Crime SceneHe stood in the open hallway and looked around, mouth gaping open. He'd never seen anything like this, only in old history books. A huge, old house, frozen in time. The stairway ahead of him, wide enough to fit two hover-cars side by side. White pillars, vaulted ceiling. It reminded him of a cathedral, the sheer enormity of it. How could all this be set aside for one, old man?
It was cold and Bremen shivered. On the journey over, he'd stopped off to meet his dealer. Two hundred cigarettes, 'Finest Chinese tobacco,' the dealer told him. Bremen didn't care about that, he just needed the nicotine. It cost him five hundred credits. That was almost a hundred up from last month. 'Getting harder to get these through,' the dealer told him, smiling through blackened, chipped teeth, 'You
