Alan returned as Eric gathered up his notes.

"Eric, I have good news. The Print Shop is printing a new edition of my Field Guide to Demons, for the general population of Reapers. They sent me to Auditing for an explanation of copyright and royalties."

"Aye, it's a valuable resource. It's good to make it available to everyone. Which also means if the Academy publishes its own edition they'll get nailed for plagiarism, right?"

"Yes. Even if they credit a censored version to the professor who bowdlerizes it. Like, 'based on notes by that semi-literate field hand, Reaper Umbees. Edited and corrected by that noble pedant, Respected Academician With Tenure and Without an Original Thought or Practical Experience Since Noah Gave Up Sea Travel, Professor Strabismus Stultus Fogy-Mossbrain'. Oh, stop laughing. They are perfectly capable of doing just that if their Legal Department doesn't catch them at it."

Eric moderated his cackles to a chuckle. "Aye, they would. Hope they try. It would make DePoy's whole year. Mine too. They'll be expecting you to make a written complaint they can pigeonhole. I can just see their faces when their Legal Team—all one of him—informs them they're named in a lawsuit from the London Branch Auditors."

"Revision was my main worry, actually, more than having it suppressed. I really don't want it rewritten by a conservative hack who has never left the Academy since his final exam. Mythology presented as facts. Imagine insisting that a bat demon has ichor instead of blood, when any cave or mineshaft Reaper knows better. Both Supplies and Auditing were giggling about that. If the Academy wants to use the book they'll have to buy the uncut version from London. It's a huge relief."

"Can ye make them let ye use it for yer own classes?"

Alan sobered. "I can't make them provide it with the other class materials. But they can't make me stop handing it out to my students free of charge; not unless they want to risk a public discussion that might cost them dearly. It won't be an issue until the Academy resumes its full-time schedules in 1920. By then, someone else may be teaching those classes. In which case, not my problem."

"And the Print Shop will pay ye?"

"They already have. Avram sold most of the extras from the first edition. It paid off my debt to them for the first printing. They say they'll send me some of the new ones to give away. I asked them to pay a bonus to the Admin who did the artwork, too, and they agreed. They have a pre-order from Cambridge already."

"What's the Branch's share of this arrangement?"

"The profits will be divided between Supplies and Collections, which pleases Will no end. He was downright pleasant this morning. I'll get a small royalty for each book sold. Dorrie says it's a sweet deal for London. She'll renegotiate once we've built up a demand from other Academies. Someday I want to write another Guide on the deep-water fiends that do battle with Maritime."

"Congratulations, me Light. Ye'll have money coming in."

"Oh, not really. If I get anything, it'll probably be just enough to buy you a drink. I'll drop the change into Op's petty cash drawer. We cleaned it out to finance ffoulkes' search for Evan Mountjoy, poor man. I like Evan, and I liked Nicholas Kendall. We've claimed Nick's body for burial in our own cemetery. That might be a problem. Amritsar's being a little evasive on the subject. Still no word from Singh or ffoulkes."

"Och, Mountjoy will be found. He may even get past his shock and return on his own. It happens. Don't fret, me Light. He'll be noticeable as a foreigner, so he'll leave a trail that Parkash and the Indian Junior can follow. Gorman has the scythes tracker. Effie's smart enough to let the experts take the lead while he guards their backs."

"A trail that the locals should have already followed," said Alan. "Too busy, I guess. They can't leave their Lists, which must be overwhelming."

"Aye, nae doot. Stay by, they'll be back soon."

The problem was immediately noticed in Scythes, of course, whose tracking mechanisms were the best in the Realm.

"Senior Johns, have you a moment? This is very worrying. There has been a sudden handover of equipment; a scythe, an Angel blade and a mobile tracking device. All are registered to Junior Gorman. He's in India on special assignment, hunting a lost Londoner. The equipment has not changed location, but the possessor is not Gorman. May we ask supplies if they can track his uniform? It's probably too far away, but we can try boosting their signal. And his glasses, if the Monitors can spare someone to search. But the glasses won't tell us whose face they're on."

"But it will tell us if the glasses are in the same location as our equipment. Thank you, Saunders. The Reapers working with Gorman are Ephraim ffoulkes and Parkash Singh. Ping their scythes. I think you'll find they are together. Monitor them all and record their movements."

Johns called Senior Richards of Supplies. "Marge, we have a problem. May we borrow your best tracker? There's an anomalous Reaper working far out of your normal tracking range…India, northwest end… we can boost your signal...really? Congratulations on getting that done. One of ours, Junior Scythes Agent Gorman, is working with Londoners named ffoulkes and Parkash to find a missing man. Our equipment is reporting that the person holding it is not the person to whom it was issued… Well, of course we do. Think of the alternatives if our blades fall into demonic or human hands…Thanks. Please tell me what you find."

Spectacles was a little less helpful. "Quite out of our range. We've been working on extending it, but really, only to the limits of the country. We transmit our codes to the cities the Londoners are posted to, but it's up to them to track them. India? Yes. ffoulkes? Too recent, hasn't been requested yet. Well, if he's only visiting…And we weren't notified about Gorman either, so really not our…yes, sir, at once, but it could take a week for the locals to get around to adding it to their system, and we have no control over that. Now if you have anyone else in the area who wears London glasses with the tracking feature, of course they could pick up… oh, about a mile, perhaps, unless you're talking about an upper manager..."

Johns carefully disconnected the call before he began swearing. After a short philippic and a long breath, he dialed again. "Saunders. Is Gorman's tracker still with the rest of his equipment? Good, and is the rest of his equipment continuing in close formation with that of Parkash and ffoulkes? Right. Get me an engineer. One of the more practical ones. Smithfield by preference, and tell him I want his expertise over here right now. Code Four."

The phone rang. It was Senior Richards.

"Joe, we have tracked Mr. ffoulkes and Mr. Prakash. Whoever is with them is not wearing young Gorman's uniform. We can't track this third person, so the uniform is counterfeit and covered by a detailed glamour with a don't-look-too-closely component. Gorman's uniform, I regret to say, has been destroyed. If he is still alive, he might have been stripped and dumped into the Human Realm. I could begin a search, but I don't want to disrupt other searches already in progress. May we consult with Collections?"

"Yes, at once, and I think in person. D'you think Gorman's been replaced by a demon?"

"I suppose they might have found a way to suppress the smell of brimstone. More likely to be a Reaper in demonic employ, though. In which case, there's probably a gang of demons planning to rush the Portal when the rescue party comes home. Supplies sees a lot of that. Let me call Spears. Exposure to Madame has taught him to be marginally more courteous to females than to other males. You call Humphries and ask him to put their Security on alert. Then a meeting in Spears' office."

Fortunately Duncan and Mallory were both in the area. Alan called them into Spears' office, where Richards and Johns told them what they suspected.

"Definitely a rogue Reaper," said Duncan. "Even upset about his Mentor, concentrating on the hunt, effie'd never miss a demon substitution. But Gorman is a perfect stranger and was likely replaced fairly early in the search. The tracker gadget is obviously easy to use. The rogue is actively helping with the hunt, so I think we can assume he wants to stay with the team and return here with them. Not to go much farther than the War Room, though. He probably doesn't know London Ops and definitely doesn't know Scythes. His act won't last long among people who know Gorman."

"Perhaps he applied to work here and got as far as a site visit before being rejected," offered Alan. "He might be familiar with the Operations layout, especially Personnel. Could he be hoping to be met by a Scythes superior who's not very familiar with Gorman? One who might lead him back into their area? Could he have a contact there?"

"Possibly. We do know that a demonic contract has been issued for Smithfield," said Johns. "Not the same department of the Division, but he mightn't know that. After all, he's obviously unaware that we'd know the minute the scythes and tracker changed ownership, especially all together as a unit."

"I think we're looking at a portal invasion," Mallory said. "We should prepare for one, at any rate; get the noncombatants safely out of the way, activate the defense systems. Pull in every able defender we can, be ready to look unthreatening as soon as ffoulkes asks to return. Should be within the next hour or so if Scythes' tracking is involved. The impostor will let our folks come through with anyone injured. He'll lag behind, pretending to cover their retreat, but actually delaying the closing of the portal. The demons will rush around him and carry him through."

"We want to nail the imposter immediately," said Johns, "disarming him, cancelling his access to his own scythes. He must not port away or run back through the portal."

Duncan smiled. "Then we send the demons into our traps. Maybe warn the Angels so they don't come blundering in and make it worse."

"Or get one or two here under glamours," suggested Richards. "If they lay a finger on our rogue, he'll have to answer any question with perfect truth. Supplies has done that before, and you'd be using our confinement rooms anyway to hold this little traitor. We need to find out what he did with Junior Gorman."

Alan added, "We'll need to get Mountjoy medical attention right away, too, if they've found him – drag him out of the War Room into the First Aid Room as soon as he arrives."

A quick knock on the door heralded Eric. "Alan, Smitty's here. He's talking to Dutch and Sam about some defense options he developed for Supplies. They'll guard him from attack. I've warned Medical to stand by for injuries – I feel a brawl coming. Will, I think we should fort up."

"I agree. We are overdue for an unannounced drill. At the least we shall have the practice. At best, we shall be ready to repel an invasion. While I agree that Senior Smithfield is a possible target, I believe it is far more likely that the demons want the War Room itself. They want its interlocking portals and the experts who operate them. They will attempt to clear and occupy the entire building. We must confine them to this floor. Mister Brock, you and your combatants will notify the chief officers of the other floors of this building that we are running a full alert and drill, responding to reports of a possible attack. Tell Maintenance to be ready to seal the entire structure from roof to basement if they detect demonic presence. I shall notify Madame Administrator. Senior DePoy, Senior Solway, sound the alarm and begin your processes."

As the last of Solway's Admin noncombatants left for the fortified areas behind Operations, Senior Auditor Dora Depoy pulled a switch in her office. There was a groan and rumble that reverberated throughout the ninth floor. With a solid boom, the huge filing cabinets that stretched from floor to ceiling pivoted sideways and locked into a three-foot-thick impenetrable wall. Admin and Ops were now completely separated. The rolling staircases that allowed access to the top drawers had been laid down on the floor to provide obstacles; desks had been shoved in among them. All were angled to send invaders towards the back of the building. At the farthest end of the room a portal sprang into life. On its far side an alarm sounded.

An Admin ran to lock the doors that sealed the Reapers' offices and bullpens away from Operations. The Reapers on the other side had already sent their trainees through the escape portals and sealed them. They assumed defensive positions.

Dorrie summoned her scythe, the standard Smithfield Supplies Mark III which had been issued to all the Operations Admins who had passed a certain level of combat training. Brock, Solway and Holman joined her. Bradshaw locked all office doors on the right wall; Wójcik locked Spears'. They joined the Reapers waiting outside the War Room wall.

None of this could be seen from within the War Room while its doors were closed.

Senior Johns came to stand by Alan. "I'm going to concentrate on our pretender. We want him alive and talking. D'you have a closet I can stuff him into until the fight's over?"

"Oh, yes. Brad? Show Senior Johns the broom closet. In fact, please stand by to lock it before rejoining the fray. Sir, we cannot prevent the man from porting away, though, if he can summon a dropped scythe."

"He's not going to be summoning anything. Mister Bradshaw, show me this closet and the First Aid room, please."

Half an hour later, a long-distance call came from Lahore. "Alan, can you set the portals? This end's having some problems with the waypoints. Expect five persons. We're bringing Kendall as well as Mountjoy. He's alive. Warn the nurse, both are injured."

"Five minutes, be ready. Medical is waiting. Good job, effie."

The portal hummed and glowed. There were chimes as the waypoints aligned. One was a little reluctant to activate; Alan slapped the console and hissed, "There's an Engineer in the next room. Work, or you're scrap." The waypoint came online at once with a slightly embarrassed ding.

Eric, over by the wall, grinned. "Ye need to get Will to approve enclosing the console to protect the operators. Miller's never going to forgive ye for shooing him out."

"You're right, I should have thought of that long ago. Tomorrow, maybe. Ready, everyone?"

"Ready," said quite a few enthusiastic voices from inside and outside the room. The usual number of Security officers stood along the walls. Two nurses and four orderlies stood by with stretchers. Senior Johns had tucked himself into the corner by the portal's edge. Eric was present as the titular head of Personnel, waiting to check up on his employees. Nothing that would make Parkash and ffoulkes start in surprise and possibly tip off the imposter that things were not as they should be. Outside the doors, Senior Richards had stationed Smitty with a few of her Supplies defenders, all wearing heavy backpacks with wands.

Alan opened the portal.