NOW

"We're nearly there sir."

Keel opened his eyes, nodded at Van Buren before leaning forwards to look out of the transport's small window just behind him. The orange rays of the setting sun made for harsh contrast with the darkened interior, but his eyes adjusted and he was able to make out the ring of electric lights that surrounded the estate below. The entire thing looked unreal, being an artificial extension of a large swathe of the lake shore, jutting in over the water and changing its silhouette completely. Built into the extension, surrounded by tall stone walls, was the sprawl of the Knessant mansion, identifiable by the beautiful dark blue shingles adorning the three main buildings, each four storeys and linked by a series of passages that were designed to look like they had no supports other than the walls themselves. As their transport circled around the building to the large helipad by the water, the lights in the top floor of the main building came on. Keel's eyes scanned the grounds as their pilot began the descent, picking out three separate surveillance cameras already mounted on pillars scattered throughout the back garden.

His phone buzzed, and he brought it up to face height to squint at the screen.

He put his phone away as the craft rocked, its wheels touching the helipad below, and red lights flickered on to indicate the ramp lowering. Keel undid the buckle of the safety belt holding him in place and stood to face the cold evening air rushing in. "Fancy an exercise?"

Van Buuren tilted his head, his blonde crew cut glinting in the evening light. "Sir?"

"There's good reason to believe Madame Knessant is going to take advantage of what happened earlier. A presence could be useful."

"Are we expecting resistance?"

"You shouldn't even need to aim at anybody. Just form around me."

He nodded, and turned to the rest of the squad, barking orders.

Keel unclipped the pair of black aviators from Van Buuren's shirt, slipping them on before striding down the ramp. He thought hard about Kurachek's work ethic, allowing the criticisms arising in his mind to shape his expression into one of pure annoyance.

A man in a black suit and shades as back as the ones he was wearing was coming down the walkway. He had a machine pistol on a sling on his shoulder, but as he got closer, Keel could tell it wasn't the same model as any of the ones he had seen earlier.

"Just a second!" Keel shouted over the noise of the transport's rotors. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "My boys are getting ready!"

The man in the suit stood at the edge of the helipad, hands clasped over his gun. He said nothing.

When the noise of the rotors died down and Van Buuren's men had assembled behind him, Keel started his walk towards the mansion, ignoring the stuttering protests of the security man, which eventually turned into a panicked radio call. He smiled to himself as he made it off the walkway and onto the path through the elaborate garden of hedges and nondescript statues, none of which he could identify.

Fucking hate abstract art, he thought. Even the mansion itself looked like a pretentious, high-brow gallery. If he was to believe Kurachek...well, what it said about the Knessants just meant he was going to hate what came next.

Ten metres from the door of the central building, he half-expected armed guards to pour out, and fan out around them, but instead the door just opened courtesy of another man in a suit. He and the men strode in, and piled into a glass elevator that simply went up without them having to touch any buttons; it seemed to have already been pressed for them

Keel stared at the floors as they passed, seeing a fountain on second, a massive auditorium on the third through a small window, and then they were on fourth, opening out into a balcony that went all the way around the larger room below, with only closet doors and a single pair of heavy oaken doors right in the centre. They were already open, and Keel quickly turned to Van Buuren. "Stay out here."

The captain saluted, and Keel strode in through the open doors, past the pair of white-gloved butlers that shut them behind him. He stopped at the edge of a pale rug that took up most of the centre of the room, his eyes landing on the silver-haired woman at the desk who absolutely was not Matilde Knessant. She was simply far too young.

She smiled, her damp hair still glistening. "Surprised, Minister?"

For a second, Keel was worried she had seen straight through him, before he realised the sunglasses and the thought of having to plan his own schedule around JTF was on his mind. He coolly whipped the shades off to properly meet her amber orbs. "I don't believe we've met, miss...?"

“Knessant," she said coyly. "Abigail, if you like. Were you expecting my mother?"

"From the tone of her message, yes."

"I'm afraid she's occupied at the moment. Replacement organs can be finicky, I'm sure you understand. You missed her by half an hour, I'd guess." Abigail kicked her boots up on the desk.

Keel wandered over to the digital fireplace in the side of the room, mentally picking one of the armchairs that were to either side of it. "Shall I reschedule?"

"Oh, nonsense. No, Mr. Keel, I think we can come to an agreement."

"About?"

"My brother's death. Succession is a mess, you know that."

Keel took his seat, crossed one leg over the other. "I had the impression only one of the children wanted the throne."

Abigail's eye twitched - she clearly didn't like the classification. "And according to my sources, he was murdered. A few cousins are making quite a fuss. Tell us the truth, won't you?"

"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation," he said flippantly. "But from what you already know I can say: I also think it's foul play."

Abigail raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"To have him go out all that way...did he enjoy hiking?"

"My brother was a slob," Abigail spat. "He was more of a yacht person."

"Any ideas how he could have gotten that far north, then?"

"You're supposed to tell me." While her smile didn't waver, Keel saw it hardly reached her eyes. "What's with the entourage today?"

"I was attacked. Mercenaries, it happens from time to time. Didn't take my job knowing it would be safe. Shame I missed Matilde."

"Shame," Abigail said almost expressionlessly. "You know what my problem is, don't you?"

"Getting smeared by a cousin?"

"They think I did it."

"They think you sent him up there?"

She hopped to her feet, walking over to the fireplace to stare into the hyper-realistic hologram flames. "They will say whatever it takes to sit in my chair. Sometimes they get so careless in pursuit of power, and they get hurt. That's not a good thing for anyone, is it?"

"No," Keel said dryly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I'd like to avoid anyone getting hurt. That's my job."

"Then it'd be good if you could let my people investigate." She didn't take her eyes off the fire. "Or just speed up. I'm sure we'll find very quickly that I had nothing to do with his death."

"The facts are not so simple."

A chuckle escaped Abigail, almost like a scoff. "If he was murdered then just find the murderer. Simple as. I'll take it from there."

"I never said it was murder."

"But you're implying it." She sat down in the other armchair. "I know politics is complicated. I did stay away. But what's worth a killer going free?" she wondered aloud.

"The UHE is concerned, I assure you. We don't have the full story yet."

"Thought you'd be more concerned about your 'bug problem'."

Keel turned to look right at her. "Be very careful about what you say next."

Abigail returned with her own steely gaze, before she burst into laughter. "Oh, Mr. Keel. I believe you. Probably need another week to go over all the evidence."

"A few before we can publicise the results."

"Really? I think it wouldn't take that long." That sly smile of hers returned. "Are you afraid of the truth, Mr. Keel?"

"I've already been shot at once today. I don't scare so easily."

"I think we both agree that an all-out war would be detrimental to everyone."

"You wouldn't dare."

"You don't know me, Minister. I could do all sorts of things."

Keel said nothing to that.

"You have until the end of the week, then my family reunion. If not...the infestation might get worse. Sucks not to have connections in the Multiplex, doesn't it?"

Keel stood up. "I'll consider my - your - options."

Abigail gave him a little wave as he exited.

As soon as the doors were shut again, he produced his phone and began dialling.

"Sir?" Van Buuren asked. "Is there an issue?"

"Just get me out before I decide to burn this place to the ground." He put the phone to his ear. "Seb? Yeah. No, it was the daughter. I know. I know, shut up for a second. I want you to dig up everything you have on Abigail Knessant. Shit- fuck, yes, I'll pay full overtime, just get it done!"