“I want the crates sealed back up again and back on the trucks. We will make our rendezvous, and the components we deliver will make a difference. Get to it.”

“A word,” Oscar said quietly as the others returned to the crates.

“What is it?” Adam asked. It was almost rhetorical, he could guess.

“It wasn’t entirely luck we had to unload the cases. The Volvo’s gear box was empty, the oil had all leaked out. One of the seals was loose. The whole thing overheated and seized up.”

“That can’t be right. No problem should be able to grow that big. What about the sensors?”

“Good point,” Oscar said uncomfortably. “I think there was a software overwrite in the drive array. I can’t be sure, of course.”

“And the leak? What caused it?”

“Lot of heat damage from the fire, so again it’s impossible to say with any certainty. But if your lad Jamas was right about getting a proper service, there’s no way any seal should have broken so soon.”

“Damnit.” Adam gave the remaining two trucks a surreptitious glance. “What about them?”

“If this was sabotage, then whoever did it won’t use the same method twice; we’d find it as soon as the first one occurs. I can check them both, of course, but I’d suggest the best thing to do is reboot their arrays from the manufacturer’s software cache. That should wipe out any nasty little overwrite gremlin. And I’ll take a good look at the gear boxes, anyway, if there actually is a design fault with the seals, then a leak should be easy enough to spot.”

“Sure thing. I’ll partner you.” Almost like old times.

“Of course you will.”

By the time they set off, they’d wasted nearly an hour. Rosamund was again driving the lead Volvo, pushing the speed right up to the limit for their rough road conditions. Adam had to okay the use of active sensors to make sure there were no dangerous surprises on the uneven surface. If they drove around the clock, it shouldn’t take more than a day and a half to reach the rendezvous point amid the southern foothills.

Kieran and Oscar had joined Adam in the cab, along with Paula. The Investigator had immediately retired to the little sleep cubicle at the back of the main cabin, her blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders. Adam waited half an hour to make certain there were no urgent problems developing with the Volvos, then picked up a medical kit and slid the slim composite door aside. There was very little room behind it: a twin bunk arrangement on the rear wall, with just enough room for one person to stand in front of them. Lockers under the bottom bunk held their personal supplies.

The air-conditioning vents were blowing out unpleasantly warm air. Adam switched the dim blue light on. Paula sat on the bottom bunk, the blanket still wrapped around her. The way her arm was cocked underneath the gray wool and the lump of her hand made Adam freeze. When he looked into her face he was shocked. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for a week, and she was gaunt, as if her flesh were sweating away. It was an unnervingly abrupt physiological change.

“Christ, what’s happening to you?” he asked as he slid the door shut; somehow he didn’t want the others to see her like this.

A big shiver ran the length of her body, forcing her to grimace. Her sweat-damped hair was stuck to her scalp, barely moving. She just stared at Adam with her delicate eyes sunk into bruise-dark skin. The only thing that never wavered was her weapon under the blanket.

“I’m not here to murder you,” Adam said. Stupid thing to say. He let out a little ironic snort. “Actually, I need your help. You’re the one who’s going to have to work out which of us is the traitor.”

Paula’s compressed mouth lifted in a slight grin. “Suppose it’s me?”

“Oh, come off it.”

“Who better? I’ve been chasing Johansson for a hundred thirty years trying to shut him down.”

“You gave us the Martian data. No matter how much political pressure you were under, you wouldn’t have done that if you’re a Starflyer agent.”

She slid the weapon back into a shoulder holster. “I shouldn’t have done it anyway.”

“I considered it a sign of humanity finally shining through.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“You believe yourself to be nonhuman?”

“Quite the opposite.” Paula eased herself back onto the bunk, wincing more than once before she finally slumped down. “The root of my determination is that I care about people; I protect them. That makes us opposites.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “If that’s true you should be President of the Intersolar Socialist Party. We care about people. We want real social justice for everyone.”

“What justice did you give to Marco Dunbar?”

“Who?”

“Or Nik Montrose, or Jason Levin, or Xanthe Winter.”

“I don’t know any of these people.”

“You should do. You killed them. They were all on the train from StLincoln when it passed through Abadan station.”

Adam clamped his jaw tight as the guilt ran through him like an electrified rapier. “Bitch.”

“Please don’t try and climb onto the moral high ground with your ideological beliefs, or even assume we’re on some kind of equal footing. Both of us know who’s in the right.”

He studied her semicurled-up outline in the faint light as his anger faded. “You really do look like shit. What is the matter with you?”

“Some kind of ET flu. I’ve been on a lot of planets recently; I could have picked it up anywhere.”

“We’ve got some good medical kits with us.” He patted the case he was carrying. “Let me run a diagnostic scan.”

“No. I’m not contagious.”

“Not likely!”

“Drop it, Elvin.”

“You know what you’ve got, don’t you?” He couldn’t think what it would be that made her keep it private.

“Do you want my help, or not?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I could swear the Guardians I brought with me were on the level.”

Paula rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. It made her look very frail. “Start at the beginning; absolute basics. You know you aren’t a Starflyer agent, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Very well. Until you have definite proof of a person’s innocence, you can trust no one in the group.”

“Even you?”

“I told you before, I’ve been trying to stop Johansson for a hundred thirty years. For the purpose of this exercise, you must consider me suspect. I know I’m not, but I cannot physically prove that to you.”

“You’ve got one fucking morbid world view, Investigator, I’ll tell you that for nothing. Go on, how do I rule people out?”

“The sabotage most likely occurred after we joined your group.”

“Yeah. I was involved with packing and loading those crates. It would have been difficult to maser the contents of one back in the warehouse, let alone four.”

“Okay then.” Paula started coughing; her body juddered around on the bunk so alarmingly that Adam started to reach for her to hold her down. She waved his hand away as the coughing subsided. “I’m all right.”

“No you’re not. Jesus, have you been poisoned? Is that it?”

“No. Just give me some water, please.”

Adam found a bottle of mineral water in one of the lockers. It was painful to watch the Investigator trying to swallow; she took such small sips it was like a baby feeding.

“So start with your Guardians,” she said. “Can anyone on this world vouch for them in complete confidence? If not, the Starflyer could have had access to them the way he did with Kazimir McFoster’s friend and murderer.”

“Bruce. Damnit, yes, I’ll try and check; but the only link we’ve got is a short wave, don’t forget, it’s not exactly secure. Even then, who can vouch for every minute of someone’s life?”

“I know. As for the navy arrest team, they come from the same Paris office as Tarlo, who was corrupted several years ago. If the Starflyer can get Tarlo, then in theory it could get to anyone there.”