“We do not have to be enemies,” Mallowes said. “There is much we could accomplish together. The Senate was established by Devlin Stone, and will not go away so long as we remember his vision. We nobles ruled long before Stone came, and we will rule again. You will not be rid of us, so you would be advised to work with us.”

“Devlin Stone’s vision, of both the Senate and the Paladins, included people working for the good of The Republic, not for themselves. I’d be happy to have a Senate as Stone intended it. But if I had to choose between a Senate of self-interested vipers or nothing, my choice is quite clear.”

“You’re choosing dangerously.”

“I’m not choosing. I’m just trying to clean up the mess you, Sinclair, and all the rest have created. You made the choice for me.”

Mallowes did not show anger again. His face remained neutral, his expression relaxed. Then he turned and walked out the door without saying another word to Jonah.

Jonah sat, trying to let go of the anger he’d summoned up for this meeting. He hadn’t known how far he’d have to go, and had surprised himself with his more extreme statements. They did not reflect anything he had seriously thought about before. Now that he had a moment to think, though, he began to consider if he actually believed what he’d said.

Government District, Geneva

Terra, Prefecture X

19 December 3134

Levin had seen fire, Mallowes thought as he stalked through the streets of Geneva. Now he’d see ice.

It had to be done quickly, but not rashly. He couldn’t afford to let his anger push him into incaution. He’d managed to do this once before, and by all accounts carried it off perfectly, completely deflecting Levin from the correct trail. He’d had more time then, but not much. Once he’d received the information about Victor Steiner-Davion’s plans, he’d been forced to move fairly quickly. That was where preparation paid off. Having spent years learning which channels were best used for various types of business, Mallowes had little trouble finding the appropriate people for the job. The very first lesson any politician learns is the overwhelming importance of knowing the right people.

He didn’t want to be forced into using the same people. He couldn’t, really, since he’d heard, through roundabout channels, some unfortunate things about one of the operatives employed in Santa Fe. It was better to develop an all-new team, to avoid the risk of repeating himself, but he lacked time. Some degree of repetition would be necessary.

The shame of it, Mallowes thought, is that some of the difficulty arises from having done my job too well. He hadn’t gone into this project trying to create trouble for Sinclair; he’d simply noticed that a few signs pointed in the direction of his protégé and decided it would be advantageous to make sure those signs were seen and followed. He had not anticipated, however, that Levin would become so resolute in his pursuit. The whole purpose of the exercise was to create the proper climate for making deals, not to completely break down the relationship between himself and Levin.

Maybe it was for the best, though. He hadn’t seen this side of Levin, hadn’t known the secret contempt Levin had for him and the other Senators (though he suspected it—he suspected it of all the Paladins). If their differences were so deeply entrenched, it was best to deal with the situation now rather than wait for Levin to use his influence to make things worse.

In most cases, there were several options for dealing with a situation like this, but unfortunately Levin made most of them impossible. Levin was simply not the type to take bribes, or to keep a different woman in every port. It wasn’t that he was incorruptible—in his long life, Mallowes had never met a single person to whom that word could be applied—just that, whatever his weaknesses might be, they did not lie in conventional areas.

Mallowes honestly wished there were some other solution to this problem. He hated to stoop to the same low tactic twice in a single month. However, the short time frame and the dire nature of Levin’s intent left him with no other options.

It was also unfortunate that Mallowes would not have Morten at his disposal. When all this had blown over, he could perhaps work at extricating the poor man from Levin’s clutches, but for now that task must wait. In the meantime, Mallowes had to find another operative as skilled and as discreet as Morten.

Another lesson Mallowes had learned in his years of public service is that no one is irreplaceable. If you want to stay ahead of the competition, you must always know of at least three people who can perform any given job.

Mallowes pressed a button on his phone, then dialed a number. He waited, punched in a few more numbers, then cut the connection.

He picked up his pace. From the moment he placed the call, he had one hour to reach his destination.

To Mallowes, every spot in the city of Geneva fell into one of two categories—places where I will be noticed, and places where I will not be. The former division had several subcategories based on the desirability of being noticed at said location, but those were the two primary organizational groups. At the moment, he clearly needed a location in the second category.

The Museum of Terran Antiquity was just such a place. Established by Devlin Stone during the reconstruction of Geneva, the museum began life as a warehouse holding a wide variety of rubble that survived the Blakist Jihad. The items were painstakingly cleaned and restored, and pieces of Terra’s past were slowly put back together. The museum eventually had enough intact items to open a permanent display, and recently had nearly doubled its floor space as new objects arrived. A recent display of furniture and electronics from the distant twenty-fifth century—items that somehow survived seven hundred years of chaos—was the talk of Geneva’s cultural elite.

Mallowes was part of that group. He made certain to show his face frequently at the museum, so his entrances and exits were no longer noteworthy.

Today, museum traffic was light. With the election only hours away, the majority of Genevans were far too wrapped up in Terra’s present to give much thought to its past. Mallowes waved his membership card at the door attendant and walked in without a moment’s wait.

In the center of the floor ahead of him was a staircase that looked like white marble but was actually a far lighter composite. At its base it was little more than a meter wide, barely enough for a single person to pass. It widened slowly as it ascended three meters, then made a sharp turn to the right. As it rose, it grew broader and made a continually wider circuit. The sloped walls on either side of the stairs emphasized its upside-down pyramid shape. Walkways, which looked to be little more than catwalks, connected the central stair to each level’s promenade around the courtyard.

Mallowes, who disliked the architectural showiness of the stairs and also felt uncomfortable on the hovering catwalks, opted instead for an elevator to the fifth floor. When he emerged, he walked to the railing looking over the airy staircase. He spent ten minutes walking the perimeter of the courtyard, seeming to gaze at the marvel of the stair from every angle. In truth, he carefully watched the museum floor and the other levels for any face that seemed the least bit familiar. He saw no one who demanded his attention.

Satisfied, he walked beneath a clear archway filled with swirling smoke. Light flashed from one end of the arch to the other, darting back and forth, spelling out words that burned in place only briefly before fading. The words readA LIGHT IN THE MIST . Beyond the archway was an exhibit detailing the cataclysmic Brazilian rain forest fires of 2718 and how the charred remains contributed to the discovery of a half-dozen new medicines.