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project.
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “They’re still missing?”
    “Not just Samuel’s; the entire floor.”
    “Every disc? But that’s—”
    “Impossible, yes. I just don’t understand it. They would have been swapped for the new batch at 7am, but the cases are empty.”
    “The computer back up? All footage is stored on the servers for twenty-four hours. It must be there.”
    “Wiped.”
    “What?”
    “It could only have been done by one of the technicians.”
    “Have you asked them?”
    “I spoke to Lam Chen—he was the one who showed me the files, or rather the lack of them.”
    “And you can trust him?”
    “I’ve had no reason not to.”
    “Up to now.”
    I leant back in my chair, letting my head fall back to gaze up at the ceiling tiles.
    The last thing Samuel had ever seen.
    For the first time in years I could kill for a drink—which in present company might not be wise.
    “Do we know when he was poisoned?” Moore asked bluntly. There was no question of it now.
    I leant forward on the desk. “Around 5am, as far as I can tell. As suspected, there are traces of strychnine in both his stomach and the vomit we found on the floor.”
    Moore balled his fists on the arm of the chair. “I just wish we knew it was from the stores.”
    “It has to be, you said that it looked like there was rat poison missing—”
    “As far as I can tell, but it turns out that our caretaker is somewhat lax when it comes to stock-taking—”
    “We have no way of knowing for sure?”
    Moore glowered as he shook his head. Like Olive, the chief prided himself on running a tight ship. Today we were discovering corners being cut across the base, left, right and centre.
    “How much had he been given?”
    I glanced down at the freshly written report on my desk. I could just imagine the ripples this would cause when it arrived in Germany.
    “More than enough. A lethal dose for an average adult is as little as 100 milligrams. I found traces of twice that amount. The effects would have been near enough instantaneous, certainly no later than ten minutes.”
    “So it couldn’t have been in his evening meal?”
    “Not in the concentration required. It must have been swallowed in the earlier hours.”
    “But there was no sign of a struggle?”
    “As if he’d been force-fed the poison? Not that I could find. No skin under the fingernails. No lesions or bruising.”
    “So someone went into his quarters at around half-four in the morning, gave him the poison, without excessive force, and then left him to die?”
    “Or watched it happen.”
    It was a thought I’d avoided vocalising until now.
    “But why Samuel?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “And why now?”
    “Same answer.” Another thought occurred to me, this one more encouraging. “Could we... fingerprint the door handles, see who’s been in and out of the room?”
    “Who hasn’t, over the last six hours?” Moore pointed out. “You. Me. Half the medical team.”
    “What about the card readers? At that time of the morning, you’d have to use ID to get near the children.”
    Des Moore’s stared at me, and looked dismayed. He sprung from his chair. “I’ll check the logs. That could be just what we’re looking for.”
    He started for the door without permission to leave, keen to follow up any line of enquiry after so many dead ends.
    “One more thing, chief,” I said.
    He stopped, turning back to me. “I’m sorry, I should have asked—”
    I waved the apology away, dreading the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “Confine all the staff to their quarters.”
    His eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”
    I held his gaze. “What alternative do we have? Could someone have broken into the base to poison Samuel?”
    “In theory, yes, but—”
    I raised my eyebrows, and he finally relented.
    “It’s unlikely.”
    “Then we’re probably looking at an insider. Until we’ve at least narrowed down the suspects, I can’t take any risks. You, me, two