Xindii lifted the pint of beer and brought it just under his nostrils, letting his nose take in the sheer craftsmanship of the ale. The time, the chemistry of the hops, the fermentation upon which everything rested. The smooth and precise cream layer, as beguiling as a frozen tundra and probably as dangerous, after half a dozen or so of course.

'Just drink it man, for goodness sake,' declared the Don, supping his like a connosuier.

'Amen to that,' replied the Inspector, taking a massive swig of the fine ale, thirsty, more than anything.

The Mapper proceeded to take a sip and was mildly surprised when he did. 'Chocolate . . . divine.'

The Don smiled, casting his gaze over to the Krazzi. 'I'm afraid the taste of numerous bottles of Cobalt sherry over the years has reduced his taste buds to a selective spectrum.'

'Not true, Tatterfox. Not true. In fact just last week I had a glass of wine with dinner.'

'Two, I believe,' he responded.

'Well, you did drink the first.'

The Don nodded his head in agreement. 'Well, university functions do tend to drag on,' he replied smiling.

The Inspector placed his pint on the table firmly and burst the frivolity with his stone jaw and raised moss-brows. 'So, gentleman, why exactly are we here and not knocking on that bitch's door already?'

The Don passed the Mapper a side glance.

'A time for reflection, a pause to put everything in its right place. To come back full circle to where it began, here,' the Mapper decreed, holding his arms in the air, illustrating the pub of the Lamb & Flag where the initial murder took place, the murder of Gustaf Felstrom, 'where a somewhat twisted individual, posing as his twin brother met with a murder most foul-'

'Don't decorate it like some country manor murder ala' Agatha Christie – although such a dainty little crime would be a refreshing change,' the Tatterfox remarked.

'Just say it how it is god dammit,' the Krazzi declared, 'none of this window dressin.''

'What?' asked the Mapper.

'Decorated nonsense,' The Don said.

The Mapper took a sip of his beer and continued, slightly put out that no one wanted to share in his theatrics. 'Tonight gentleman we bring our fiends to justice. What we are about to do will ruffle the feathers of government for the rest of our days. We may face exile, or death, or worse. But I firmly believe that if we walk away then the consequences will be horrendously horrific.

'This isn't just a murder. This is the prelude to an invasion and I have the feeling it has already begun.'

'Invasion? 'asked the Krazzi.

'Yes. This entity that has invaded the mind of the Baroness is the spider in the web, working from her consciousness, hiding in the shadows . . . but for how long? It spreads its wares via a gospel; a sentient tale.'

The Mapper quickly took another swig of the ale, now strangely riveted by his data, relaying it to The Don and the Krazzi like an ecstatic child.

'When you read a book – and it doesn't have to be a good one – you always remember it don't you? You don't remember all the words or the prose but the story sticks, stuck in your brain like a fly caught in amber. Its tale, etched into your mind, always there, at the back, hidden in the detritus of everything else like haircuts and kissing and beans on toast. But this tale thinks, talks to you like your inner monologue. But is that you really talking? Is that really you saying you better put the washing out? Is that you really saying slit his throat and chuck him in the Lillius.'

'Shit,' the Krazzi stated.

'Exactly, shit. This entity has been lurking in the subconscious of man for millennia. What is it? I have no idea. How do we defeat it? Haven't got a clue. But we can hurt it! Reduce its influence by taking out its vanguard. The Baroness and her questionable offspring.'

'Hadigan?' The Don asked.

The Mapper nodded. 'Like I said, everything comes full circle. I have to face him, alone. It's what Josiah would have wanted.'

The Don agreed. 'And us? I take it you would like us to take a visit to the Baroness and ask her to come willingly?'

'I would, but she won't. Hadigan won't be there but I'm sure she will have a heavily armed entourage at her beck and call.'

The Krazzi smiled. 'That's what I like to hear.'

The Don pruned his whiskers with one of his claws. 'Xindii, if we do this we will be wanted men!'

'If we don't then we may as well pack up our things now and run for the hills, old friend. That gospel, Tatterfox, if it spreads, and it will, imagine every sentient thing on the Construct as one living mind, a gestalt entity! We aren't just talking subjugation my friend . . .'

The Don looked into the Mapper's eyes. 'You expect it to manifest?'

'It has taken on the mantle of the Flea King. And like a flea it hides, ready to feel the warmth on its face. Safe, succoured and fat, like all pupae there will come a time when it needs to shed its cocoon and share its majesty with the world. This is Testament, gentlemen, our home. The last outpost of light . . .' the Mapper looked genuinely concerned. '. . . let's keep that light shining as long as we can.'

The Krazzi reached for his pint. 'Well, no time like the present.'

'Oh, one other thing. The Watch HQ?' the Mapper prompted.

'What about it?' the Inspector replied.

'It was compromised remember.'

The Krazzi's top lip raised itself over the teeth. 'Shit. We need to get in there!'

'Why?' asked the Tatterfox.

'Because, ol' darlin' we need some firepower. Unless you were expecting to walk in to her manor with a deck of cards and a bunch of roses.'

'You have a gun, isn't it enough?'

'Usually, yes. But I have a feelin' old yo-yo knickers has a ton of trigger happy guards up her sleeve.'

'I fear the Inspector may be right, Tatterfox. That's why I am giving you this – something I knocked up in the early hours.'

The Mapper reached into his breast pocket and passed the phial to The Don.

'And this is?' he asked hesitantly.

'You can't go into the Baroness's estate with just the two of you! The Watch has been breached by Xelofremanine and there are those within who cannot be trusted. You need to find someone to trust.'

'How do we do that?' asked the Krazzi.

'You know the squad, Inspector. Who would you trust?'

'The old man, but he was so far up Gwendolyn's butt yesterday he was giving her a toothache.'

'Heat the liquid, disperse it into the atmosphere.'

'What is it, Xindii?' asked the Don.

The Mapper gave a coy smile. 'You'll find out. Inspector,' the Mapper said, leaning over the table, 'once the liquid has dispersed speak to your Commodore. He is smitten with the Baroness and her lineage but I believe at his heart he is a lawman and will uphold it whoever has transgressed its borders.'

The Inspector heeded the Mapper's words and nodded in agreement.

'Good, now, order yourselves a hot meal and another beer. It's going to be a long evening.'

'The last meal? asked the Krazzi.

The Don nearly choked, scoffing at the idea. 'Good lord no. If it was there would be a bottle of sherry on the table.'

Hi, guys. We are now on the home stretch. Thanks again for your continued voting and reads. I'm dead chuffed to share this story with you all. Glad the boys are getting some limelight. So, strap yourselves in. Grab a glass of wine( or bottle) and prepare for the END. Please continue to vote and plug. Most kind. Enjoy.