“I can’t give you a lift, Dr. Friemann,” he said before she had opened her mouth. “Got to stay here.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “My car’s only a couple of minutes away. If you see Mike back at the station, tell him I’ll catch him when I can. Have to get back to my other boss now—no rest for the wicked.”

“Sure,” he said with a tolerantly patronizing smile. Lisa knew perfectly well that nobody of his generation ever declared that there was no rest for the wicked—but what the hell did he know?

She was back at Arachne West’s Nissan within four minutes, although she was careful not to look like a woman in a hurry. Arachne West wasn’t so concerned about appearances; the Nissan’s computer served her with a voice warning and a visual alarm as soon as she pulled onto the busy road. “Fuck off,” she replied automatically. Then, to Lisa, she said: “I wasn’t sure you’d be back, you know. I really wasn’t sure.”

“I want a copy for myself,” Lisa said.

“I knew that”the Real Woman replied. “I want lotsof copies. Now that the secret’s out, we have to make sure it reaches as many of the right people as possible and hope the opposition will keep it under a tighter rein. Do you know anyone who owns a big black van built like a battle cruiser?”

“Oh, shit,” said Lisa, swinging around to look through the rear window at the traffic behind them. The van in question had no distinguishing marks, but she knew that its presence on their tail couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. “How did heget on to us?”

“It’s the mercenary, right?”

“I assume so. His name’s Leland. Last time he butted in, it was blind luck. I thought I’d got rid of all the bugs he planted on me. So did Smith.”

“You probably did,” Arachne told her philosophically. “He’s put his own watch on Miller’s place, of course, and he probably has the details of this car too. He’ll have traced Min—she’s the one I set to baby-sit Filisetti—before your people did. Mrs. Grundy used her ex’s passwords to play merry hell with the police computer, but she couldn’t do much about the mall moguls, so Leland’s probably way ahead of the crowd. This whole operation was put together in too much of a hurry. It’s a pity I had to park the car for so long—it gave him a chance to get to us.”

“Sorry,” Lisa said. “If I’d left any sooner, even the Ministry’s third reserve eleven might have gotten suspicious. We’re not going to be able to lose him, are we?”

“Not in this traffic. I daren’t even try—I’ve got so many violations stored up that the watchdog would probably shut the engine down if I made a U-turn or ran a red light. Back on home ground, it might be a different story, though. I’ll drop you in Great Pulteney Street on my way back to the parking lot. The crowds will be swelled with lunch-hour shoppers. Run down William Street and turn right to the Pulteney Mews entrance of the mall. Don’t mess about—just go straight to Salomey and tell them we’re out of rope. I’ll dodge into the underworld as soon as I’m out of his sight and join you in the office. Don’t wait for me, though. Start copying. I have only three people left on-site, but they’re all bona-fide mall staff. They have friends and they know hiding places. Okay?”

“Okay. Leland won’t come after us with anything too heavy—he won’t even want to use the sleepy gas he deployed at Ahasuerus. While he doesn’t know what we know, his first priority is to get information.”

“I can look after myself,” Arachne assured her. “And let’s face it—I really don’t look dangerous in this getup, do I?”

“You’re too tall to look entirely harmless,” Lisa told her. “But that’s okay. Just smile at him—and keep the gun behind your back.”

They had already come off Lansdown Road into Broad Street, joining the queue for the turn that would take them on to Pulteney Bridge. The black van was two vehicles behind. Lisa could have seen Leland’s face if the windows of the van hadn’t been privacy-protected, and the fact that he could probably see hers as she turned wasn’t reassuring. Once they had taken the turn, however, it was just a matter of waiting for the traffic flow to carry them through the roundabout and into Great Pulteney Street. Arachne had no alternative but to drop Lisa on the wrong side of the street, but she didn’t leave her to stand there while the van caught up; she kept her foot on the brake until Lisa had crossed in front of her.

Unfortunately, bringing the traffic to a halt allowed ample time for the passenger door of the black van to slide back. Jeff must have been driving, because it was Leland who got down. How or why he had decided she was the primary target, Lisa didn’t know, but there was no point in pretending she was a shopper. She ran, and was delighted to see from the corner of her eye that Leland’s first attempt to dodge through the traffic and follow her into William Street was frustrated. Her view of him was immediately cut off by the corner, but she glanced back again as she turned into Pulteney Mews and saw him lengthening his stride as he rounded the previous corner.

As Arachne had anticipated, the crowds had thickened considerably because of the lunch hour, but no one got in Lisa’s way as she raced through the automatic doors and into the side concourse. There was no hope of concealing the fact that she had gone into Salomey, but once inside the store, the racks came to her aid, and she was able to duck out of sight while she made her way to the dressing room. When she took a peek between two pair of trousers hanging on a rack, she saw Leland still poised on the threshold, hesitating—not so much over the injunction on the door as because he was uncertain of whether to go left, right, or straight ahead.

When she reached the dressing room, the guide who’d taken her down into the bowels of the mall before was sitting on a chair, trying unsuccessfully to look bored.

“Trouble,” Lisa said. “The man following me is a mercenary. We have to make sure the doors down below are all shut tight.”

The woman didn’t waste time asking questions. She had the trapdoor open in a matter of seconds, and she lowered it again as soon as she and Lisa had passed through.

“Where’s Arachne?” she asked as she led the way to the first door.

“She’ll make her own way. The mercenary’s hireling is following the car. We’ll need couriers, but the first priority is to distract the opposition.”

“We’ll do what we can,” the woman promised. “It’s open, but you’d better knock.”

The last sentence referred to the door to the anteroom of Morgan Miller’s cell, and was spoken as the guide turned on her heel to retrace her steps.

Lisa did as she was told. When she knocked on the door, she was admitted without delay—but she hardly had time to enjoy the swift reflexive surge of relief before she was clumsily struck down from behind.

The blow was glancing, but it had been made by a heavy metal object. Lisa was momentarily blinded by the pain as she stumbled, falling to her knees. Anticipating a second blow, she ducked and scrambled away on all fours toward the inner door, uncomfortably aware that the reaction must seem extremely ungainly to whoever it was that had hit her.

The second blow never came, and Lisa was able to turn around, raising herself to a kneeling position while clasping her hand to the sore spot at the back of her skull.

She found herself looking up reproachfully into the hostile eyes of Helen Grundy. The gun with which Lisa had been inefficiently struck was now aimed directly at her heart.

TWENTY-FOUR

What was thatfor?” Lisa complained bitterly. “I’m trying to help you, you stupid cow!”

“Just give me the data,” Helen said grimly. It was the tone rather than the content that communicated the wrongness of the situation to Lisa’s dizzied brain. She remembered then that Helen was supposed to be long gone, bearing mouse models of useless emortality to some distant destination.