'You're right,' he observed. 'I did say it was a long shot.'
I had an idea, and before Landen could say another word we were in the square at Osaka with all the Nextian-logoed Japanese, the fortune-teller frozen in mid-beckon, the crowd around us an untidy splash of visual noise which is the way crowds appear to the mind's eye, the logos I remembered jutting out in sharp contrast to the unremembered faces. I peered through the crowd as I anxiously searched for anything that might resemble a young European woman.
'See anything?' asked Landen, hands on hips and surveying the strange scene.
'No,' I replied. 'Wait a minute. Let's come in a bit earlier.'
I took myself back a minute and there she was, getting up from the fortune-teller's chair the moment I first saw him. I walked closer and looked at the vague shape. I squinted at her feet. There, in the haziest corner of my mind, was the memory I was looking for. The shoes were definitely red.
'It's her, isn't it?' asked Landen
'Yes,' I murmured, staring at the wraith-like figure in front of me. 'But it doesn't help; none of these memories is strong enough for a positive ID.'
'Perhaps not on their own,' observed Landen. 'But since I've been in here I've figured out a few things about how your memory works. Try and superimpose the images.'
I thought of the woman on the platform, placed her across the vague form in the market and then added the spectre who had called herself De'ath. The three images shimmered for a bit before they locked together. It wasn't great. I needed more. I pulled from my memory the half-shredded picture that Lamb and Slaughter had shown me. It fitted perfectly, and Landen and I stared at the result.
'What do you think?' asked Landen. 'Twenty-five?'
'Possibly a little older,' I muttered, looking closer at the amalgam of my attacker, trying to fix it in my memory. She had plain features, a small amount of make-up and blonde hair cut in an asymmetric bob. She didn't look like a killer. I ran through all the information I had – which didn't take long. The failed SpecOps 5 investigations allowed me a few clues: the recurring name of Hades, the initials 'A.H.', the fact that she did resolve on pictures. Clearly it wasn't Acheron in disguise but perhaps—
'Oh, shit.'
'What?'
'It's Hades.'
'It can't be. You killed him.'
'I killed Acheron. He had a brother named Styx – why couldn't he have a sister?'
We exchanged nervous looks and stared at the mnemonograph in front of us. Some of her features did seem to resemble those of Acheron now I stared at her. For a start, she was tall. And the way her lips were thin, and the eyes – they had a sort of brooding darkness to them.
'No wonder she's pissed off with you,' murmured Landen 'You killed her brother.'
'Thanks for that, Landen,' I said. 'You always know how to relax a girl.'
'Sorry. So we know the "H" in "A.H." is Hades – what about the "A"?'
'The Acheron was a tributary of the river Styx,' I said quietly, 'as were the Phlegethon, Cocytus, Lethe – and … Aornis.'
I'd never felt so depressed at having identified a suspect before. But something was niggling at me. There was something here that I couldn't see, as if I were listening to a TV from another room, hearing dramatic music but having no idea what was going on.
'Cheer up.' Landen smiled, rubbing my shoulder. 'She's ballsed it up three times already – it might never happen!'
'There's something else, Landen.'
'What?'
'Something I've forgotten. Something I never remembered. Something about … I don't know.'
'It's no good asking me,' replied Landen. 'I may seem real to you but I'm not – I can't know any more than you do.'
Aornis had vanished and Landen was starting to fade.
'You've got to go now,' he said in a hollow-sounding voice. 'Remember what I said about Jack Schitt.'
'Don't go!' I yelled. 'I want to stay here for a bit. It's not much fun out here at the moment. I think it's Miles's baby, Aornis wants to kill me, and Goliath and Flanker—!'