No one had asked her about the sword when she got into the car, but there was a hint of recognition in Latimer's eyes when he saw it. 

Regan adjusted her seatbelt around the hilt and saw Latimer looking at her in the rear vision mirror. She stared back at him. 

'What?' 

'You seem preoccupied.' 

'Worry about your own problems.' 

'The Silverwater transporters are already in place at the meeting point, and Trevellian is there to intercept his informant. By the time we arrive, there should also be an investigator assault team on call if we need them.' 

Regan looked out of the window at the city. The sun was already starting to slip towards the horizon, tinting the sky above the buildings a dirty rust colour. She shook her head. 

Latimer's brow furrowed. 'I know this isn't how silencers usually work, but this might be our only opportunity. I refuse to let it go to waste.' 

Latimer drove them out of the city and through the industrial district. They passed auto shops with indistinguishable functions and furniture warehouses with peeling signs and depressingly upbeat names. Eventually, the shops gave way to junkyards and empty lots, where high fences topped with barbed wire protected mounds of rusting scrap metal choked with weeds. 

'How far is this place?' said Forester. 'We're almost out of the city.' 

Latimer didn't look at him, but kept his eyes on the road. 'It's a fair way to go yet.' 

Regan leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as Latimer took the exit for the highway. His car smelled like stale cigarettes and coffee. The smell had soaked into the seats so that every time she moved, another wave of scent washed over her. She tried to ignore it. 

It was almost two hours later, and the sun had set, when Latimer stopped the car outside a roadside motel that looked like the type of place where you'd push the bed against the door. The lights were out in the plastic sign that towered out the front, but Regan was able to make out the name Pheasant's Rest Motor Inn. 

The motel itself was a low, three storey building that had been painted a mixture of off-white and pastel blue that was supposed to give it a tropical feel and failed miserably. The whole structure was built around a central carpark; a flat expanse of concrete stained with dirty coffee-coloured patches where water had collected after rain. One side was given over to a petrol station that had been built to serve passing tourists in better days. The motel and petrol station now stood dark and derelict. Plywood boards covered the doors and windows, and scrawls of graffiti crawled across the walls like a disease. There was a temporary chain-link fence surrounding the building, but large portions had collapsed. Latimer aimed the car towards one of the gaps. 

Forester groaned. 'Why couldn't the meeting be anywhere nice? I thought infiltrators were supposed to be classy.' 

'I hate places like this,' said Sarafina. 'Someone probably had a dream about owning this place once.' 

The headlights seemed unnaturally bright against the bare concrete of the motel carpark. Regan looked at the dilapidated hulk in their white halogen light. 

'This place is a death trap.' 

'Trevellian picked his meeting spots well,' said Latimer. 'They built a bypass about thirty kilometres north of here a few years ago. The old highway is littered with little roadside stops like this one that went bust after their business dried up. Almost no one has a reason to come down here these days.' 

'So you can see someone approaching long before they even arrive?' said Sarafina. 

'If you're the first one to arrive, it's the perfect place for an ambush.' 

'There's no way out,' said Regan. 'Once you're here, there's nowhere to escape to.' 

Latimer waved his hand as if to brush away Regan's concerns. 'Just be thankful that we're the ones who got here first then.' 

The tyres crunched across the cracks in the concrete as they drove towards the motel. The carpark was deserted, except for one car parked in front of reception. It was an old white sedan that looked like it had been fished out of a lake. Latimer drove past it, and into a short passageway next to reception that led through the building. Regan saw a sign on the wall that read Parking for rooms 81 to 123 at rear. 

'I'm taking the car to the rear section so we don't alert Seline,' said Latimer. 

'What about the white car?' said Sarafina. 

Latimer nodded. 'Trevellian's informant likes to arrive well in advance of the meeting. Seline will expect to see some sort of evidence that he's actually here.' 

The car's headlights swept across the boarded up doors and windows on the other side of the passage. Regan noticed that the rear carpark was enclosed on all four sides. 

'This is a dead end. That passageway is the only way in or out.' 

'It's better than leaving the car out for Seline to see.' 

There was already a large dark van and another sedan parked side by side in the rear carpark. Latimer pulled up next to the van and nodded. 

'Everyone else is here. The assault team will wait in the van, but they can respond quickly if we need them to. Let's hope Seline comes quietly. If they need to get involved, then something has gone horribly wrong.' 

They followed Latimer as he got out of the car and slid aside a section of plywood that was loosely covering one of the doorways. It led to a concrete stairwell that was open to the night air. There was the faint sound of voices drifting down from above. 

Latimer looked upwards with a disbelieving expression and shook his head. 'What are those idiots doing?' 

He started climbing the stairs quickly. Regan and the others followed him. At the top floor, Latimer turned left and walked through the derelict skeleton of the building until he reached a door with a faded plastic sign that had a cartoon picture of a pool. Even through the door, Regan could hear the sound of raised voices. 

A short flight of stairs led up to the roof. It was a clear night, and the stars spilled across the sky in a bright silver ribbon. There was a small group of people standing on the other side of the roof, by a pool that was empty except for dust and dead weeds. A heavyset woman was arguing with a girl in a Silverwater uniform with blonde ringlets pulled back into a ponytail. As they approached, Regan realised that the girl was Bennet. Trevellian sat behind her in a wheelchair, next to two other people wearing Silverwater uniforms that had a small, oily looking man gripped between them. 

The heavyset woman's voice was thick and hoarse. She stepped close to Bennet as she shouted and stabbed at her with a finger. 'You don't tell me what to do. It's my operation, so you can go to hell.' 

Bennet stood her ground and crossed her arms. 'Back off sunshine. This decision was made over your head.' 

They both turned as they saw Regan and the others walking towards them. Regan glanced at Latimer. He had his hands pushed into his pockets, and his face had taken on a pale, pinched look. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it wavered as if he was fighting to remain in control. 

'This is a sensitive covert operation. What the hell do you think you're doing?' 

The heavyset woman crossed her arms. She was wearing a dark blue t-shirt and cargo pants, and her nut brown hair was pulled back into a bun. Regan guessed that she was part of the investigator assault team. Despite how she first appeared, it was clear that she wasn't fat as much as solid, with thick muscles and heavy bones. She stood with her legs apart in a way that made her seem immoveable. 

'I need to know what's going on in this operation, but this rude little miss seems to think my job is to eat her garbage and like it.' 

'Your job is to do what needs to be done, and it's Squadron Leader Bennet if you don't mind.' 

The woman ignored her. 'I'm not going to take responsibility for a prisoner unless I know why he's being detained.' 

Latimer rubbed his eyes. 'For those who haven't met her, this is Sergeant Westlake. She's in command of the investigator assault team.' 

'Silverwater was told that we needed to transport one high value prisoner,' said Bennet. 'We can't detain one and transport another.' 

'You forget that it's our lives on the line if everything goes to the dogs,' said Westlake. 

Regan followed Latimer's gaze to the man being held by the two other Silverwater transporters. He barely came up to their shoulders. His movements were quick and erratic as he looked left and right, and his eyes seemed to be constantly moving in his head. 

'Your informant, Trevellian?' said Latimer. 

Trevellian nodded. He had his hands behind his head, and looked as if he was simply there to enjoy the show. 'I suggested we simply dispose of him like any other piece of useless garbage. You should have seen the hateful looks that generated.' 

Latimer shook his head. 'We don't have time for this.' 

'That was the general thrust of my argument.' 

Latimer ignored Trevellian's comment. 'Westlake, you can drag me over the coals for this one after tonight, but right now I need you to do as Squadron Leader Bennet says.' He looked at Bennet. 'I need you to move quickly. Seline could be here any second now, and I don't want to be caught out of position.' 

Bennet unfolded her arms and turned to the two Silverwater transporters. 'Take him downstairs and pass him off to the investigator team. They can make sure he's out of the way until this is over.' 

Regan saw Westlake glower at Bennet as she spoke, but she didn't start the argument again. She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head as she followed the two transporters and their prisoner off the roof. 

Trevellian laughed. 'You'll be paying for that one for years to come, I think, Latimer.' 

Latimer simply rubbed his eyes. He looked as if he was about to reply, when Bennet walked up to him with quick, angry strides. She pointed at Regan. 

'What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Latimer? What is she doing here?'