There were five people making up the executive of Ayacucho’s partizan group. In keeping with the movement’s deterioration none of them followed the kind of security procedures they had obeyed so rigorously in the early days. That sloppiness in conjunction with an encyclopedic knowledge of their daily activity patterns allowed the Edenists to position spiders where they could provide a comprehensive coverage of the leadership’s movements in the hours leading up to the meeting.

Samuel and the voidhawks were presented with eyeblink pictures of the partizan leaders making their way through the asteroid. Respectable middle-age professionals now, they all had escorts of bodyguards, keen for any sign of trouble. These entourages were unmistakable, making them easy to follow.

“It looks like either level three or four in section twelve,” Samuel told Monica.

She datavised her processor block for a schematic of the asteroid. “It’s all offices there, corporate country. That makes sense, it’s more secure, and they are all rich. It wouldn’t be suspicious for them to be there together.”

“Unfortunately it makes life complicated for us. We’re having trouble infiltrating that area.” He was watching an inverted image of Ikela walking along a corridor at the centre of five boosted bodyguards. They were approaching a junction. A fast check with the voidhawks revealed that there were no more spiders left ahead. He ordered the one he was using to scuttle along the ceiling after Ikela.

There are UV lights ahead,a voidhawk warned. The spider is approaching a grade-five clean environment.

I know, but I need to see which way he turns.it was a strange viewpoint; to Samuel the corridor wasn’t particularly large, to the spider it was vast. The two visual interpretations tended to clash confusingly inside Samuel’s cortex unless he maintained a high level of concentration. Drab whiteness slid smoothly past galloping legs. Far above him was the sky of hazel carpet. Footsteps crashed against the spider’s pressure-sensitive cells. Stalactite mountains clad in expensive black silk marched on in front of the racing arachnid, becoming difficult to resolve as they approached the fork. He just needed a hint . . .

The affinity link vanished amid a violet flash. Damnation! A further review showed Samuel no spiders had managed to penetrate the area.

“What is it?” Monica asked as he flinched in annoyance.

“We just lost them.”

“So now what?”

He looked around at the other agents in the office suite. “Kit up and move out. We’ll cover as many approaches as we can. Monica, are you sure your asset is reliable?”

“Don’t fret; we’ve got him hoisted by the short and curlies. He won’t be able to datavise during the meeting, but as soon as it’s over we’ll know where it was and if she’s there. Did any of your infiltration systems see her going in?”

“No,” he admitted. “Not even a fifty per cent characteristics match.”

“I’m not surprised.”

The Edenist agents were putting on slim equipment belts and strapping up shoulder holsters. Monica checked her own maser pistol and ran a diagnostic program through her implants.

“Monica,” Samuel said.

She caught the tone. “I know: I’m not in your command network, I’d be in the way if I try to front-line. It’s all yours, Samuel.”

“Thank you.” Stand by,he told the voidhawks waiting on the docking ledge, if we do grab her we’ll need to exit fast.he led the team out.

There were only five people in the Tunja system who knew the real reason for forming the Garissan partizan movement. None of them lived on the same asteroid, so that if disaster did strike the others would be there to carry on with the plan.

In Ayacucho it was Ikela, the nominal head of the original five. It suited him to be one of the partizan group’s executives rather than the leader. This way he kept up-to-date on the movement’s activities while staying out of the limelight. His position was due principally to his financial support rather than any active participation. Again, according to plan.

Dan Malindi, the Ayacucho group’s leader, was the first to arrive at the secure conference office of Laxa and Ahmad, the legal firm they were using as cover. He gave Ikela a puzzled, vaguely annoyed glance as he entered. No one knew why Ikela had demanded the meeting at seven hours notice. And the executives weren’t people used to being kept in ignorance, not by one of their own. The sight of the normally composed industrialist sitting mutely at the table looking as if he were suffering some kind of fever with the way he was sweating did nothing to ease the tension.

Kaliua Lamu was the second to arrive; a financier who made little secret about his growing ambivalence to the movement. Partizan membership didn’t sit well alongside his newfound respectability.

Feira Ile and Cabral arrived together, the most senior ranking figures in the Dorados administration. Feira Ile had been an admiral in the Garissan navy and was now Ayacucho’s SD chief, while Cabral had built himself the largest media group in the Dorados. His company’s growth and popularity were due to the tabloid nationalism of its editorial policy, which made him a natural choice for the partizans. Most of the executive staff suspected his support was strictly for appearance sake.

Bodyguards and assistants left the room. Dan Malindi glared at the small woman sitting quietly behind Ikela, who obstinately refused to be intimidated into moving.

“She’s with me,” Ikela said.

Dan Malindi grunted in dissatisfaction and activated the office’s security screen. “All right, Ikela, what the hell is this about?”

Ikela gave the woman a respectful gesture, and she stood up, walking to the end of the table opposite Dan Malindi. “My name is Dr Alkad Mzu, I’m here to finish our war with Omuta.”

Dan Malindi and Kaliua Lamu both gave her a nonplussed glance. Cabral frowned, ordering a neural nanonics file search. But it was Feira Ile who produced the strongest reaction; he half rose to his feet, openly astonished. “The Alchemist,” he murmured. “You built the Alchemist. Holy Mary.”

“The what?” Cabral asked.

“The Alchemist,” Alkad told them. “It was our superweapon. I was its designer.”

“Feira?” Cabral prompted.

“She’s right,” the old ex-admiral said. “I was never given any details, the project was classified way above my security rating. But the navy built this . . . thing, whatever it is, just before the genocide. We were going to use it against Omuta.” He drew a long breath and looked at the diminutive physicist. “What happened?”

“Our flight was intercepted by blackhawks hired by Omuta,” Alkad said. “We never got there. The Alchemist was never used.”

“No way,” Dan Malindi said. “This is complete bullshit. You appear on the scene thirty years after the event and spin some crap about a missing legend you heard about in some bar. I bet the next stage is asking us for money to search for this Alchemist. In fact, I bet it’s going to take a lot of money to find it, right?” He was sneering contemptuously at her when he finished, but somehow her cold smile managed to rob his anger.

“I don’t need to search. I know exactly where it is.”

“It wasn’t lost?” Kaliua Lamu asked. His enthusiasm bought him a disgusted look from Dan Malindi.

“No, it’s never been lost. It’s been kept safe.”

“Where?”

Alkad merely smiled.

“Maybe it does exist,” Cabral said. “And our illustrious admiral here was right saying someone called Alkad Mzu built it. How do we know you’re her? We can’t make the decisions we need to make on the word of some stranger who turns up out of the blue, especially not at this precise time.”

Alkad raised an eyebrow. “Captain?”

“I can vouch for her,” Ikela said softly. “This is Dr Alkad Mzu.”