“We think the EMP interrupted the electricity supply we were using to neutralize her energistic power. It shouldn’t have done; we’re exceptionally well shielded in here, and our systems are all independent apart from the heat exchange mechanisms. But somehow she was able to overcome the marine guards and break out of the isolation laboratory.”

“Overcame, how, exactly?”

Pierce Gilmore gave a humourless smile. “She killed them, and two of my staff. This escapade is a futile gesture of defiance. Not even Jacqueline can walk through two kilometres of solid rock. She knows this, of course. But causing us the maximum amount of disruption is part of her tiresome little game.”

“The whistle has just been blown, Doctor. My orders are that upon capture she is to be placed in zero-tau. They came right from the First Admiral, so please don’t query them.”

“We are on the same side, Lieutenant Hewlett.”

“Sure thing, Doc. I was in the courtroom. Remember that.”

“I am on record as objecting to that adventure. Couteur is extremely duplicitous, and intelligent. It is a bad combination.”

“We’ll bear that in mind. Now how many of the lab staff have you accounted for?”

Gilmore glanced along the main corridor running round the laboratory complex. Several of the silvery doors were open, with people peering out nervously. “Nine have not responded to my general datavise.”

“Shit!” Murphy accessed the floor plan file in his neural nanonics. The laboratory complex covered two levels; essentially a ring of research labs on top of the environmental and power systems, with storage and engineering facilities included. “Okay, everyone is to return to their office or lab, wherever they are now. The existing marine detail is to stay with them and guard against intrusion. I don’t want anyone moving round except for my squad, and that includes you, Doctor. Then I want an AI brought on-line to monitor the complex’s processors for glitches.”

“We’re doing that already,” Gilmore said.

“And it can’t find her?”

“Not yet. Jacqueline knows how we track possessed, of course. She will be concealing her power. Which means she will be vulnerable during the first few seconds after you locate her.”

“Yeah. Tell you, it’s all good news, this assignment, Doc.”

The procedure Murphy initiated was a simple enough one; five marines were left behind to cover the door in case Couteur made a break for it. Unlikely, Murphy admitted to himself, but with her there was always the prospect of double bluff. The remainder of the squad he split into two groups, going in opposite directions to work their way round the ring. Each laboratory was examined in turn, using electronic warfare blocks and infrared (in case Couteur was disguising herself as a piece of equipment). All the staff were tested and verified; they then had to leave their neural nanonics open to the CNIS office overseeing the mission, to confirm they weren’t being possessed after the marines left. One room at a time, and even scanning the corridor walls as they progressed. Murphy was leaving absolutely nothing to chance.

He led the group going counterclockwise from the door. The laboratory corridor might have been a much simpler geometry than Lalonde’s jungle, denying her any real ambush opportunity, but he couldn’t get rid of the old feeling that the enemy was right behind him. Several times he caught himself turning to stare past the marines following along behind. That wasn’t good, because it made them jumpy, distracted. He concentrated hard on the curving space ahead, securing each empty room. Taking it a stage at a time, setting a proper example.

Despite the jumble of equipment in most labs, it was a simple enough task to scan their sensors round. The scientists and technicians inside were profoundly relieved to see them, although each welcome was subdued. Every time, they were checked out then sealed in.

The biological isolation facility, where Couteur had been held, was the ninth room Murphy visited. Its door had been forced half-way open, buckled metal runners preventing it from moving further. Murphy signalled the technical sergeant forward. He flattened himself against the wall, and gingerly extended a sensor block around the edge of the door.

“Clean sweep,” the sergeant reported. “If she’s in there, she’s not in range.”

It was a perfect double cover advance into the room. The marines deployed inside, scanning every centimetre as they went. A glass wall divided the room in half, with a large oval hole smashed through it. That, Murphy was expecting, along with the bodies torn by unpleasantly familiar deep char marks. There was a surgical table on the other side of the glass, surrounded by equipment stacks. Tubes and wires were strewn around it, a complement to the limb restraint straps which hung limply over the edges where they’d been severed.

Who could really blame the occupant for breaking free? Murphy didn’t appreciate being made to ask that question.

They left two sensor blocks behind to cover the broken door as they filed out, in case she returned. The next room, an office, had one of Couteur’s other victims sprawled on the carpet. They scanned the corpse first, and applied the static sensor. Murphy wasn’t going to be caught out that way.

But it was a genuine corpse, with a large number of small burns and several broken bones. A characteristics scan confirmed it was Eithne Cramley, one of the physics department technicians. Murphy was sure Couteur had tried to make Cramley submit to possession, but wouldn’t have had enough time to make a success of the process. The rest of the room was empty. They sealed it and moved on.

It took ninety minutes for the two marine groups to meet up. All they’d found was six of the staff who didn’t respond to Gilmore’s datavise.

“Looks like she’s lurking in the basement,” he told them. He ordered ten marines to stand guard at the top of the stairs, and took the remainder down with him. This, he thought, was more her territory. The construction crew hadn’t lavished the same kind of care down here as they had up in the ring of laboratories. They’d made it spacious enough, and well lit; but in the end it was just six caverns drilled in a line to house utility systems.

Again the marines deployed in perfect formation when they reached the bottom of the stairs. Murphy supervised them with growing unease. His heart rate now had to be regulated by his neural nanonics he was wired so tight, even the regenerated flesh on the fingers of his left hand was tingling with phantom sensation. He just wished it was a reliable way of warning him as a possessed was coming close. With each meter they advanced he was expecting Couteur to launch some vicious attack. He just couldn’t understand what she was doing. Most likely scenario was that the three staff they hadn’t located yet were now possessed. But she would know he’d be working on that assumption. There was nothing in this for her. Except being free of her bondage for a few hours. A reasonable enough impetus for most people. Murphy couldn’t forget that voyage back to Trafalgar on the Ilex, the wearisome power struggle she’d waged against her captors the whole time. It hadn’t taken him long to realize she’d allowed herself to be captured, making a mockery of poor old Regehr’s terrible burns.

Advantage, that was her sole ambition, gaining the upper hand. This escape couldn’t provide that for her. Not unless there was some enormity he’d overlooked. He felt as though his brain was being fossilised by the pressure of worry.

“Sir,” the marine on point duty shouted. “Infrared signature.”

They’d reached the environmental processing machinery. A hall of naked rock with seven big, boxy, air filter/regenerator units in a row down the centre. Pipes and ducts rose out from them in conical webs, leading away into glare of the overhead lighting panels. The marines were advancing along both sides of the bulky grey casings.