“And in the middle of all this going on, your adopted daughter disappears.”

“Yeah. How does it sound to you now? Sound like she just walked into the wilderness and froze to death? Or did something else happen to her? What did she see that night? More importantly, what did she measure?”

“What did she… measure?”

“Keep up, Newcomen. The kit she had with her would have been able to spot someone using a light switch at a hundred k. She was recording at the time. Could be that she interpreted the results on the fly. If it was something out of the ordinary, and she had proof of it, there might be a good reason to make her disappear. Have you heard of Haarp?”

“Of what?”

“Haarp. Aitch-ay-ay-arr-pee. It’s been kicking around for fifty years as a superweapon designed to harness the Earth’s magnetic field and focus it like a laser. It’s all kon govno. I hope. But something happened that night. A nuke designed for an emp effect. Some sort of space-based particle beam gun that can punch through the atmosphere.” He blinked. “Now that would be scary.”

Petrovitch drifted off into a reverie, and was only brought out of it by Newcomen sitting up sharply.

“There might be another explanation,” said the agent. “You say she was alone in the research station.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be certain of that?”

“She never mentioned anyone. And no one was scheduled to be there with her until two days later, on a supply run.” Petrovitch sucked at his teeth. Michael, all-knowing, hadn’t said anything either. Lucy was allowed to keep secrets from Petrovitch, from Madeleine, but not from Michael. “What are you implying?”

“How attractive is she?”

“She’s… I’m her legal father. I don’t think I’m supposed to have an opinion on that. She’s, you know,” and he threw up his hands.

“Lucy’s only four years younger than you are.”

“She’s only four years younger than you, too. You tell me, do you think she’s pretty?”

“I’m engaged to be married.” Newcomen huffed and stuck his finger in his collar. “You must know there’s about ten guys for every girl in Alaska.”

“And you must know that statistic’s bollocks.”

“Could someone have taken advantage of the fact that her link was down? Could they have decided to mount their own rescue mission because they’re infatuated with her?” Newcomen was on a roll. “Could she have not wanted to be rescued, and then been kidnapped?”

Petrovitch’s mind temporarily fused. “I… I hadn’t thought of that.”

“If this is a kidnapping, it’s federal business. She may have even gone willingly, if she thought she was going to be taken back to Fairbanks or this Deadhorse place.”

“Deadhorse,” said Petrovitch. “That’s closest by far.”

“When did the rescue team get to the research station?”

“Sunday morning. There was a snowstorm. The university couldn’t get a team out until then, and they borrowed an air force unit out of Eielson.”

“Two, three days. How far can you go in three days?”

“Twice round the planet,” said Petrovitch. “But not if the vehicle you’re trying to use has no electrics. Lucy had a snowmobile. Magnetic field strong enough to fry her link would have destroyed the ignition.”

“It should be relatively easy to check who she’d met, who might have braved a three-day-long blizzard to go and get her, and who had the means to do it. The list of suspects isn’t going to be huge. And whoever it is is unlikely to hurt her. Keep her prisoner, yes. Hurt her, no.”

“I wish I could share your confidence. If any of this is remotely accurate, they might decide that if they can’t have her, no one else will.”

“I’m sure Lucy’s very smart. She’ll know how to play for time. She must know that you’re coming for her.”

“Oh, she’ll know.” The corner of Petrovitch’s eye twitched. “We’ve done this before.”

10

Petrovitch sent Newcomen away into a corner with a screen and a copy of one of the many unauthorised biographies written about him, and sat down with a fresh brew.

“What do you think?”

Marcus brought out a long-toothed comb and started to tease his hair to even greater heights. “That the boy has had an uncharacteristic flash of brilliance, or he’s delving deep into his own psyche and it’s not a pleasant place.” He found a knot and tugged at it. “It’s a credible scenario. Lucy’s quite a looker. And remember, Sam: you’re here to try and get her back, not bring down another president.”

“We could do that later, I suppose. Are we going to have to break her privacy seal and find out what she’s really been up to?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked for that before,” said Marcus. “In fact, I’ll take matters out of your hands: Michael will call an ad-hoc, and if they agree, a counsellor will pick over what information there is. Michael will tell you if anything relevant comes up.”

Petrovitch hunched over. “We’ve a good relationship. I know it’s not like a father – daughter thing really, but we both behave as if it is. Newcomen’s right on one thing: she is smart, but she doesn’t get that from me. Otherwise she’d have inherited my low cunning, too, rather than the naïve optimism she excels in despite everything that’s happened to her.”

“You’re scared of what the counsellor might find.”

“Yeah. If it helps to get her back, I can live with the embarrassment, and so can she. We won’t be the same, though.” He let out a long breath. “I used to be a hard bastard. Nothing could get through. Skin like a rhino.”

“I blame that wife of yours.” Marcus laid the comb down. “She’s changed you. Honestly, I think I prefer this Samuil Petrovitch.”

“Caring makes it so much more difficult to behave rationally. Even to think rationally.”

“You want to blame this on the Americans. We probably all do. She was in their care, and the name Petrovitch carries a lot of baggage with it. What else were we to think?”

“Now it makes even less sense than it did beforehand. Something happened in the sky that night, independent of whether she had a secret admirer who rode to her rescue on a white charger. That had something to do with the Yankees: I feel it in what’s left of my bones.”

“Finding out what it was is secondary, Sam.” Marcus put his hand over Petrovitch’s. “I know what you’re like.”

“Yeah. Focus, focus.” He tried a smile, but it came out all wrong. “It’s going to drive me crazy. I hate not knowing stuff. I really hate not knowing stuff that other people do know and are trying to keep from me.”

“Your travel bag’s almost ready. Make sure no one looks inside it.”

“I’ll do my best.” Petrovitch looked over to where Newcomen sat. The man looked as white as a ghost, his lips thin, pale lines drawn over his teeth. “I don’t think he’s enjoying his book.”

“Even if half the things written in it were true, he’ll be shocked to his little Reconstructionist core. Where’s he up to?”

“He’s just skipping through it, reading about a paragraph a page. He’s up to the point where I apparently order the slaughter of two hundred thousand Outies, and just before the second Battle of Waterloo.”

“Leave enough time to get to the airport,” said Marcus.

“Plenty. Hour and a half, flying from Newark. Newcomen’s taking his girl out for Valentine’s Day, something I think he should do. Something vaguely normal. It’ll be the last chance he gets.”

“He’s taking his predicament well, I think.”

“He’s blanking it out completely. Perhaps he hopes it’ll disappear if he doesn’t mention it. Don’t worry, I’ll remind him often enough.”

“And you really think you can keep him in line? What if he suddenly gets brave?”

“Then it’ll be for the first time in his adult life.” Petrovitch ran his hand over his chest, where the turbine spun quietly. “I’ll deal with that if it happens, but I’ll subvert him before then. He already thinks his boss might be lying to him, or at least not telling him the whole truth. In his binary mind, that probably counts as the same thing. Authority has to be trusted completely, at all times. That’s a basic tenet of Reconstruction.”