With just a cursory glimpse of the section’s work, he hardly had to look her up. She had to be involved in tapping Kylyd’s computers, no doubt providing the clues Abbot had needed to take data from Kylyd’s systems.

But Titus couldn’t dawdle about without making people nervous. He’d have to delve into Dr. Kuo’s work later. He faded back into the corridor, coming out near the sleeper’s new chamber. There were three men and a woman stationed at the end of the short hall that led to the locked door.

One of the men was seated at a desk, apparently unarmed. Before him was a handprint verifier, and a monitor to check current status of clearances. The four guards had surely memorized the few faces cleared to pass that point.

At the end of the approach hall, the door was festooned with security instruments.

Titus ducked into a nearby men’s room and holed up in one of the stalls. Until he shut himself in, he hadn’t realized how frightened he’d been. He had promised Abbot he wouldn’t trigger alarms the next time he visited their relative in there. But did he have the nerve?

Of course, he had studied the alarms, and he had his pocket calculator with him. He opened the back and plucked out the nearly invisible adhesive dot that would bypass the palmreader. Placing it into its slot, he programmed it to tell the reader he was Nandoha, then palmed it.

It took him fifteen minutes to talk himself into it, and even when he stepped back out into the corridor, projecting the semblance of Abbot Nandoha about him, all he could think was, What if Abbot passes by while I’m in there?

But that probability was small enough. Even Abbot had to sleep sometime, and it was a big station. Titus had not come here to live his life without risks. He marched himself up to the check station, being Abbot right down to the slight swagger and benign smile. Palm on the plate, he flashed his own I.D. under the other guard’s nose. “Nandoha.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” replied the guard cordially.

Titus nodded and was passed through. He had to go through a sterilizing shower that tortured his skin, then dress in a disposable suit, but then he was inside the chamber. It was a very large bare room-originally built as a chemistry lab. It had dully gleaming pale gray walls, while the lights made him wish for his sunglasses.

Beyond the transparent shrouds of the double-walled bio-isolation airlock surrounding the opaque showering chamber– the whole installation set across the entry-it was also cold. The air inside the room was dry, preventing condensation on the cryogenic chamber itself. And that was the same as it had been. The sleeper’s chest was just as torn, the whole body unmoved– dead looking.

But that wasn’t what he’d come to see. Titus searched storage bins and working counters littered with instruments. There were half a dozen computer taps, and one stand-alone with a tremendous memory. Obviously, there were a number of “ivestigations in the first stages of being set up. Labels on some unopened crates told the story.

Heaped on one side, Titus found almost everything needed to set up a cloning lab, complete with a Ships-Freuden artificial womb-one that could have its every parameter adjusted by microscopic increments. A powerful research tool, and just what would be ordered to clone an alien.

He wondered if the ultra-pure B&J chemicals that had come to him “accidentally” had actually been for this lab.

He searched every nook and cranny that could be a hiding place, touching nothing with his bare hands, fanatically careful not to disturb anything. But either Abbot had already removed his property, or it had never been here.

As he was about to exit through the shower, he turned back to survey the place, and realized it was packed with electronic equipment. Abbot could have hidden anything inside anything. And since he was now the recognized expert in fabricating components, nobody would question him.

Could that be why he helped rebuild the computer? Could he have destroyed it just to get this credential? But Titus couldn’t attribute such infallible foresight to Abbot. His father had erred, and was trying to make the best of it. No doubt he’d had a lot of practice at that in his long life.

Titus left with all the care he’d entered with. Back in the area where he was authorized to be, Titus acknowledged that it was unlikely Abbot had hidden the transmitter or its components too carefully. After all, that would imply that Abbot considered his half-trained son a viable threat.

Possibly, Abbot had planted that false information in Sisi for Titus to find. The computer record of a visit to the sleeper that Abbot had not made would tip him off that Titus had debriefed Sisi as expected. And Abbot would have the last laugh.

Maybe. Titus set off to the gym to try to pick up the trail of the ninja. Then he’d check out Dr. Kuo. If Abbot were planting false trails, it implied there was a true one to be found.

His efforts for the remainder of the time all proved just as fruitless as his visit to the sleeper. The area of the gym housing the centrifuges had been walled off for repairs. But he discovered from one of the dance instructors that parts of the ninja costume had been identified in the waste from the locker rooms.

He spotted Abner Gold and the ebony statue of a weight-lifting instructor, cozily head to head over drinks at one of the bars near the swimming pool. Then he had to dodge a gaggle of reporters on the grand tour. He had no luck discovering what Abbot had been up to while he dallied with Inea and, checking with his own lab, he was told he was not needed. Inea did not answer at her apartment-or his. She’s at work. She wouldn’t let the project down.

Inexorably, his feet carried him to his lab. He had to admit, as he straight-armed the door, that he needed to see her, needed to know she wasn’t still sitting on her bed, white-faced and nearly catatonic.

“What are you doing here?” called Shimon across the lab.

A dozen or so faces turned up to Titus.

He descended among the rows of machines. They’d made enormous progress. The floors were clear of litter, and most of the work stations were buttoned up. “Coat of paint and this place would look almost like new,” Titus commented with his best smile. “You’re all to be congratulated.”

“It works like new,” offered Shimon. “Want to see?”

“I saw some of the reporters over in the gym. They’ll be here soon. You go on with what you’re doing.” But he found no sign of Inea-not even in the observatory. As casually as he could, he asked, “Anyone see Inea?”

Shimon wiped his hands on a towel. “She finished her work, and left with Abbot. He said he’d buy her lunch to celebrate-what’s the matter?”

“Uh,”said Titus.

Discarding the towel, Shimon took Titus’s elbow, steering him to his office. “They said you signed yourself out of the infirmary. Maybe you shouldn’t have. Here, sit-”

Titus repossessed his elbow. “I’m all right. Do you have any idea where they went?”

Shimon cocked his head in an Israeli mannerism which others in the lab had picked up. “Abbot wasn’t after your girl-”

“Don’t get the idea she’s my girl,” commanded Titus with enough Influence to drive it home. “I need to talk to both of them before the press demonstration. Where did they go?”

Mechanically, Shimon said, “Abbot mentioned Segal’s Castle, but I don’t know.”

Titus realized he’d hit Shimon too hard. “Forget I mentioned it.” Titus changed the subject. “Thank you, Shimon. You deserve all the credit for this miracle.” He gestured at the reassembled computers visible through the levelors.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Abbot-”

“Abbot only does what’s easy for him. You’ve surpassed yourself. That won’t go unnoticed.”