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dead for eleven hours minimum now. Early days. Someone will start asking before lunch.”
    Sid glanced back out into the office where Ian had just arrived and was chatting to the night shift. “Has the media found out?”
    “No. O’Rouke had two techs load monitor programs into the station network as we were setting up. He spoke to all of us direct about what he’d do if anyone leaked it. I think we’re secure so far.”
    “That’s not going to last. But thanks for keeping it under wraps.”
    “My pleasure. I’ll hand over now.”
    “Sure.” Sid put his hand above the zone console’s biometric pad and told his e-i to log him in to the case. The station network acknowledged his request. The desk systems in the office switched to his personalized programs in their customized layout. “Is there a pool?” he asked casually.
    Dobson gave him a small grin. “Certainly not, that would bring disgrace upon the force. Mind you, if you’re still here in the room after lunch you’ll owe me a hundred eurofrancs.”
    “Oh cheers, pet. Nice to know you have that much confidence.”
    “You don’t want it,” she said seriously. “Not this one. Let one of O’Rouke’s brown-nosers take it.”
    “Aye, I might just.”
    They went back out into the main office. Eva Sealand had just walked in, a senior constable specializing in visual interpretation, who’d reassigned from Leicester eighteen months ago. Sid had worked with her on a semi-permanent basis since she started at Newcastle, a cheerful redheaded Icelandic woman with three kids and a partner in some kind of company network management job that Sid never quite understood.
    “Some work for you today,” he told her. “And then some.”
    She smiled as she pulled her hair back and twisted it through an elastic tie. “I just heard,” she said quietly. “For real? A North?”
    “I was there when they pulled him out of the Tyne last night.”
    “Who else have you got?”
    “Lorelle should be here soon. I’ve requested some extra members, and I expect we’ll just keep on expanding today.”
    Eva leaned in close. “Are you staying?”
    “Dobson’s running the sweep,” he muttered back. His main concern now was if he’d have anybody left to help with his other cases after O’Rouke shifted him back to normal duties. “But I’m telling you, pet, there’ll be some overtime to clock up on this, don’t you—” He broke off, staring in astonishment at the two officers who’d just walked in. “Aye, man,” he grunted.
    Northumberland Interstellar didn’t have a monopoly on employing 2Norths. Given the personality that Kane had been so desperate to duplicate, that trait he valued above all else—his determination—could switch them one of two ways: Either they went straight to work in the family company, keen to push it farther on so many fronts—financial, industrial, political, legal—one heading up every department with younger versions ready to assume top-dog position; or they struck out for themselves, equally resolute to show they didn’t need family to get ahead. The second type were in a minority, and tended to set up businesses that ran in parallel with the interests of Northumberland Interstellar. An even smaller minority went into public service. In fact, Sid only knew of two: Abner 2North and Ari 2North, who were now standing in Office3’s doorway, looking around expectantly.
    Abner was the elder of the two, in his late forties, reaching detective second grade, specializing in forensic analysis. Sid had worked with him several times in the last decade, and always found him a very effective officer no matter what case they were assigned. The fact Abner hadn’t reached a higher grade was always tied up with the biggest, longest-lasting gossip in the station: Outside politics, what motivation any of them could possibly have for joining the force was anyone’s guess. Sid didn’t worry himself over that—it was results that counted in this