"Oh, hell, she couldn't even keep her goddamned password a secret. How many other charges did this thief run up against my account?" He found several additional entries, neatly itemized by subject matter and data source as well as computer time logged onto the mainframe. Each one post-dated Margo's precipitous departure through Primary.

Kit slid the bill angrily to one side of his desk. Unless he could locate the access-code pirate, he'd be stuck for one helluva research bill. He switched computer screens, typing out a simple monitoring program to set off an alarm the next time Margo's access code was entered into the system, then e-mailed messages to Brian Hendrickson and Mike Benson, alerting them to the fact that data piracy was occurring.

Then he called Bull Morgan.

"What's up, Kit?"

"We've got a data pirate loose on the station. Someone's used Margo's access code to bill research to my account."

"I'll make a note of it. You're sure it's an account pirate?"

"Margo left a week before the first incident. Went up Primary to God alone knows where. Or when."

Bull sympathized. "I'll do some checking, put Mike Benson on it."

"I've already e-mailed him about it and Brian Hendrickson, too. Thanks, Bull."

He hung up and glared at everything in sight. Then sighed, resigned himself to a long day, and settled resolutely to work again. When the phone rang less than a quarter of an hour later, he cradled the receiver between shoulder and ear.

"Yeah, Kit here."

"Kit, it's Bull."

He sat back in his chair, faintly surprised. "Damn, I knew you were efficient, but I didn't expect you to catch the rat this fast."

Bull chuckled. "We haven't. But I did turn up something odd. I thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Margo passed through Primary, all right. Then she came back about a week later."

He sat straight up. "What?"

"She came back, but hasn't logged out again. Medical hasn't out-processed her records, the ATF has no trace of her leaving a second time through Customs..."

"But!" He closed his mouth again. "What about other gates?"

"Mike's working on it. Hang on a sec."

Kit waited in a sweat. Then Bull came back on. "No, she didn't log out through any of the other gates, either. Not the tourist ones, anyway, and nobody's filed paperwork to scout the unknown gates off Commons."

"Bull, she has to be somewhere. La-La Land's a closed environment."

A brief silence greeted him. "Kit, there are unstable gates."

He shut his eyes. "No. Not even Margo's that stupid. She was scared spitless of the Nexus Gate and after Orleans ..."

"Well, she's still here somewhere, then, avoiding you."

"For seven weeks? La-La Land isn't that big. Besides, Margo couldn't stay out of trouble for seven minutes, never mind seven weeks. If she were here, somebody would've seen her. She's not on the station." He thought hard. "Do me a favor, would you? See if anyone else is missing? I'll start asking around on my own, see what I can scare up. Maybe a small gate opened up somewhere we don't know about. Or maybe somebody went through one of the unexplored gates without permission." It'd be just like that little idiot to pull a stunt like that.

"Sure thing, Kit. I'll run some checks and let you know."

"Thanks."

Kit hung up and said several biting things to the withered-sea landscape garden, then started placing phone calls.

Kit didn't have much luck. Nobody he talked to had heard a whisper about an unknown gate. A couple of down timers who worked as Time Tours baggage handlers recalled seeing Margo return through Primary, but they had no idea where she'd gone afterward. Kit's granddaughter had managed to vanish without a trace from the heart of one of the most gossip-riddled communities in the world.

Then, when he least expected it, Malcolm Moore showed up.

The younger man had avoided Kit's company for eight full weeks. If Kit arrived someplace and Malcolm was already there, he made excuses to leave within moments. He turned down casual invitations to the Down Time for dinner and had become in general a hard-working recluse. Kit felt sorry for him. Clearly, Malcolm had taken Margo's rebellion and defection deeply to heart, blaming himself entirely. Kit had tried to apologize, to tell him it wasn't his fault, but Malcolm wasn't returning Kit's e-mail or phone calls, either.

When the buzzer on his desk lit up and Jimmy told him Malcolm was headed up, Kit actually sagged in his chair.

"Thank God..."

He hated to lose friends.

A hesitant knock at the door signaled Malcolm's arrival.

"Come in, it's open."

The door slid back, Japanese style. Malcolm Moore glanced into the spacious office. He looked massively uncomfortable. -Uh ... you busy, Kit?"

Something in Malcolms eyes told Kit he hoped the answer would be "yes."

"No. Come on in."

Malcolm sighed, then slipped off his shoes and entered. His posture told Kit he'd rather have faced the hangman.

"I, uh ..." He faltered to a halt, staring at the floor, the walls, anywhere but at Kit.

"Malcolm, it wasn't your fault. She's a headstrong little hellion. It wasn't your fault."

A deep flush darkened the guide's cheeks. "You don't have to be nice about it, Kit. You weren't there." He shoved hands into his pockets, then paced uneasily toward the withered-sea landscape garden, leaving his back to Kit. There were holes in the toes of his socks and both heels were threadbare.

"I, uh, heard she came back. Then vanished.

"Yes," Kit said quietly. "Do you have any ideas at all?"

Malcolm halted. For just an instant his shoulders drooped. "No." Then he straightened his back again. "But I heard something odd this morning. I thought you ought to know. You know, just in case..."

"Park 'em. Talk."

Malcolm hesitated, then took the chair. But he still wouldn't meet Kit's eyes. "I was down in the gym working out. Ripley Sneed came in."

"Ripley? Where the hell has he been keeping himself? I haven't seen him in months."

Malcolm grimaced. "Went down an unknown gate and damn near didn't come back. Had some pretty wild stories to tell. Anyway, I mentioned you'd been asking about unknown gates anybody had explored recently. He said he'd gone through one a couple of months back, but it was completely worthless."

Kit frowned. "What gate? Where?"

Malcolm rubbed the fingers of one hand. "He said it opened in the back of Phil Jones' store."

"Phil Jones? Isn't he the nut who goes down time and rescues totem poles?"

"Yeah, that's the one. His shop gives me the creeps. Phil gives me the creeps. Anyway, Ripley said a small gate opened up in his storeroom. He went through, logged it, came back, told Phil the gate was useless.

"Why was it worthless? Where and when did it go?"

Malcolm glanced at his hands, pretending to inspect his fingernails. "He wouldn't say."

Kit tightened his hands down around the edge of his desk. "Ripley Sneed always was a goddamned bastard How much did he want?"

Malcolm sighed unhappily and finally met Kit's gaze. "A thousand."

"A thousand dollars? To tell me where a worthless gate leads?" Kit swore savagely. "Where is that miserly little prick now?"

"The Down Time. He's telling everyone about his adventures in the sultan's harem."

Kit rolled his eyes. "Good God. What an idiot. Okay, Malcolm. Thanks. Maybe this'll be worth it. God knows I haven't had any other clues worth following. I'm afraid she's wandered through one of the question gates without filing proper paperwork with Bull and if she's done that..."

Malcolm nodded. "You may be right." He hesitated. "Margo ... Well, she wasn't in any mood to wait any longer. Something awful happened to that kid before she came here. I'm not sure who she's trying to prove herself to, but it's riding her harder than we ever did."