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The reapers both fell in behind. ‘Please go first, Hector,’ said Garovel. ‘And be very careful.’

The door was locked, so he broke it down. It clapped to the floor so loudly that he was sure more guards would be coming soon, but the first things he saw in the room were two people--a young man in a dark suit staring back at him and an older, seated gentleman staring vacantly at a wall.

“Excuse me,” said the younger man, “but what the hell do you think... you are... Hmm.” He squinted at Hector. “What do we have here?”

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“Fine,” said Colt. “Then maybe you can tell me more about your family. I’ve only ever met you and Geoffrey.”

“Ah.” Rofal took a swig of his alcohol. “My father and mother retired successfully some ten years ago now. Great man, my father. These days, some people question his lucidity--namely, my mother--but sometimes, I can still see that brilliance of his. That ambition. One moment, he’ll be talking about his great grandfather or his dead sister like they’re in the room; and then the next, he’ll be whispering to me about some secret store room he had built thirty years ago.”

“I met him once,” said Swank. “He offered to cut my hair for me. And replace it with possum fur. I’m still not sure if he was joking.”

Rofal laughed. “Apart from that, I have a few siblings. I inherited the business because my older sister, bless her, hates everything about it.”

Colt snorted. “One of you isn’t a criminal?”

“Oh, she has the mind for it. We all know she does. But she fell in love with an electrician and decided to become a housewife, if you can believe that. Still not sure I do.”