At six-thirty he realized it was too big. He couldn’t get to the bottom of what was happening just in this one opportunity. But he’d get enough. He might not know the final destination when he left, but he would have a hell of a lot of road signs.

At six forty-five he had had enough. He shut down the computer, unplugged it from his generator, and wiped down the keyboard, chair and the plug ends. He’d been careful to make sure those were the only things he’d touched.

Six-fifty. Ten minutes to spare. He walked out of the Senator’s office, shut and secured the door, wiped her key-pad, and strode to the main entrance to the suite.

A voice ahead of him spoke. “Rebirth.” The lock clicked. The door slid open.

Jonah darted left, into a small supply closet. It was small, had a few shelves secured to the walls, and no door. Anyone in the reception area wouldn’t see him, but if they ventured down the hallway, he had no place to hide.

He listened. A single set of footsteps padded around the reception area. A few switches clicked. The first staffer of the day was in, getting the office ready. He or she was alone, but wouldn’t be for long.

Jonah’s mind raced, trying to anticipate the staffer’s routine. He’d walked through the office quickly on his way in, but the layout of it was imprinted on his mind as a three-dimensional model that he pushed and probed, searching for a way to leave unseen.

Then it came to him. Windows.

He knew the staffer was going to walk right past him in a matter of minutes. If the staffer looked to his right, Jonah was finished. If he just looked where he was going—watching the window ahead of him—Jonah had a chance.

The staffer sorted some things on his desk, whistled a brief tune, then, true to Jonah’s expectation, started walking down the hallway. At the end of it, next to the door to the Senator’s office, was a tightly shuttered window—with manual controls, of all things. Soon it would be letting in the first traces of daylight.

The staffer’s footsteps padded closer. Jonah stood by the door closest to the suite’s exit, partially, but not completely, concealed by the lip of the closet’s doorway.

He saw the staffer, a young man with a sharp nose and pointed chin. The man whistled again. He looked to his left. His head turned.

And he was past. He might be looking to his right now, but he was past the closet.

Jonah slipped to the doorway, carefully poking his head out, watching the staffer as he walked up to the metal shutters over the window.

As soon as his hands touched the shutter, Jonah moved. His feet touched the carpet as lightly as wind on grass, far quieter than the shutter’s clatter. He was at the exit in a flash, then willed himself to slow down, pulling it open gently and quietly. Immediately he was lightning again, disappearing through the door.

The door clicked quietly shut as the staffer finished opening the metal shutters.

Jonah stood in the still-empty hallway, wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead, and willed the red to drain from his face. His training served him well, and in a few seconds he walked down the hallway as the model of decorum. He took one set of stairs down to the twenty-first floor, and a second set to the seventeenth. Then he took the elevator.

He walked to the main entrance of the building. The guards sitting wearily behind their desk nodded as he passed. He nodded. And left.

Hotel Duquesne, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

19 December 3134

After he rolled the trash can containing Jonah toward the Senate Building and escaped the guards, Gareth had considered doubling back and keeping an eye on the place, waiting for Jonah to emerge. There was no telling, though, how long Jonah would be, the night was cold and Gareth didn’t want to risk being seen by the guards. Jonah had told him to go back to the hotel, so he did.

There was no possible way he could sleep, but he had little to do until Jonah came out. He spent most of his time wondering when he should set his lunch appointment.

Would a call first thing in the morning seem too urgent, like he was pouncing on the phone? If he waited too long, would he lose a chance to make an appointment?

In the end, he decided to call first thing. The appearance of urgency would bolster his credibility.

He waited until seven, then called the Senator at home. Unsurprisingly, the Senator was more than happy to make an appointment with a Paladin on the eve of the election.

Levin walked into his room right after he finished the call.

“Take a look at this,” he said.

The Senator had agreed to meet Gareth at the hotel after Gareth insisted, saying he needed to repay the Senator for all the hospitality he had shown over the years.

“Repay?” the Senator had said. “My boy, you don’t have to repay gifts.”

“I know,” Gareth had responded. “And I never could fully pay back your generosity. But I’d like to do at least this. Please.”

So the Senator came. It was early for lunch, and the vast dining room was less than half full. The faux candlelight and the isolated corner table Gareth had suggested should provide enough privacy.

“Paladin Sinclair,” Mallowes said warmly as he sat down at Gareth’s table. “Are you growing accustomed to the sound of that yet?”

Gareth shook his head rapidly, his eyes darting, and he responded as if his mind were elsewhere. “Ah, no. No, I suppose I haven’t.”

Mallowes’ eyes narrowed. “Is there something wrong? You seem distracted.”

Gareth leaned forward, started to speak, then leaned back as the waiter arrived.

Mallowes took charge. “I believe we’ll both have the special today. The faster you can bring it to us, the better. Thank you.”

The waiter was gone.

“I’m in trouble,” Gareth said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Trouble? Of what sort?”

“Levin. Jonah Levin. He’s investigating the death of Victor Steiner-Davion.”

“So I have heard. He spoke to me about his investigation, albeit briefly. What on earth does that have to do with you?”

“He thinks I had something to do with Steiner-Davion’s death.”

Mallowes barked, a noise that sounded more like a forceful sneeze than the laugh it was supposed to be. “How did he come to such a ludicrous conclusion?”

“He thinks he has evidence. There’s a man, someone you once referred to me. Henrik Morten. He was involved somehow, and he’s been lying to Levin about me.”

“Morten? I hope you’re no longer involved with that character.”

“No! Not for years! But that’s not what Morten’s saying. He’s acting like we’re old pals.”

The waiter returned, bringing bourbon for the Senator and a tall glass of water for Gareth. The Senator took a leisurely sip before speaking.

“Is that all Paladin Levin has? The word of a scoundrel? I should think that is not nearly enough to form any sort of substantial case.”

“No. He has more.”

Mallowes frowned and ran a finger around the lip of his glass. “Please pardon me for this next question, but I’m afraid it must be asked at this point in the conversation. You did not, in fact, have anything to do with Paladin Steiner-Davion’s death, did you?”

Gareth recoiled as if hit. “No!” he said, loud enough to draw the attention of the few nearby diners. He dropped his voice again. “Of course not! How could you ask?”

Mallowes patrician manner did not alter in the least. “Please, my boy, remain calm. I only ask so that I may have your word. Now that you have given it, I have utmost confidence in your innocence. What may I do to assist you?”

“Do you know what will happen if Jonah decides to bring charges? Or even if he just decides to air his suspicions? I’m a new Paladin; most of The Republic knows nothing about me. Their first impression of me will be that I had something to do with Victor’s death! It’ll ruin me before I get anything done!”