"Sure,” he said, surprised at the question. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She pursed her lips. "I got a little worried when you didn't call."

"Sorry. I know this won't surprise you, but things got more complicated then I'd expected."

Beth nodded, glanced at something Kyle couldn't see, and then spoke again. "You're right. It doesn't surprise me. But did you get a chance to speak to Ellen?"

"No," Kyle said slowly. "But I will."

Beth looked away again. "I haven't been able to reach her. I tried all day yesterday."

"How long has it been since you've talked to her?"

“Two days."

"You've checked with her friends?"

She shook her head. "I don't know any of them-if she has any."

I'll stop by and see her today. Is she still at her old address?"

Beth nodded.

"Don't worry. I'll call you as soon as I find out anything."

"Thanks," she said.

Kyle reached for the Disconnect, but paused for one last thought "By the way, I like your hair."

She smiled self-consciously and reached up to smooth a nonexistent disarray. "No you don't. You're still a terrible liar." The screen jumped to black.

Checking the time, which was just after midday, Kyle thought the odds of Ellen being home were minute. Then he suddenly remembered that she didn't work-wasn't able to yet, according to the psych evaluations-and was living on settlement money the government had distributed from the seized Universal Brotherhood coffers. It was a good bet she'd be there.

The second message was, somewhat surprisingly, from Dave Strevich at the FBI. Considering their last conversation, Kyle was almost reluctant to return the call. But he did.

"Dave Strevich," the burly man said as he made the connection. “Teller! Sure took your fraggin' time getting back to me."

Kyle shrugged. "Man's gotta sleep."

"Really? Well, that explains it" Strevich held up his hand, indicating that Kyle shouldn't speak, and then tapped a few commands into his telecom keyboard. After a moment, Kyle heard a series of three low beeps come from Strevich's console. The older man nodded. "Good. We're clear."

"No bugs, eh?" said Kyle, and was surprised by the way his friend's eyes hardened just for a moment before he laughed forcibly.

"No, nobody's listening in."

"What's going on?" Kyle asked him.

"Look, I'm not telling you this," said Strevich tersely. "Nobody did, got it?"

"Got it"

"Red alarms started going off all over Ares Macro-technology and Knight Errant some hours ago. We figured they were gearing up over some intercorporate drek, but it turns out their interest seems to be in Chicago."

Kyle was startled. "Chicago? Ares doesn't have any major offices or facilities here, at least none that I know of."

Strevich nodded. "You're right. Their interest is in you."

"Me?"

Strevich nodded. "Maybe not in you personally, but at least in what you're involved in."

"I don't understand."

Strevich shrugged. "I don't either, but Knight Errant has moved, or is in the process of moving, various key personnel and assets into Chicago."

"Assets?"

"We have it on good authority that Knight Errant has sent what they call one of their 'Firewatch' teams into the city. They have three of them. Six to a team, a hard mix of combat cybernetics and magic. Combat strike teams."

"Great Coyote," Kyle said.

“Whatever," said Strevich. "There's more. This is Team Two, and it's been operating either in Barcelona for the European trade summit or in Azania down around Cape Town, depending on which source we believe." Strevich paused. "More important is who commands it."

Kyle waited. "Who's that?"

"Anne Ravenheart," Strevich said, "Captain Anne Ravenheart, formerly of the Sioux Special Forces and a former classmate of yours at Columbia, if I'm not mistaken."

“That's impossible," Kyle said, trying to remember what he could about his old acquaintance, and on one drunken night, lover. "She was there on a Sioux government scholarship."

"Military scholarship."

"It can't be," Kyle insisted irrationally. What he remembered of her wasn't military, nothing hard or unyielding. Just the opposite. It was true she had an edge to her, but he had taken the source of that to be the same as his own-being born into poverty.

"Think again," Strevich said. "She's a known quantity in military circles, no question about it."

“This doesn't make sense. I've seen nothing here on a scale large enough to mobilize Knight Errant like they're gearing up for corporate war. Sure, there are some weird things, but…"

"Maybe you should tell me what those weird things are," said Strevich.

"Only if you'll answer my questions."

"I'll answer what I can," his friend said, "and anything I can't answer I'll see if I can get you cleared for. Don't expect much, though. Senator Birch is on the Oversight Committee these days. I'm sure he still remembers you fondly. I know his wife does."

"Thanks," said Kyle. "You always did know exactly the right thing to say."

"Your frag-up, chummer, not mine."

"Look," Kyle said, "let me fill you in on what's going on here and then maybe we can figure it all out.”

"Deal," said Strevich.

"Deal," said Kyle, and then he began to give Dave Strevich me whole scan.

Strevich was quiet for most of Kyle's briefing, but it was obvious that the FBI man didn't want to be hearing any of this. The farther along Kyle got with the story, the more agitated Strevich seemed to become, though he fought unsuccessfully to hide it

“The nature of this spirit remains unclear. I don't recognize it offhand, but I also haven't had time to do any research," Kyle said in conclusion.

Strevich was silent, leaning back in his chair, staring away at something. "Kyle," he said, after a long pause, "we've been friends for a long time."

Kyle felt himself grow cold. He didn't like either the preamble or Strevich's quiet tone.

"Listen to me when I tell you-get away from the Truman boy."

"Why?” asked Kyle.

"I can't say."

Kyle slammed his fist on the desk, and the trideo image of Strevich jittered. "God damn it! You've got to tell me something!"

Strevich shook his head. "I can't. I swear to God I wish I could, but this is wrapped up so tight it scares me."

"You've got to tell me something."

"I am, Kyle-stay away from the Truman boy. What's going on there is bad, maybe as bad as it gets. You've walked straight into the middle of it. Disassociate yourself from the Trumans and disassociate yourself from your sister-in-law."

"My sister-in-law?" Kyle said. "What the frag does she have to do with-"

"I can't tell you any more," Strevich said. "If you've ever trusted my word, listen to me now. Get clear."

"I can't. Not without knowing more."

"I can't tell you more. You've got to understand."

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I do," he said. "Goodbye, Dave." He reached out to hit the Disconnect, then sat there for sometime staring at the blank screen. Finally he picked up his portable phone and connected it to the datajack behind his left ear. A fraction of a second later he'd called up the number he needed and entered it. It rang twice, but there was no image. Like his own, Hanna Uljaken's cellular phone had no trideo pick-up.

This is Hanna Uljaken," she said.

"Hanna, Kyle Teller."

"Hello!" Her voice was bright and cheerful, and it sounded like she'd gotten even more sleep than he had.

“There's been no word of any change at the hospital."

“That's good, I suppose. But that's not why I'm calling. I need your help with some research. How quickly can you get over to my hotel room?"

She paused to think. “'Twenty minutes?"