"That was enough for me. I told him what I wanted to do, and he did it. Together, we made the break, tried to lose ourselves in the Strip." She shook her head. "Four new identities in two years, and it still wasn't enough. All the time, Wayne kept searching for a safe place, in case we had to leave Namerica. I don't know how he stumbled on the idea of coming here, but he did. He reasoned that it was one place even The Mock's mins couldn't get in." She offered up a wan smile. "We didn't talk about the federales."

"Your house almost got us," Hyaki felt compelled to tell her.

She glanced sideways at him. "That was Wayne's work, too. It wasn't intended for you. It was designed as a greeting for The Mock's hombers in case they ever showed up. How'd you get away, anyhow?"

Hyaki indicated the quietly attentive Cardenas. "My partner is real good at sensing anomalies in a situation." He added accusingly, "Your house nearly blew off my ass."

She shrugged. "I'd apologize, if I thought it would make a difference. Nothing matters now. Nothing matters anymore." There was a genuine yearning for closure in her eyes as she gazed up at Cardenas. "If you could find me here, then it means that Cleats can do so also."

"Not necessarily," the Inspector corrected her. "Not every official channel of information is compromised, you know. The facts of your case are known only to a very few." He indicated Hyaki. "Technically, Fredoso and I are here on leave, and not here on official business."

She looked as if it made no difference. "Doesn't matter. I can't leave here. The Ciudad Simiano is my last, and best, hope. Katla's, too."

"The NFP has a highly successful witness protection program."

Her laughter was sharp and brittle, though not entirely unexpected. She gaped at him in disbelief. "You must be kidding! Leave this place, where nobody gets in without permission, to go back to the Strip and give testimony against The Mock? I may not be as smart as Katla, but we do share some of the same genes. I'm staying here- even if Cleats's mins can find me." She threw a hand in the direction of the hallway. "Let 'em come. Let's see how they like dealing with Roger and his kind! But go back? Not a chance, fedoco. Not if you could convince me you could sell shaved ice in Spitzbergen."

"All right," Cardenas responded. "If that's the way you feel about it. But if you'll tell us what this is all about, maybe the NFP can extend you some additional help. You wouldn't be against that, would you? If you know something that we can use against Cleator Mockerkin that doesn't involve an actual courthouse appearance on your part, there's always a chance we can move against him while you remain out of sight here. That would remove the threat to you and your daughter without you having to return to the Strip. Wouldn't you like to see that happen?"

For the second time, she hesitated. "You're not going to force us to go back with you?"

The Inspector shook his head. "Can't. This is the Central American Federation, not Namerica. You're not accused of any crime, so extradition law doesn't apply. You can speak freely." He met her gaze without blinking. "I wouldn't try to take you and your daughter against your will, anyway."

She mulled his offer. Suddenly she looked younger than her years, more like a frightened teenager than a hardened survivor of the Strip. "It's the money. The Mock's money. Cleats's cash. Wayne and I, we appropriated quite a bit of mutable credit. Nobody does that to The Mock and gets away with it. The fact that I was involved made it that much worse. Makes him look the goat as well as the goof. He wants his money back. He wants me back."

The Inspector nodded comprehendingly, leaned toward her with- out smiling, and replied softly but firmly, "If you're going to lie to me, Ms. Mockerkin, I'm not going to be able to do anything to help you. The money you and Wayne Brummel-George Anderson stole is only a very small part of this."

Her face flushed with outrage and she half rose from the couch. "I'm not lying, you damn fedoco! Why else do you think someone like The Mock would want me back?"

Not in the least perturbed by her outburst, Cardenas tried to remain as sensitive and sympathetic as possible. "I'm not so sure that he does want you back, Ms. Mockerkin. But we do know that he wants your daughter."

SHE STARED AT HIM. SAVE FOR THE RAINFOREST sounds that drifted in through the screened windows, it was dead silent in the room. "I don't know what you're talking about, Inspector. Katla is a bright, perfectly normal, ordinary twelve-year-old, who suffers only from the problems that are common to girls her age. Beyond the fact that she's his daughter, I can't imagine what special interest my husband would have in seeking her return."

Hyaki sighed resignedly. "Give us some credit for doing our jobs, Ms. Mockerkin. We found you, didn't we? Besides, we can tell when you're lying." He nodded in the Inspector's direction. "My partner is an intuit."

Their host looked sharply at Cardenas. Most of the time he preferred to keep his particular ability in the background. This was not one of those times. She saw the truth in his eyes, and slumped.

"We've talked to your daughter's friends, Ms. Mockerkin. Both inside and outside the soche you had her enrolled in. We know that Katla is rather more than 'bright.' We know that she is a tecant, and that she was working on some important project for your husband when you both disappeared."

Fingers twisting and pulling against one another, Surtsey Mockerkin gave ground only grudgingly. "Katla's my daughter, gentlemen, and I love her." Raising her head, she gazed imploringly at the attentive Cardenas. "But I don't pretend to understand her. Where she got her kind of smarts I'm sure I don't know." She laughed sardonically. "Not from me, I can tell you! Me, I've got street smarts, and plenty of them. But book smarts-maybe it comes from Cleats's side of the family. I'm not so sure that's such a good thing.

"She's real shy, Katla is, but sometimes, when she was sure we were alone and unmonitored, she would try to talk to me about things. Cleats's project was one of them. He-he told her that if she didn't work with him, with his people, then something might happen. Not to her, but to someone else."

"He threatened you to get her to work with him?" Hyaki remarked.

"Not by name." Her attention shifted to the big man. "He didn't have to. It was enough to suggest that something might happen to someone close to her. He might have been talking about a sochemate, or a casual friend. You've never been around him, Sergeant. There's a quality to his voice. It's unforced, natural, but The Mock can order take-out Chinese and make it sound like he's going to commit serial murder. When he actually is making a threat…" There being no need to finish the sentence, her voice died away.

Cardenas pulled the conversation back to an earlier thread. "This project of his, the one that he had Katla working on: can you tell us anything about it? We don't know any details, only that it's of some significance. Apparently, others besides your husband are very interested in it."

She spread her hands wide and shrugged. "I told you. Katla tried to explain it to me, several times. I only remember a little about it, and I don't pretend to understand even the parts that I remember. It has something to do with a procedure she called 'quantum theft.'"

The two federales exchanged a glance. "That's all?" Cardenas prodded her.

"Oh no, there's lots more. I just don't understand any of it."

Brow wrinkling, Surtsey Mockerkin struggled to remember terminology and designations, definitions and descriptions, that were clearly beyond her. As she rambled on, it became increasingly evident to Cardenas that much of it was equally beyond him and his partner. What was worse was that, in the absence of their charred spinners, they had only their own inadequate minds with which to try and record any of the details.