“Yes,” she said, “I knew Kile was back. He called me from the house. In the past, he’d usually spent a few days in Terminal City after completing a flight. He’d get together with people from the Foundation to review the mission. And probably to celebrate a little bit. That’s how he was. He liked people, and he had a lot of friends. Pity he didn’t do it this time; he wouldn’t have been there when the mountain blew up.”

“You went first to your son’s home?” Kim asked.

“Of course.”

“Had it been damaged?”

“There was some water damage. They were wetting everything down. But other than that, no. The villa came through intact.”

“But it was empty?”

“Oh yes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He was gone. Poor Kile. They never did find him.” Her eyes clouded. “His flyer was gone too. He must have been in the air, somewhere near the explosion. He used to do that, fly up into the mountains to relax.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Baines.” Kim watched her check her blouse, looking for something to adjust. The blouse was green, embroidered with a white design suggesting musical notes. Quite pretty, really.

“It’s all right. It’s been a long time.” She dabbed her eyes.

For the first time in her adult life, Kim saw that she was being cruel. But she pressed ahead. “I wonder if you’d care to tell me what you were thinking, and feeling, when you first went into the villa.”

“I’m sure you can guess, Ms. Braddock.”

“You were frightened.”

“Of course.”

“Did you find anything that suggested where he might have gone?”

“No.”

“Anything unusual at all?”

Sara shot her a suspicious glance. “No,” she said. “Considering what was happening outside, the villa was quite normal. Save that my son was missing.”

“This was how long after the explosion?”

“Two hours, I guess. No more than that. Emergency teams were still arriving.” She paused, shook her head. “These things happen,” she said. “He was a good son. He had a lot to offer.”

“Mrs. Baines, did you notice whether he’d left any notes or records about the mission? Anything that would help—” She stumbled, unsure how to proceed.

Sara’s face hardened. “—I’ve heard all the rumors, Ms. Braddock. I can assure you if anything out of the ordinary had happened out there, I’d have been first to know. There was nothing connected with the flight in the house. At least nothing that I saw. No records. No visuals. Nothing”

“I see.”

“I’m glad you do.” She had recognized Kim’s ulterior purpose, but she hadn’t really taken offense. “When it was over I tried to sell the villa. But I was asking for too much in the beginning, and the chance to get rid of it passed. After a while I couldn’t give it away. Eventually I donated it to a religious group. I understand they still hold the title. Waiting for the valley to come back, I suppose.”

“You must have salvaged his belongings.”

“His books. A few other things. I gave some of the furniture away. But I left most of it.” She grew pensive. “There was a sculpture of a couple of hawks that I knew Mara would like—”

“Mara?”

“Benton’s mother. And I kept a lamp. I’d given it to Kile for his birthday. And a set of bookends and a model starship for Ben.”

“The Valiant,” Kim said.

“Yes. How did you know?”

Kim smiled as a wild thought struck her. Why would anybody manufacture a model of a starship and forget to include the propulsion tubes? Was it possible that Tripley had taken a set of visuals of a strange spacecraft? Had used the visuals to build a scaled-down replica? It would be a delicious irony if Tripley was sitting there with the big secret propped up on his bookshelf, staring him in the face. “I have a passing acquaintance with Ben,” she said sympathetically. “I know the model meant a lot to him.”

“Yes.” Sara’s eyes were wet. “That’s really all there was. Not much left out of a lifetime.”

Kim wanted to ask flat out whether she’d seen any evidence that Yoshi had been there, any indication of a woman staying at the villa. But she could think of no way to do it without alienating her. Sara would not have admitted to any such thing anyhow. “Thank you, Mrs. Baines,” she said at last.

“What’s the title going to be?” Sara asked.

“Of what?”

“Of your book?”

“Oh.” She thought it over. “Aftermath.”

“You will be sure to send me a copy, won’t you?”

“Yes,” said Kim. “I’ll be pleased to do that.”

The National Archives was located at Kaydon Center in Salonika, the capital of the Republic, in the lake country 120 kilometers west of Seabright. Salonika was a trophy city, a showplace of skywalks and fountains and marble monuments commemorating the history of Greenway. Here was George Patkin proclaiming the birth of the Republic. And there was Millicent Hodge turning the first batch of salmon loose into what would later be known as Lake Makor. And in Liberty Green, the onetime astronomer Shepard Pappadopoulo, for whom Kim’s household intelligence was named, launches a missile against Henry Hox, the dictator’s son, at the battle of the Twin Rivers.

The Archives was a long, two-story utilitarian structure, fronted by a mall and a reflecting pool. The pool was surrounded by spruce trees. Walkways curved through the manicured grounds, and broad marble steps led up to the main entrance, which was guarded by a statue of Erik Kaydon, the first premier.

Kim sighed and looked once again at the picture of her target. Manville Plymouth, Assistant Commissioner for Transportation Records. Since Plymouth knew Solly, it was up to her to do the dirty work.

She was wearing a silver wig and contact lenses to change her eye color.

At the end of the day, he always comes out through Freedom Hall, Solly had told her. Solly had looked uncomfortable during the preparations, had used the term obsessed several times. Had urged her to think about what she was doing. Had suggested she think of their careers, both of which were being put at risk. Had even threatened to walk away from it all. That would have left her without much chance of success, and he knew that. In the end, when he was convinced that she’d try no matter what, he’d stuck with her.

Freedom Hall was actually the structure’s central rotunda. Here were the great documents of the Republic: the Instrument of Individual Rights, which denied the absolute power of Gregory Hox, the fourth and last in the line of dictators; the Articles of Governance, which established the mechanisms of government and defined the rights and duties of citizens; Joseph Albright’s Statement at Canbury, which, in the darkest days of the revolution, gave new fire to the rebels.

There were numerous other journals, letters, diaries, and artifacts from the 327 year history of the Republic: Stanfield welcoming Brodeur when Earth lifted its century-long embargo; Amahl’s handwritten notes detailing the sacrifices of the doctors at Dubois; the captain’s logs from the Regal, the Republic’s first interstellar vessel.

Kim casually circled the gallery, pretending to study the objects in the illuminated cases.

The Hall, Solly had said, was the only place in the building where they have serious security. Surveillance here was round-the-clock. But the routine nongovernment records were kept in the east wing. They’d never had any kind of problem, so they didn’t worry much about thieves. But you have to get into it. And to do that, a scanner has to identify your DNA and then approve admission.

That was where Manville Plymouth came in.

She waited only a few minutes before the man himself appeared from the east wing and entered the Hall. He closed the door behind him and walked briskly across the rotunda, glancing neither right nor left. She checked her picture again to be sure, and fell in behind him, following him out onto Republic Avenue.