Body Politic Read Online Free

door three floors below banged open and heavy, ringing steps sounded on the stairs. Only the City Guard and citizens working in the mines are issued with nailed boots. Either I was about to have sex with a large female miner or someone in number 13 was in trouble.
    I should have known that someone was me. My door took a pounding before I could get to it.
    â€œCitizen Dalrymple?” The auxiliary was tall and barrel-chested, the kind of guy who gets picked first in playground team games. His black hair was longer than mine and the regulation beard thick on his face. “I’m Hume 253.” He handed me an envelope bearing the seal of the Council. “This is for you.”
    I opened it, expecting one of the public order guardian’s regular warnings to keep my nose out of his directorate’s business. Instead I read: “CONFIDENTIAL: Murderer codenamed Ear, Nose and Throat Man appears to have resumed his activities. Accompany Hume 253 to Council meeting.”
    I was having trouble standing up, let alone concealing my shock from the guardsman.
    â€œAre you coming, citizen?” the guardsman asked with an unusually patient smile.
    I followed him out. Halfway down the stairs we passed a middle-aged female citizen with tired eyes and a soft, sad face. I wished I could have spent some time with her, but she was better off without me.
    â€œI hear there’s been a murder,” Hume 253 said in a low voice. He must have been in his late twenties and on the surface he looked like a typical muscle-bound guardsman, but his enthusiasm was surprising. The average auxiliary these days displays about as much emotion as the tarts who service the tourists in the city’s hotels. “What do you know, citizen?” he asked.
    â€œNothing,” I lied as I climbed into the battered Land-Rover.
    â€œThe first killing in the city for five years,” the guardsman said. It sounded like he approved. He let in the clutch and set off round the corner even faster than his kind normally drive.
    I hung on to the worn edges of the seat and wondered exactly what kind of birthday present I was about to be given.

Chapter Two
    â€œI don’t want to die.”
    The fog had now reduced visibility to a couple of vehicle lengths. Only the knowledge that the disciplined citizens of Edinburgh wouldn’t be jaywalking enabled Hume 253 to head towards the Royal Mile at high speed. Fortunately there weren’t any tourists around Tollcross.
    â€œDon’t worry,” the guardsman said cheerfully. “I passed out top of my driving course.”
    â€œGreat.” I blinked in the chill air that was whistling in through numerous holes in the bodywork. The best of the Land-Rovers were reserved for border patrols and farm protection. “What time is it?”
    â€œComing up to seven,” Hume 253 said without taking his eyes off the road for more than a second. “The Council’s daily meeting has been brought forward an hour because of the killing. That shows you how seriously they’re taking it, doesn’t it, citizen?”
    â€œCall me Quint, will you?”
    He knew I was trying him out. “Use of first names is prohibited between auxiliaries and ordinary citizens. So is inducing a guardsman to break regulations.” He glanced at me, then laughed. “I seem to remember that my name’s Davie, Quint.”
    So I’d found a guardsman who wasn’t completely robotic. The more dedicated of them even address their barracks colleagues by number. “How long have you been in the Public Order Directorate, Davie?”
    â€œSeven years, ever since I finished auxiliary training. I like it. I’m going to stay in the guard. Not even six consecutive tours on the border put me off.”
    That sounded more like your typical guardsman. I was interested in his background, though. “Did you have anything to do with the last operations against the drug gangs?”
    He