To Justin: “I knew it was going to be interesting when you left the party. I’m glad you’re all right and it’s all right what you did. That information is due for release soon anyway, before the news obsesses about it. Jordan is safer where you put him, and I don’t think I could have persuaded him to go there. Congratulations on that part; Please write Hicks and Yanni a meaningful apology and say you were following my orders.”

And, not least to Jordan, who’d actually initiated an exchange with her: “You and Paul are welcome. You can contact the Office of Domestic Services, Alpha Wing–the minder will have the number; and, arrange a pair of betas, set of your choosing, to serve as domestic staff if you like. Justin and Grant never opted to have anyone live in: that was their choice, but they relied somewhat on my staff. Now that I’m removed from that area, you probably will find it easier to have someone to take care of the day‑to‑day operations. It is, however, entirely your choice. I hope you like, the place.”

Last was a mundane detail, an order to the ODS to allow exactly that, to send the bill to her office, and to allow Jordan Warrick, whose request would otherwise ring bells all the way to Yanni’s office, to come and go on his own.

She leaned back, then, still in her evening finery, and got up, called Joyesse to get her out of the blouse and hang things in the ‘fresher. She slipped on a gown and told Joyesse, “Call Florian.”

For some nights there was no other solution.

She lay there abed, waiting, hands behind her head and thinking, with some amusement, that she’d probably issued the order for Jordan’s free pass only marginally ahead of Jordan’s first provocation of security in that wing.

And thinking, with much less humor, that the world was a little darker tonight, now that somebody had decided to bomb a tower on something shewas building. It hadn’t hurt anybody. But it had done financial damage. It was Reseune property. More, it was her project.

Maybe whoever had done it had known it was a special night for her. Was that too paranoid to imagine?

First the two nanistics Specials, mightily inconveniencing Yanni’s plans; and now this, a setback in hers…

The Paxers usually expressed themselves harmlessly in graffiti, or, not harmlessly, in subway incidents in Novgorod. They didn’t challenge Reseune directly.

Maybe that had just changed.

It might actually be an improvement. If they got out in the open, where security could lay hands on them…

Florian showed up in the doorway.

“I’m not at all in a bad mood,” she said. “I’m actually fairly cheerful, all things considered. You don’t mind my calling you, do you?”

“Not at all,” he said. Which he always said, but he always seemed to mean it. And he was just what she needed at the moment: a major distraction.

BOOK THREE Section 4 Chapter i

JULY 17, 2424

0827H

Twenty‑two weeks, and Giraud was growing a pancreas–not so dramatic as a heart, or lungs, but it meant he would be ever after able to digest food, to produce insulin and deal with sugars, and proteins…and thereby regulate his body chemistry. Not as dramatic as a heart, not as romantic, but just as life‑essential, and very, very important to a man who’d value good health and enjoy his table as much as Giraud would.

He had gotten a bit fuzzy, meanwhile: body hair had started. His skin was too big for him: he was wrinkled as dried fruit, but he actually had gotten lips, and had tooth buds–they’d be squarish teeth when they finally came in, the two center ones a bit prominent–but those wouldn’t be needed for months and months yet. The bones were still growing, and teeth now got their share of calcium and other nutrients.

He and his companions were getting much more complex.

BOOK THREE Section 4 Chapter ii

JULY 18, 2424

1829H

Disappointing, the lack of progress on the Patil case and the Thieu business. Ari had a small soiree for at least some of the youngers–Yanni and Justin were at dinner elsewhere, Sam had gone off to Strassenberg: she’d urged him to be very, very careful, and she’d diverted two of her own security to go up there with him and make sure neither Sam nor Pavel did anything rash. Maria had stayed here–barracks living was no place for Maria, Sam said, and she’d take care of the place.

But Maria would have been lost in a council of war, so she didn’t get the dinner invitation tonight. Sam would have come, however, and they missed him.

Tommy and Mischa and Mika came. Yvgenia Wojkowski, who had lost no time dumping the boyfriend who had jeopardized her chance to stay with the group…she was there. Will Morley arrived, and of course Amy and Maddy. They had a simple supper and drinks after, and they sat under the fish wall, which cast a rippling light on everything, and tried to absorb the complex detail Catlin and Florian told them in the general what’s‑going‑on briefing.

Namely: Rafael’s lot had turned up a list of twenty contacts Patil had had with shady connections; nobody yet knew anything but rumor on Anton Clavery–but ReseuneSec was still digging–and the Thieu autopsy was still doubtful as to murder, but on circumstantial grounds the death was just too connected to the Patil murder to be anything but.

“Meaning they’re good,” Catlin concluded regarding the perpetrators, “and that means they’re not amateurs.”

“Or it means they meant to kill Thieu the hard way,” Florian said, “and ended up just stressing him to death. But there are no marks, no bruises, except the livor mortis that happens when a body–”

“Ugh,” Maddy said, and waved the information away. “We don’t need that much detail.”

“Blown out a window is nicer?” Mischa said. “Twelve stories down to a cooling tower?”

“Nasty,” Tommy said. “So we know they weren’t squeamish.”

“That’s not highly helpful,” Amy said. “As if you’re going to commit a murder and squeamishness matters?”

“It does probably add into the ‘not amateur’ theory,” Florian said.

“Getting into Planys also does that,” Amy said.

“And the tower at Strassenberg.” Will said. “Which is organization.”

“Considerable logistics,” Florian said. “ReseuneSec lab’s traced the explosives to a mining company at Svetlansk. That’s no surprise. The mode of delivery is uncertain. No boats are reported missing from Svetlansk, none scheduled to be in the vicinity on that day.”

“But the explosives might have been planted earlier,” Catlin said, “and detonated by timer or remote. Proximity‑detonation would have been possible, but it’s not really logical to do it that way, and it doesn’t seem they did.”

The site was an inconvenient remove and an inconvenient height above the Strassenberg complex.

“One other thing of note,” Catlin said. “We also didhave a boat out and in motion at that time. It came from Moreyville, visited Svetlansk, and came back.”

“Long trip,” ‘Stasi said.

“Especially long if they came from Moreyville, past Strassenberg–” Ari said.

“Upcurrent,” Yvgenia supplied.

“And,” Ari said, “didn’t refuel at Reseune docks.”

That got attention from the rest. “Big gas tank,” Mika said. “Did somebody do that?”

“Yes,” Florian said. “ReseuneSec is wondering about fuel drops along the way. The boat was in fact on its way back from Svetlansk when the tower blew. Rafael is trying to check currents and times. Downriver’s naturally faster. The time could work. It’s a large boat, a rental, which makes it more suspicious. It’s easy to piggyback in more fuel tanks without altering the boat.”

“So they didn’t want to refuel at Reseune so we wouldn’t have records?” Maddy said.

“Something like,” Ari said. “That’s the lead we’re following, at least, the best we’ve got.”

“A link, who knows?–from Novgorod to Morleyville, past us, to Svetlansk, for people wanting to blow up the tower,” Tommy said. “At least they didn’t get help here at Reseune.”