'The technical term is "deep cover", Alex. I was only performing my duty.'

'Your "duty" murdered a lot of innocent people when the Rock was destroyed. How does that make you any better than me?'

'I have no idea who activated the weapon. We wouldn't even have known you were smuggling that kind of technology if we hadn't been alerted by your attempt to illicitly acquire one of our liquid shields. When you look at the sheer length of the chain eventually leading to you, it's hardly a surprise if a link happens to break. Tell me, how long have you known?'

'About you? Long enough,' Bourdain replied. 'You were the weak link – the one whose story was a little too perfect, a little too contrived.'

'But good enough while it lasted,' Remembrance replied, keeping his shotgun trained on Bourdain. 'I'm afraid it's over, Alex.'

Remembrance twisted around, changing his grip on his shotgun so he now held it like a club, and batted Honeydew's shotgun out of the agent's hands. It was still attached to Honeydew's wrist by a loop, but Remembrance had bought himself precious moments, unless either Kapur or Mazower He heard a pair of near-simultaneous clicks and turned to see the two bodyguards standing up, next to their kicked-over chairs, each training a handgun on him. Remembrance froze in mid-swing, and saw Bourdain's grin spread a little wider.

'You should have gone through the proper channels,' Honeydew rasped, retrieving his shotgun back out from where it had slipped between two slats, but keeping his distance now.

'Why? To give you even more time to warn Bourdain I was on my way?'

'I want you to put your weapon down, and I want you to do it very softly, and very gently,' Honeydew replied. 'And then we're going to talk. Remember what I told you: this is the last place you ever want to start a fire-fight.'

Remembrance stood stock-still, considering his options. He was peripherally aware of motion at some distance and glanced sideways to see that the kitchen staff and the few remaining clientele were making their escape as quietly and carefully as possible.

As if in response to the sudden tension in the air, a faint tremor rolled through the moist flesh underfoot. More small winged shapes erupted from the deep shadows in the upper reaches of the maul-worm's interior, and there was a long exhalation of air from the darker reaches of the cave further in that bordered on a low animal moan.

Honeydew's wings twitched nervously as they all waited to see if anything more happened, but the tremor faded after a few moments and then there was nothing. Remembrance noticed the fleeing staff and customers had all frozen in place, somewhat comically, once the maul-worm had started twitching. They started moving again a little more quickly once it looked like they were in less danger. A few cast frightened glances towards the tableau of armed Bandati and humans, all apparently intent on killing each other in the most volatile environment possible.

Remembrance spun his shotgun back around, training it once more on Bourdain, who rolled his eyes and shook his head at the same time. 'I think I made it clear I wasn't going to do anything of the kind.'

'Be sensible, Remembrance, and surrender your weapon. Pull that trigger and there's a good chance we'll all wind up dead.'

'And if I don't, what? You'll shoot me?' The situation was patently ridiculous. 'And how exactly is that any better?'

Bourdain stood up, the smile vanished from his face. He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. 'Nobody said anything about shooting you or anyone else. We just want to talk, perhaps come to an agreement of some kind – one that benefits us all.'

'That would be nice,' Remembrance replied drily, 'but unfortunately, your reputation rather precedes you. We both know I'm dead the instant I put this shotgun down.'

He lowered the barrel of his shotgun until it was poking down between two slats and at the floor formed by the maul-worm's gullet. He made sure they could all see his finger was ready on the trigger. 'You just can't take the chance I might come after you again, if I'm allowed to live. Better to have me die in a place like this, somewhere that's inherently accident-prone. And the last thing Honey dew wants is for himself to be exposed as being linked to a high-tech smuggling operation. So, no, I really don't think I want to put this shotgun down.'

'Wait.' Bourdain stepped around the table. 'Just wait a goddamn minute. There are ways and means to sort this out, so nobody move and remember where we are. Nobody. Move. An inch.'

Remembrance pushed the barrel of his shotgun down into the moist surface of the worm's gullet, as hard as he could. His earlier terror had temporarily abandoned him, replaced by a kind of mania he could neither understand nor identify.

Almost at once, a breathy moan emerged from deep inside the cave, accompanied by a low rumbling they all felt more than heard. Honeydew's wings spasmed involuntarily, as if they wished to carry him somewhere far away. Kapur and Mazower looked like they were both on the verge of fleeing.

It occurred to Remembrance that in all the intelligent species he had so far encountered, the one universal trait they shared was a deep aversion to being eaten alive by something bigger than themselves.

'Stop right there,' came a voice from directly behind Remembrance.

'Hugh Moss,' said Remembrance, recalling the cadaverous shadow he'd glimpsed through a screen. He cursed himself for letting his attention slip. 'I had a feeling it was you. Aren't you supposed to be dead?'

'I am dead,' came the voice, sounding as lifeless as dry and brittle bones. 'I died and was reborn. Let go your weapon, little fly, before I cut off your wings.'

Remembrance turned to see Moss standing there. Like a graveyard ghoul come to life, a Consortium agent had once described the man.

Remembrance had not known what a ghoul was, and had never been in a graveyard, so he'd had to research the phrase before he understood the agent's meaning. But Moss now looked far ghastlier than on any previous encounter: his face was discoloured and heavily scarred, showing all the signs of recent violence. More pertinently, he was holding a long, curved knife close to the ligature of one of Remembrance's wings.

The knife gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the glow-globes. It was, Remembrance knew, no ordinary weapon. Rapid vibrations rolled through the blade at the touch of an unseen switch, vastly increasing its capacity to maim and kill. Moss had demonstrated its use once, by slicing a deep groove into a stone wall with apparently very little effort. Remembrance fingered the shotgun's trigger, tight under one long, narrow finger. The tiniest motion would send a bullet pumping into the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath the platform. 'I have a better idea,' he said, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blade. 'We're going to talk about Mr Bourdain's surrender, or I'm going to make this monster very, very upset.'

Nobody responded at first; Moss made no move. He's bluffing, Remembrance decided, staring at the man's disfigured features. He knows what'd happen to us all if he tried to do anything.

Remembrance slowly pushed the barrel of his shotgun deeper into the maul-worm's flesh. Almost immediately another tremor, worse this time, sent the platform trembling beneath them.

'I meant it, Alex. Call him off

Bourdain, pale and clearly terrified, stepped closer. 'Hugh! Move away. Now!'

Out of the corner of his eye, Remembrance saw Moss take a reluctant step backwards. The immense surreality of the situation came to him: two species trapped inside a third, and caught in a stand-off. He found himself having to constantly shift his attention between the five individuals facing him – Honeydew, Bourdain, Moss, and the two guards – all waiting for the moment they could safely disarm and kill him.