Conversation · Jean Vicquemare

"Wonderful," the woman looks north. "Then can we please just go back to Jamrock now?"

"Wonderful," the woman looks north. "Then can we please just go back to Jamrock now?"

"Wonderful," the woman looks north. "Then can we please just go back to Jamrock now?"

"Torson?" "Yes." "McLaine?" "Yes." "Heidelstam?" "No." "Vicquemare?" "Yes." "Du Bois?" "Yes."

Under the night sky the great district sleeps: A dark chessboard of wooden houses in the rain, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street glowing on the rainswept horizon...

Under the night sky the great district sleeps: A chessboard of old wooden houses in the snow, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street glowing on the horizon...

Under the night sky the great district sleeps: A black chessboard of old wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the darkened horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street disappearing into the rain on the horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the dark horizon...

The great district hums in the falling rain: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Grand Couron, from Precinct 41 to Boogie Street forking into the rainswept horizon...

The great district hums in the slowly falling snow: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41. To Boogie Street forking into the white horizon...

Under the afternoon sky the great district hums: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41. To Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the violet morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41. To Boogie Street forking into the rainswept horizon...

Under the pink morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41. To Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the violet morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41. To Boogie Street forking into the glowing horizon...

The great district hums with the noise of human habitation: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Grand Couron, from Precinct 41 to Boogie Street forking into the distant horizon...

Under the night sky the great district sleeps: A chessboard of old wooden houses in the snow, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street glowing on the horizon...

Under the night sky the great district sleeps: A black chessboard of old wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the darkened horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street disappearing into the rain on the horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the evening sky the great district turns on its lights: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls inside. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41 atop the motorway, to Boogie Street forking into the dark horizon...

The great district hums in the falling rain: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Grand Couron, from Precinct 41 to Boogie Street forking into the rainswept horizon...

The great district hums in the slowly falling snow: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41, to Boogie Street forking into the white horizon...

Under the afternoon sky the great district hums: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41, to Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the violet morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41, to Boogie Street forking into the rainswept horizon...

Under the pink morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41, to Boogie Street forking into the snowswept horizon...

Under the violet morning sky the great district wakes: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls and chimney stacks. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Precinct 41, to Boogie Street forking into the glowing horizon...

The great district hums with the noise of human habitation: A chessboard of wooden houses, 80,000 living souls. Firetraps as far as the eye can see -- from Main Street to Grand Couron, from Precinct 41 to Boogie Street forking into the distant horizon...

"I'm ready." (End.)

"I'm ready." (End.)

"I'm ready." (End.)

"Lieutenant Kitsuragi -- what will you do now?"

"Well -- first I will go back to my station and write the most detailed report anyone has ever seen. It will have to be good to cover all this. Then I will have a serious talk with my captain."

"About what?"

"Detective, we just stopped a small-scale war. Something is happening to Revachol." He takes a look around -- into the deepening shadows of the streets -- then pulls up his collar.

"I don't know what, yet -- but it's going to be a hard spring for the RCM. We need to get ready. Infiltrate. Investigate."

Distant traffic. A scrap of newspaper drifts by, carried by the wind.

It says: "Tensions rise in Terminal YC In light of the Débardeurs' strike in Terminal B, among representatives of heavy industry in Coal City..." you read.

Le Retour...

"Want to do that at Station 41?"

"Talk to Captain Pryce? I'd rather not ruffle the feathers of two captains with my doom-mongering."

"No, I meant investigate. Come work in Precinct 41."

"Work with Pryce?" A crooked smile quivers on his lips. "I'm flattered, but I don't know if I..."

Would fit in? Am crazy enough? Can take the stress? He doesn't know how to finish the sentence.

This truly came as a surprise to him. Not a bad one. But he's at a loss.

"Flattered? You're Lieutenant Kitsuragi. We would be flattered if you even considered..."

"I would have to tie things up in GRIH first. But... I mean, whatever is coming -- Jamrock will be more central to it than the harbour." The lieutenant turns very serious all of a sudden.

"And we also have a huge case load, lieutenant," she says with a smile. "Piles that we need to get back to. Mountains, even."

"I do like the sound of that..." He returns her smile.

He's really considering it.

"Yeah. Sure."

"He meant join us. At Precinct 41. Transfer."

"Good luck with your report."

"No -- good luck with your report." The lieutenant smiles warmly.

Dammit. Yes. That.

We're looking at a real brick here. The sooner you start the better.

"Wait, you mean The Return?"

"Perhaps..." He pauses, deep in thought. "There are people who say the Zone of Control will not hold up long. They're not on the radio -- yet. But there are parties out there..."

"Yes." His face darkens. "I hear worries -- from systems analysts in Vesper and Messina. International risks departments in banks. People like that."