutenant Kitsuragi. That's it. We're not talking about this anymore."

YOU – Catch Jean's eye. "It's almost past our bedtime, too. Right, *partner*?"

KIM KITSURAGI – Does not flinch. He does not flinch at all.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY – Maybe you're not an incredibly boring fuck after all.

JEAN VICQUEMARE – Glances at the lieutenant's lithic face, then gives you *a look*. "*Almost*." He points at you with one hand, takes a sip of coffee with the other, then adds, "We're still talking."