VanDiver's expression cracked, just a little. So he wasn't absolutely certain. "You didn't say anything about this other trip to Admiral Rudzinski just now."

Bronski shrugged. "I didn't think there was any point in mentioning it, since we failed to find Lord Cavanagh on Phormbi. It's all in the complete report I filed."

"I'll make sure I get a copy," VanDiver said darkly. "Curious, isn't it? Stewart Cavanagh disappears, and no one can find him. At approximately the same time, at approximately the same place, one of my aides also vanishes. Coincidence, Mr. Bronski?"

Bronski put on his best bewildered frown. "Mr. Lee has vanished? When?"

"Apparently right after he sent that message from Mra-mig," VanDiver told him. "At least no one's heard from him since then."

"I see," Bronski murmured. "I don't know what to say, Parlimin VanDiver, except that I'll certainly initiate inquiries as soon as I get back to the consulate on Mra-ect." He half rose to his feet. "If that's all, sir, I really do have to be going."

"Sit down, Bronski," VanDiver said coldly. "I'm not finished."

Silently, Bronski lowered himself back into his chair. "Yes, sir?"

For a long moment VanDiver gazed at him, his face hard and angry and suspicious. "I don't know exactly what's going on here," he said at last. "But I can guess enough of it. Cavanagh's up to something, something on the edge of illegal or a little ways over the line, and he's got his old friends in Parliament and the Peacekeepers busy smoothing the track or looking the other way. This so-called hearing was just dripping with paybacks, from Admiral Rudzinski on down. Typical Cavanagh, all the way across the board."

His expression hardened a little more. "But this time it isn't going to fly. I'm going to take him down; and everyone who's tied in with him is going down, too. Everyone, Bronski. Do I make myself clear?"

Bronski nodded, appreciating the irony of it all. He was probably the last person in the entire Commonwealth interested in doing favors for Lord Stewart Cavanagh. "Very clear, sir," he said evenly. "May I go now?"

Slowly, VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "You're a cool one, Bronski," he said. "We'll see how cool you manage to stay."

"Yes, sir," Bronski said noncommittally, standing up and sidling past the bodyguard. "Good day to you, Parlimin."

He went through the exit door, passing between the two Peacekeeper Marines who guarded this entrance to the base proper, and walked into the public reception area. Garcia was waiting for him there, lounging inconspicuously in one of the back chairs reading his plate. "Well?" Bronski asked without preamble as the other scrambled to his feet.

"He left eight minutes ago," Garcia said, falling into step beside Bronski. "Daschka's on him. What kept you?"

"An inflated mouth with a NorCoord Parlimin attached," Bronski growled. "We'd better watch this VanDiver character—he's already nibbling around the edges of this thing. Anything new at this end?"

"Nothing significant," Garcia said as they walked through the outer door into the warm Edo air. "Aric Cavanagh made one phone call, to that CavTronics parasentient computer aboard the fueler they used."

"Yeah, they did a linkage to him in the hearing room," Bronski said sourly. "Don't think I'd want him testifying for me if I were in trouble. What did Cavanagh say?"

"Only that he had a few details to clear up here on Edo and that after that they'd be heading to Avon together."

Inside his tunic Bronski's phone vibrated. He pulled it out and flipped it on. "Bronski."

Daschka's face appeared on the display. "Sir, I'm at the Kyura skitter depot," he said. "Aric Cavanagh just picked up a message."

Bronski threw a glance at Garcia. "You were supposed to put a flagger on any messages coming in for either of the Cavanaghs."

"Yes, sir, I did," Daschka said, his lip twisting in annoyance. "Obviously wasn't address-keyed by either of their names or by any obvious aliases. He spent a lot of time at the terminal, too—seemed to be referring to his plate through most of it."

"Some code name, then," Garcia suggested. "Set up in advance."

"Probably," Daschka agreed. "Do you want me to pick him up?"

Bronski rubbed his fingers together, trying to think this through. He had so few men here, and arresting Aric Cavanagh might draw too much unwelcome attention his direction. "Let's give him free track a little longer," he told Daschka. "Stay on him—see what he does. I'll send Cho Ming over to the depot and start a search on the messages. See if we can dig out which one he picked up."

"Right."

The screen went blank. "Going to take a lot of digging," Garcia pointed out as they headed across the parking area toward their car. "Seems to me about time we called in some reinforcements."

"We don't need reinforcements," Bronski said. "We can handle this ourselves."

"Yes, sir," Garcia said. "You know, of course, that pulling Cho Ming off the fueler will leave it unguarded."

"I don't care about the fueler," Bronski said tartly. "I don't really care about Aric Cavanagh, either. The point of this exercise is to get to Aric's daddy."

"Yes, sir," Garcia murmured.

He was wondering, Bronski knew. All of them were. Wondering what was so important about a middle-aged former NorCoord Parlimin that Bronski had pulled them off important surveillance duties in Mrach space to chase the man down. Most of them probably thought it was a personal vendetta of some kind. Wounded pride, maybe, for the way Lord Cavanagh and his bodyguard had left him trussed like a prize turkey back on Mra-mig.

He couldn't tell them the real reason. Not unless he wanted them to join Taurin Lee in the private quarantine he'd had set up on Mra-ect.

Eventually, of course, they would all wind up in quarantine, Bronski himself included. But not yet. Not until they could take Lord Cavanagh in with them.

Because like Lee, Cavanagh now knew the truth about CIRCE: that the legendary weapon whose existence had allowed the Northern Coordinate Union to dominate Commonwealth politics for nearly forty years didn't exist. Knew that it had, in fact, never existed.

And there was no way Bronski was going to let that truth leak out to a populace desperately counting on CIRCE to save them from the Conquerors. No way in hell. Wherever Cavanagh had gone to ground, they were going to find him.

And were going to silence him. One way or another.

Assistant Liaison Bronski and his companion exit the Peacekeeper base reception area 18.14 minutes after the adjournment of the hearing, leaving the active range of terminals to which I have access. I continue to observe Parlimin Jacy VanDiver and his companion, but their conversation is minimal and gains me no new data. Three point eight seven minutes after Assistant Liaison Bronski leaves, they too exit the base.

I withdraw my linkage from the base computer system and consider this new data. Particularly disturbing to me is the implication that Lord Cavanagh has not been heard from recently. I replay the conversation many times, studying the facial and body expressions and auditory tones used by Assistant Liaison Bronski and Parlimin VanDiver. One of Assistant Liaison Bronski's comments in particular I find most intriguing: "We'd better watch this VanDiver character—he's already nibbling around the edges of this thing."

The antecedent of the word thing is unspecified; however, I calculate a probability of 0.93 that it refers to data not yet accessible to me. I continue with my analysis, but repeated iterations quickly diverge to inconclusive results. There are several possible explanatory theories, but none has a probability higher than 0.05. More data is needed.