“Jim?”

“ ‘Fraid not, Chief,” Tarlo’s voice boomed through the bedlam. A plasma carbine was lowered. Its muzzle stopped five centimeters from Alic’s face.

“Fuck you, traitor,” he snarled.

A grenade went off right beside them, flinging both of them through the air amid a cloud of soil and tree fragments. Alic crashed into a tree trunk two meters above the ground and dropped like a stone. His force field was flickering around him on the verge of total breakdown, allowing overheated air to slide excruciatingly over injured flesh; green virtual vision text turned into random horizontal squiggles against the orange inferno. Through a haze of pain he saw the smoking black lump that was the Agent’s head, still rolling along the steaming ground away from him.

Tarlo was walking toward it. Alic tried to get up. His left side was completely numb. “Yan! Jim! Somebody help!”

Tarlo picked up the head. His suit’s jetpack spat out two spears of near-invisible blue flame, and he rose into the glaring conflagration that was consuming the jungle canopy. A cascade of huge blue and white sparks plummeted down in his wake.

“Vic, shoot him, just shoot him out of the sky, don’t let him take it, his memorycell’s in there. Vic, it’s Tarlo. Vic?” His voice fell to a whimper. He rolled onto his back, and pointed his ion pistol into the falling plume of sparks where Tarlo had vanished, ready to blast away. But there was only his empty hand, skin torn and bleeding, two fingers bent back where the knuckles had been broken. “I’ll find you,” he rasped at the swarming flames as the heat beat against him. “I will find you, fucker.”

***

Mellanie made it up to the Saffron Clinic’s third floor before she noticed something was wrong. The scrutineer programs she’d so carefully infiltrated into the arrays on the two floors below her were no longer responding. In fact, the whole of the net on those two floors was now dark.

She stopped and reviewed the tiny amount of data she could access. So far she’d only infiltrated three arrays on this floor, and her programs weren’t telling her anything. The clinic net certainly hadn’t issued any alarm, which was very strange. Management programs must have noticed the dropout. Not that she could query them.

So far she’d only passed a couple of staff on the evening shift, technicians in deep conversation. They hadn’t paid her any attention. The nurse’s uniform she’d put on was like wearing a stealth suit. There was nobody else in the corridor; she checked along it, uncertain what to do next. One of the rooms she wanted was right at the far end, barely thirty meters away.

Sections of the net on this floor started to drop out. “Damnit,” she hissed. Someone else must be infiltrating the clinic’s electronics, and they were a lot better at it than she was. They were shutting the whole place down one processor at a time.

There was a stairwell three meters behind her. Mellanie gave the Nicholas suite at the far end one last longing glance. She was so near…one of the lawyers was on the other side of the door. But it could well be Alessandra’s newest set of goons creeping up through the clinic. And if they knew she was here, they would have told the lawyers.

Why would anyone working for Alessandra have to creep around? They’re all on the same side.

Mellanie hurried back to the stairwell door. She pushed at the release bar. There was no alarm; all the circuitry around it was dead. It swung open to reveal a vast source of electromagnetic energy in the stairwell. Mellanie let out a shocked gasp as an armor-suited figure pointed a gun at her forehead.

“Do not move,” it said quietly. The voice was male. “Do not shout or attempt to alert anyone that we are here.”

Mellanie manufactured some tears—it wasn’t hard. “Please don’t shoot.” Her legs were shaking. A second armored figure slipped around the first, quickly followed by five more.

If they’re Alessandra’s, she’s really taking no chances.

“Turn around,” the suited man said. “Put your hands behind your back, cross the wrists.”

The armored suits were moving along the corridor. Mellanie had no idea suits that heavy and big could move so quietly. Then a thin plastic cord tightened around her wrists. “Ow!”

“Quiet, or I will use a nervejam.”

She was half sure her inserts could deflect that. But she’d have to activate them—and even if she did get the sequence right, then what? “Sorry,” she whispered.

“In here.” She was pulled into the stairwell.

“Name?”

“Er…Lalage Vere, I’m a nurse in the dermal specialist unit.” She felt something being pressed to her hand.

“The name’s on file, but she doesn’t match the clinic biometric.”

“She wouldn’t,” said a female voice.

Mellanie knew who that belonged to. Even as she let out a long breath of relief she couldn’t help wincing. A hard gauntlet was placed on her shoulder, turning her around. There were about ten more armored people in the stairwell, one of them markedly shorter than the others. “Good evening, Mellanie,” the small suit said.

“Oh, good evening, Investigator Myo. Fancy seeing you here.” It was bravado; she was trying not to sulk at how swiftly Paula had seen past her dark hair and freckles.

“We found the chief janitor downstairs,” Paula said. “He was tied to a bench in the locker room; not that there was any need—he’s got so much narcotic in his blood he doesn’t know which universe he’s in.”

“Really? And they let people like that work here? I’m astonished.”

“I’m more interested why you’re here, Mellanie.”

“Reporting was getting kind of hectic. I fancied a change of profession.”

“Mellanie, people’s lives are at stake here tonight. A lot of lives. I will ask once more, why are you here?”

Mellanie sighed. There really was no way out. “I’ve tracked down the lawyers. All right? It’s not a crime. They’re the criminals, and we both know what they did wrong.”

“You mean Seaton, Daltra, and Pomanskie?”

“Yes.”

“They’re here?”

“Duh. Yes. I just said.”

“When did they arrive?”

“Didn’t you know?” Mellanie said smugly. “They’ve been here receiving treatments more or less since they went on the lam from New York.”

“What sort of treatments? Have they received weapons wetwiring?”

“I’m not sure, you interrupted me. The new DNA thing, I suppose. It wasn’t cheap, whatever they got.”

“Which rooms are they in?”

“One’s in the Nicholas suite, on this floor; the other two are sharing the Fenay suite on the fifth floor.”

“Okay, thank you, we’ll take it from here, Mellanie.”

“What! You can’t just—”

“Grogan, take her down to Renne.”

Gauntlets grabbed her upper arm, metal fingers closing painfully. “Yow! Hey, I found them, you could at least let me cover the arrest for my report.”

“I’d advise against it. This is not a safe environment.”

“I was doing fine until you blundered in.” She paused. If Myo hadn’t known the lawyers were in the clinic, what…?

Grogan pulled her toward the stairs. The suit was too strong for Mellanie to resist. “You’ve got to give me something, Myo.”

“We’ll talk later. A long talk.”

Mellanie didn’t like the sound of that.

“Tactical update,” Paula informed the arrest teams. “We now have three more confirmed hostiles on site in addition to Bernadette. Possible locations: one in the Nicholas suite, two in the Fenay. Be advised, there could be more. This appears to be where Starflyer agents receive their wetwiring.”

The map in her virtual vision displayed the positions of the armor suits. She quickly adapted their interdiction roles, assigning three members to each lawyer.

“Hoshe, can you review the arrays we’ve sequestered? I’d like to confirm what Mellanie told us.”

“We’re working on it now. I didn’t know she was that good.”