After we'd dealt with Clyde, I sent Laney and some PRBs to find Ronan Lewis. I was desperate to talk to him myself, but I wanted to get a few things in place first. So Alex and I went to the penthouse above The Diamond Hotel.

Brady Haywood was at the other end of the corridor when we stepped out the lift, his shirt half unbuttoned. He pinned us with his unnerving golden-eyed stare, then opened the only other door and ducked through it.

Jasper let us into the penthouse himself.

"Evan Archer was murdered this morning," I said without preamble as we entered the study. "He was a student from Bright Light University. I don't suppose you recognise the name?"

"Clyde Edwards published an Xplora article about him five minutes ago." Jasper sat down behind his desk. "It said a train hit him? Poor boy."

I ground my jaw. Fuck you, Clyde.

"Where were you between half nine and ten this morning?"

Jasper looked affronted. "Up here, working."

"With Brady?" I nodded towards the door. "He looked a little undressed when we saw him."

Jasper flushed crimson.

"I'm only asking so that we can alibi you," I said. "What you choose to do with your staff is no concern of mine."

"Yes, Brady was in here." He looked away.

"Brady knew Evan Archer. They met at the train station a few days ago. They both got off a train returning from Rosek."

Alex rounded the desk and showed Jasper two freeze frames from the security footage: a clear picture of Evan on the floor, and a shot of Brady and Niko helping him to stand up.

"What was Brady doing in Rosek?" Alex asked.

"He was meeting potential business partners for The Diamond on my behalf," Jasper said. "Another hotel called The Rose and Thorn -- you can find them on Xplora. We were considering promoting each other and offering shared deals: something I've discussed many times with other places. Brady often weeds people out, shall we say, before I meet them myself."

"How acquainted are you with Clyde Edwards?" I asked.

"We're not acquainted at all. I just know he writes these articles about the murder in my hotel." Jasper frowned at his tablet, hovering on his desk. "A lot of guests have left early or cancelled their rooms because of the frenzy he's creating."

"But you're very well-acquainted with everyone else who's of interest to us," I said. "You were all friends at university. Tell me, really, why don't you blame Kristina for Ripley's death?"

Jasper arched an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to blame Kristina?"

"You tell me."

"Rumours are rumours, Inspector. Ripley was not murdered."

He turned his chair away, his face pained.

***

We knocked on Brady's door, but there was no answer, and it was locked when we tried turning the handle. I confirmed both alibis with the receptionist on duty instead, who was standing awkwardly behind the desk in the lobby, her back against the old job advertisement poster. She told us that neither Jasper nor Brady had left the building near the time of the murder. I checked the CCTV to be certain. She was right.

Afterwards, we stepped outside and were hit with a cold February wind. I tugged my jacket tight around me, missing the bloody layers I'd shed. "We're going to the university now. I'd like to know just how skilled Evan was -- and there's an easy way for us to check."

We caught a tram to Bright Light University and managed to find the Robotic Science Block again. Professor Minerva West was in her classroom, tidying up for the lessons after lunch. She wasn't doing a very good job of it. Robot parts were still scattered across the tables and stacked precariously on top of each other. A half-eaten pot of cold pasta was sitting on her desk at the front of the room.

The professor straightened up as my boots clattered over the threshold. "Ah. Good afternoon..."

"Inspector Rames and Sergeant Sullivan," I reminded her.

"Of course. Are you here about Evan?"

"Yes, ma'am. I gather you've heard about his death?"

"Oh, yes. It's all over Xplora." She tucked grey hair behind her ears. "It's very sad. Evan was a lazy student, but it was only his first year. I felt sure that I was getting through to him. By the summer, I thought he might have turned over a new leaf and become my star pupil." She shook her head. "But now the talent that could have grown has gone to waste."

I might have pointed out that it wasn't entirely his fault, but after he'd almost killed me, I couldn't quite bring myself to defend him. "How talented was he, Professor?"

"Very! He had more talent than all of my other students put together."

"As talented as you mentioned Mary Daniels was?" Alex asked.

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, yes! I've never taught anyone as good as Mary since she graduated. Evan was the closest, and yet he was in danger of turning into a Zed Croft. He once hacked a university robot, you know -- one from the administration office. He made it come right up to our workshop. The whole class stopped and stared at it for a good twenty minutes while I tried to get hold of the chief administrator."

"Zed Croft did that?" Alex asked.

"No! Evan, of course."

My ears pricked up. "How did you know it was him? He left a trace?"

"Well, it's funny you should mention that. He didn't. But he boasted about it as soon as the robot had gone again. It landed him in a lot of trouble, yet he was as pleased as -- "

I was already striding back out the door. "Thank you so much, Professor. That's all we needed to know."

Alex looked amused as he fell into step at my side. "Now what?"

"Now we have proper evidence suggesting Evan was the hacker, so we can turn our attention to Ronan. I'd like to look around his flat."

***

A couple of hours later, we had a search warrant. Laney had got back to us with Ronan's alibi: he'd claimed to be in his flat, alone, between half nine and ten, and that had been the icing on the cake in securing it.

Ronan was currently at one of the sites his new clients wanted to build on. Because it was clear that the murderer would kill police officers to keep their freedom, Laney was playing undercover and keeping an eye on him while we nosed around. We also took two officers to his flat with us and stationed them by the door on lookout.

Alex picked the lock, his movements easy.

"Done this much before?" I teased.

"It was a hobby when I was younger. I thought it would come in handy when I joined the police." He turned the lock picks like a key, and the door clicked open. "As it turns out, it has been."

The camera in the door suddenly emerged, finally sensing that someone was trying to get in. It started to squawk about calling the police, but Alex opened a metal box just inside the entrance and flicked a switch. It shut up.

"Right." I took a pair of nitrile gloves out of my pockets. "Let's get to work."

We were standing in the small living room and kitchen area. Alex crossed to the units that made up the kitchen, and I looked through the papers on Ronan's knackered coffee table. Architectural plans after architectural plans. There was nothing hidden in them, so I moved on to the tattered sofas.

I felt around under the cushions. My gloves brushed over crumbs and a smashed-up earphone. I grimaced and pulled back, lifting the sofa cushion so that I could see properly. The only other thing there was a mouldy biscuit.

"Amber."

I straightened up and turned around. Alex was standing at the nearest kitchen counters, his head bowed to look at the contents of a drawer.

I went to him. The rear counters were cluttered with stacks of dirty plates and bowls. An old kettle was tucked up the corner with three cracked ceramic jars next to it, labelled as Tea, Coffee, and Sugar. I stood beside Alex and peered in the drawer.

It contained a leather case, which Alex had flipped open. There were two velvet spaces for small duelling pistol remakes. One was occupied.

Guns were illegal for any human or robot to possess unless it was an authorised part of their profession. Architects certainly didn't have permission. I frowned and snapped a few photos on my tabphone. "Interesting. Okay, you can move it now."

Alex lifted the pistol up. I snapped another picture, wondering how Ronan had even been able to get hold of it. Perhaps it had been a black market purchase when his pockets had been deeper.

Alex checked the chambers. "It's loaded. Nothing's been spent."

He tugged an evidence bag out of his pocket and emptied the bullets in. He put the revolver in a different one.

"At least we have something to arrest Ronan for," I said. "But it's obviously not the gun that was used to shoot Zed."

Alex looked troubled. "No... Amber, these are supposed to come in pairs."

I glanced back at the case and the two empty spaces inside it. Trepidation settled into my gut. "Yeah, they are. Let's see if we can find the other one."

We went back into the living room and entered a tight hallway. I was in front, and I pushed the door on the left open. "His bedroom. We'll do this one together."

The bedroom was hardly bigger than a shoebox. A single bed was pushed against the damp walls, and a wardrobe stood next to it. There were only two feet of space between them.

I sat on the bed while I checked the pillows. Alex crouched down in the floor space I'd vacated and looked underneath the frame.

I found nothing beneath the first pillow. Nothing beneath the second. Then I looked in the pillowcases, but there was still no gun.

Alex rocked back on his heels with a battered cardboard box. He lifted the lid.

"Got anything?" I prompted.

"No. This is just full of photograph paper." He furrowed his brow.

My stomach sank. "Check the wardrobe. I'll call Dixon."

I called my governor while Alex went to the wardrobe. He yanked open the doors, and a pile of clothes tumbled out like an avalanche.

"Dixon speaking," my governor's voice said in my ear.

"Sir, this is Rames. We've got trouble. Ronan owns a set of duelling pistols, but we've only found one here. I think he's armed with the other."

There was a long pause. "Laney's calling my tabphone. Hang on."

Another pause. I chewed my lip.

"Yes, you are in trouble," Dixon said. "Ronan's on his way."

"Thank you, sir. I'll call Laney."

"No, I'll keep in touch with her. You stay on the line. When I tell you Ronan's in the building, get ready to arrest him at gunpoint. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Alex rammed what had fallen out of the wardrobe back in. He turned to me, shaking his head. Definitely no gun.

I relayed the information we'd been given by Dixon.

"We just have the bathroom left," he said when I'd finished. "That should be quick."

We went into the bathroom. A tiny shower was squashed into the corner, and I peered around the curtain to check there was nothing lying around for us to look at there.

Alex opened the cupboard under the sink. "Wash bags, mouthwash, soap, shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream... Wait."

He lifted out a dark pill bottle with something white inside. He turned it around and held it up to the light.

They were pills, all right. And now I could see a big commercial label slapped across them, stating what they were. Ibuprofen.

I sighed. "Damn. Not cyanide."

"Ronan's close, Amber," Dixon said in my ear.

I took the bottle off Alex and sniffed it in desperation, but it really wasn't cyanide. My heart sank. We'd have to get out in a minute, and we'd found nothing to link Ronan to the murders.

Then I had an idea. "Alex, the kitchen -- there's a jar of sugar, right? Next to ones with tea and coffee?"

"Yes."

"Did you look in it? Smell it?"

He thought about it, his gaze connecting with mine for a heartbeat and lightening with understanding. Then we were both bolting out of the bathroom door.

"Ronan's approaching the building," Dixon said in my ear. "Get into your positions."

We burst into the kitchen. Alex reached the pot of sugar first and wrenched the lid off. I could smell bitter almonds from where I was standing, and he was quick to put the pot back down.

"Ronan is in the building," Dixon said. "Get into your positions, for God's sake!"

I drew my pistol. "Go!"

We bolted towards the front door and flung it open. The officers stationed outside flinched, their hands flying to their weapons. When they saw us, they relaxed.

I explained our orders, and their hands went to their weapons again. We moved down the corridor so that we were closer to the stairs, our pistols raised.

"We're in position, sir," I said to Dixon.

We waited, muscles tensed and still. Counting seconds. Counting the heartbeats banging in our ears.

Someone clomped up the stairs.

Ronan bobbed into view, his head down as he looked at where he was putting his feet.

I adjusted my aim. "Police! Don't move!"

He stopped on the last stair and looked up. "What the -- "

"Don't move! Put your hands where I can see them!"

Ronan slowly raised his hands in the air.

I inched towards him. "On your knees."

He sank down.

"Ronan Lewis," I said, "I am arresting you for the attempted murder of a police officer. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."