A slim, elegantly dressed woman emerged from an inner door behind the front desk. Tailored jacket and slacks in olive green and black, just a chic hint of work coveralls about the ensemble. Striking looks, strong on Chinese genes but salted with something else. She leaned down beside the reception agent, spoke briefly in low tones, then looked up again. Carl met her eyes from across the room and saw a depth of calm there that told him they’d just gone up an entire level. He saw something that might have been an acknowledgment in the return gaze; then the woman straightened up and came around the side of the desk toward them. She walked like a dancer, like a combat pro.

Carl came to his feet, on automatic, the way he would have if someone in the room had pulled a gun.

The new arrival saw it and smiled a little. It hit him secondarily, riding in past the wave of caution, that she was very beautiful in that Rim-blended, Asia Pacific fashion you saw in Freeport movie stars and major female political figures up and down the West Coast. She put out her hand, offered to Carl first. The grip and the look that backed it up were both coolly evaluative. Shaking hands with Rovayo was strictly a side issue, a formality dealt with and then set aside.

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m Carmen Ren, assistant duty manager. I must apologize for the way you’ve been received. We’re all still a little shaken from our discovery up at Ward BioSupply. But of course, we want to cooperate fully with the investigation. Please come with me.”

She led them back through the door she’d used, through cramped storage space racked with shelves of underwater equipment and other less identifiable hardware. On the far side of one sparsely loaded freestanding unit, Carl glimpsed two commercial-size elevator hatches set into a sidewall. A faint sea-salt dampness hung about in the air. At the back, the storeroom had another door that opened into an office cubicle where Carmen Ren gestured them to the two visible chairs and pulled down a third, folding seat from the wall. They sat with knees almost touching. The Chinese woman looked back and forth between them.

“So then,” she said brightly. “I’d been given to understand that your colleagues had all the information they needed, but clearly that’s not the case. So what is it I can do for you?”

Rovayo looked over at Carl and nodded with ironic largesse. She was still visibly fuming from their reception at the front desk and the subtle relegation Ren had dealt her. Carl shrugged and stepped up.

“Ward BioSupply’s fields are a good two hundred kilometers northwest of here,” he said. “Nearer three hundred, when you went up there two days ago. You mind telling us why you didn’t hold off until the Cat got a little closer?”

“Well.” Carmen Ren gestured apologetically. “I wasn’t the duty manager for that shift, so it’s not a question I can answer fully. But we quite often do attend to a contract ahead of time that way. It depends more on staffing rotations, hardware overhaul, that kind of thing, than actual proximity. As you’ll probably know from our promotional literature, Daskeen Azul has an operational deployment radius of up to five hundred kilometers should the need arise.”

“And the need arose here.”

“So it appears, yes. Though, as I said—”

Rovayo joined the play. “Yeah, you weren’t on duty. We heard you. So who was?”

“I would really need to check the duty logs to be certain.” A hint of reproach tinged Ren’s voice. “But I’m reasonably sure that the officers who visited us yesterday will already have that information.”

Carl ignored the significant look he was getting from Rovayo.

“I’m not concerned with what you told Donaldson and Kodo,” he said bluntly. “I’m looking for Allen Merrin.”

Ren frowned, genuine puzzlement or immaculate control. “Alan…?”

“Merrin,” said Rovayo.

“Alan Merrin.” Ren nodded seriously, kept to the slightly vowel-heavy mispronunciation of the first name. “I’m afraid we don’t have an employee of that name. Or a client, as far as I’m aware. I could—”

Carl smiled. “I’m not a policeman, Ren. Don’t make that mistake with me. I’m here for Merrin. If you don’t give him up, I’ll go through you to get him. Your choice but one way or another, it’s going to get done. He can skulk about America, hiding in the crowd like a cudlip if he wants, but it isn’t going to save him. This game is over. Next time you hear from him, you can tell him that from me.”

Ren let go a small, sliding breath, the sound of politeness embarrassed. “And you are, exactly?”

“Who I am isn’t very important. You can call me Marsalis, if it matters. What I am, well.” He watched her face closely. “I’m a variant thirteen, just like your pal Merrin. You can tell him that, too, if you like.”

A defensive smile hesitated at the corners of the woman’s mouth. Her eyes slipped sideways to Rovayo, as if in appeal.

“I’m afraid I really don’t know who you’re referring to with this Merrin. And, Detective Rovayo, I have to say that your colleague here is being considerably less well mannered than the two officers who preceded you.”

“He’s not my colleague,” said Rovayo indifferently. “And I don’t think he’s that bothered about manners, either. I’d start cooperating if I were you.”

“We are already cooperating fully with—”

“You put in to Lima on your way up here,” Carl asked her. “Right?”

This time, he thought the frown was genuine. “Bulgakov’s Cat very rarely puts in, as you express it, anywhere. We are dry-docked in the Angeline Freeport on average every five years, but otherwise—”

“I’m not talking about the Cat. I’m talking about Daskeen Azul. You got friends on the Peruvian coast, right?”

“I, personally, do not. No. But it may be that some of our employees do. Bulgakov’s Cat is, as I’m sure you’re aware, licensed for the whole of the Pacific Americas Rim. And Daskeen Azul certainly has contracts along the Peruvian segment. As do many of our fellow companies aboard. But this, all of this, is common knowledge—you could have ascertained it using any corporate commerce register for the region.”

“Seen Manco Bambarén recently? Or Greta Jurgens?”

Another elegant furrowing of the clean white brow. Lips pursed, regretful shaking of the head. Her long glossy hair shifted in sheaves. “I’m sorry, these names. None of them is familiar to me. And I’m still not clear exactly what—if anything—you are accusing us of.”

“What are they paying you, Ren?”

Pause. The brief smile again. “I really don’t think, Mr. Marsalis, that my salary is any of your—”

“No, really. Give it some thought. I think the people I represent would make it worth your while to turn. And this is coming down around you anyway. We don’t have enough yet, but we will. And when Merrin breaks cover, I’ll be there. You don’t want to get caught in that particular crossfire, believe me.”

“Are you trying to scare me, Mr. Marsalis?”

“No, I’m appealing to your sense of reality. I don’t think you scare easily, Ren. But in the end, I think you’re smart enough to recognize when it’s time to cut cable and bounce.” He held her gaze. “That time is now.”

The polite, sliding-breath sound again. “I don’t really know how to respond to that. You’re attempting to…bribe me?” Another shuttled glance at Rovayo. “Into what, exactly? Is this standard RimSec procedure these days?”

“I already told you I’m not a cop, Ren. I’m just like you. For hire and—”

Ren shot to her feet, clean and rapid motion, no leverage with either arm on the furniture around her. In the confined office space, it was a remarkable piece of physical precision. She brought loosely cupped fists together at her chest, a formal stance that echoed dojo training.

“That’s it,” she flared. “This conversation is over. I have been as cooperative as possible, Detective Rovayo, and all I have received in return are innuendo and insult. I will not be compared to some…variant in this way. Take your offensive, genetically enhanced friend, and get out. If you wish to speak to me again, you will contact our legal representatives.”