“You still sure you want to do this?” he asked yet again.

“What do you think they’ll do to us if we get caught?”

“Work farm for several months. Probably a couple of days in the cube.” The cube was a transparent cell located in a public place, so that everyone who knew a convicted criminal could observe the sad state to which he or she had fallen. Relatives, family members, and friends were all notified, and they could come in person or watch the humiliation from their living rooms. It was, she thought, a particularly cruel mode of punishment for a supposedly enlightened society.

She could see the headlines:

They approached the front entrance and turned right onto a pathway that circled the building. “There’s no point in both of us going in,” said Kim. “I know what I’m looking for. Why don’t you wait outside? I mean, we’re—”

“—I’ve come this far,” said Solly. “You may need me.”

They turned off at a secondary entrance, climbed a ramp, and stood before a glass door. Inside, a corridor was lined with offices.

The reader clicked open and a line of instructions appeared:

Kim glanced around to be sure no one was watching. She took the container from her pocket, lifted out the glove, slipped it on, pulled it tight, and showed it to Solly.

“Perfect,” he said.

She placed her fingertips on the designated spot. The lock clicked and the door opened. She and Solly stepped inside, and the door slid shut behind them.

The corridor was long and shadowy, lined with doors, its high ceiling gray and in need of repairs. The doors were translucent. Digital numbers and designators blinked on as they approached to identify what lay behind each. They passed Standards, Personnel, General Maintenance, Scheduling, Security, Special Operations.

No one else seemed to be in the building. “There are only nine or ten employees in the whole place,” said Solly. “During regular work hours.”

“The assistant commissioners.”

“Right. And a few directors. And systems analysts. Everybody has a title. All the routine work is automated. As far as I could determine, nobody hangs around after closing time.”

It was of course the cue for contradiction. They’d gone only a few meters farther when a lock clicked behind them, in the direction of Freedom Hall. They watched an office door open. A man in a green worksuit stepped into view and looked curiously at them.

Kim felt her heart stop. Her natural impulse was to bolt.

“Walk naturally,” whispered Solly, taking her firmly by the arm, inspecting one of the designators, nodding as if he’d found what he wanted, and turning directly toward the worker.

The man frowned. He was olive-skinned, with wide shoulders, and an expression that suggested he’d been having a difficult afternoon.

“Hello,” he said. “Can I help you?”

Solly waved an ID in his general direction. “Security check,” he said. “Everything quiet here?”

“Far as I know.”

“Good.” Solly glanced meaningfully at one of the office doors. “Thanks.” He pushed gently against it and nodded his satisfaction that it didn’t open. Kim took the hint and tried one on the other side of the corridor. They proceeded past the man in the worksuit, and strolled down the passageway, continuing the process of periodically testing offices.

He watched them until they reached a cross corridor and turned out of his field of view. “What do you think, Solly?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we were very smooth.” They listened for footsteps. When they heard none, she peeked around the corner and saw that he was letting himself out of the building. “I think we’re clear,” she said.

Solly consulted his notes and led her down to the next cross passage and turned left. They came to a section marked RECORDS, and found a door whose designator read,

Solly produced a batch of universal keys in a wallet. They were plastic chips, each coded to fit numerous interior locks then in service. He had to try four or five in the dex before the lock moved and the door opened.

“You’d have made a good burglar,” she told him.

He looked pleased. “They just don’t worry about break-ins. Not back here. Out front, where the Instrument is, yes. If a mosquito gets in, alarms go off, guards come running, the doors come down. But back here, it’s a whole different game. Nobody cares about old files.”

They went in and closed the door behind them.

It was a cubbyhole. A small window looked out into a tiny courtyard. Kim sat down at the lone terminal and brought up the menu. She needed less than two minutes to locate EIV 4471886 Hunter, Arrival Date 30 March 573, Command Log.

“Got it,” she said. She inserted a disk and instructed the computer to download.

Solly held a finger to his lips. Footsteps outside. He moved behind the door so he’d be out of sight if anyone looked in. Kim scrunched down behind the desk.

Voices.

Two people, talking, and then laughing. They moved on.

Kim was surprised to discover a sense of elation. She squeezed Solly’s shoulder. “What?” he asked.

“We should do more of this,” she said.

Sheyel adjusted the cushions in his dragon chair. “Kim, it’s good to hear from you. Do you have news?”

“Probably not. I wanted to thank you for tracking down Yoshi’s shoe size.”

“It was nothing. Now will you tell me why you asked?”

“We found a grip shoe at Kile’s villa. Fits the size.”

“Oh?”

“That’s all we have for the moment. And it probably doesn’t mean anything.”

He was silent.

“I need more information.”

“Of course. If I have it.”

“Was there anything artificial about Yoshi’s body? Anything that a sensor might detect?”

His eyes slid shut. “I don’t think so.”

“Any kind of artificial enhancement, maybe? Or something that had been repaired?”

“No,” he said. “Nothing that I know about. She had an accident once playing wraparound. Had to get a couple of her teeth capped.”

“I don’t think there’s anything there we can use. Okay, Sheyel. I’ll see if I can find another way. In the meantime, if you think of anything, give me a call.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Kim. I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

She switched off, poured herself a drink, glanced at a code she’d written on a piece of paper, and punched it in.

“Hello?” Mike Plymouth’s voice. She left the visual off.

“Hi, Mike.” She made her voice as soft as she could.

“Hello, Kay. I thought I’d hear from you.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I can’t make it tonight.”

“Oh. Well—You are all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“Another night, maybe?”

She’d pushed Solly out of the room. Now she wished he were there. “I don’t think so. There’s really no point.”

“Oh.” He was fumbling for something to say. Something to retrieve the situation. Or save his pride.

“I’m sorry.” She thought about making up a story. Something to spare his feelings. I’m already committed. I was cheating yesterday. But she let it pass. “I’m just really tied up right now.”

“I understand.” The room grew still. “Goodbye, Kay.” Then he was off the line and she was staring at the link.

“Goodbye, Mike,” she said.

They arranged to have the hotel deliver some cheese and wine and settled back to watch the Hunter logs. Kim put the disk into the reader, set it for the screen, sampled the cheese, and turned to Solly. “Ready?” she asked.