Free Body Politic by Paul Johnston

moment. Are we to understand there is some doubt that the Ear, Nose and Throat Man is involved?”
    â€œAbsolutely none,” said Hamilton, as firmly as a member of the Inquisition who’d just been asked if there was any possibility Galileo could be right about the solar system.
    The deputy senior guardian didn’t buy it. She turned to me. “Citizen?”
    It was a tricky one. Life would have been a sight easier if I’d told them what happened to the ENT Man. They probably wouldn’t even have thrown me into the cells for keeping quiet about it for five years. At least until I caught this killer. But it wasn’t just my secret. It was all I still shared with Caro, lost beautiful Caro, whose photo, thank Christ, was obscured by Hamilton’s head.
    â€œWe’re waiting,” prompted the speaker, her voice sharper.
    I let Caro fade away. And decided to keep our secret. “Well, there are a lot of inconsistencies in the modus operandi. The ENT Man removed organs from his victims, but he also took their ears and blocked their noses, sometimes with earth, other times with pieces of cloth.”
    â€œHe may have run out of time in Stevenson Hall,” said Hamilton.
    â€œYou think so? This murder looks to me like a carefully calculated killing. The person who did this knew how to avoid the patrols and gain entry to a protected building.”
    â€œWhereas the otolaryngologist,” said the medical guardian, his fingers forming a pyramid under his chin as he repeated the term, “the otolaryngologist tended to keep out of the way of guard personnel.”
    Except in two cases, I thought.
    â€œAs I remember,” the shrivelled finance guardian said, “he didn’t clean up after himself either.” The old man glanced at the photos and twitched his lips.
    Hamilton was shaking his head. “The woman was strangled, mutilated and sodomised. What more evidence is necessary?”
    â€œEvidence that will enable citizen Dalrymple to catch him,” said the deputy senior guardian. “There seems to be precious little of that.” She looked at me again. “If you are dubious that it is the same killer, what grounds do you have for expecting more murders?”
    It was a good question. They might give the impression of inhabiting a world light years away from the rest of us, but there’s nothing wrong with the guardians’ intellects. Except perhaps the public order guardian’s.
    â€œThere was an outburst of serial killing in the years before the UK broke up. I read all the reports. The likelihood of a murderer who gets away with a killing of this kind doing it again is overwhelming.” I was trusting a hunch as well, but I didn’t think that would impress them.
    â€œYou’d better make sure you catch him then,” said Hamilton grimly. “I propose that we increase the number of patrols in the tourist area at night. And that we continue to suppress all news of the guardswoman’s death.”
    â€œYou realise that every auxiliary in the city knows about it by now,” I observed, giving him a grim look of my own.
    â€œAuxiliaries are sworn servants of the city,” said the speaker loftily. “They will not divulge the news to ordinary citizens.”
    And a formation of pigs had just been spotted over Arthur’s Seat. “Even if they don’t,” I said, “it’s possible that the killer needs publicity. By denying him that we may increase the chances of him doing it again.” They all looked at me sternly. “Let’s face it, censoring the news of the ENT Man’s activities didn’t exactly help us catch him.”
    I caught a glimpse of the bust of Plato at the rear of the chamber. The Enlightenment used his ideas as the basis of the new constitution and they’re still debated every week in all the barracks. “You’re the students of human nature,” I said, trying to