And she said the usual things, it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but these things have a way of getting out, and they needed to concentrate on security, and so on.

He gave up, and informed her he’d pared the list of potential researchers to six.

“Three at most,” she insisted, knowing even that was too many.

They agreed that no feelers would go out until the lab was available.

After he’d disconnected she sat for a while studying the Kane print, Storm Warning. It was an ominous landscape, ruined towers in the distance, oncoming thunderheads.

She ran through the Selby script several times before she was satisfied. Then she downloaded it into a compupak, had dinner, and went for a long walk in the twilight. The tides on Greenway did not share the rhythmic aspect they would have had under a single satellite. These were up and down all the time, pulled constantly in different directions by Helios and the four moons.

They were at extreme low tide, the ocean far out, more beach exposed than would usually be visible in a month’s time. She strolled along the water’s edge, letting the waves wash over her feet, watching the stars appear. They looked far away and she wondered again how anything capable of mastering those immense distances could behave so irrationally. Yet there had been the war with Pacifica.

Such things could happen apparently. The people who devised physical theory and constructed jump engines were not the same people who made political decisions, or who allowed themselves to be swept up by the current media craze, or to be ruled by centuries-old traditions that might once have served to hold nations together but had now become counterproductive.

Don’t assume that a species is intelligent because it produces intelligent individuals. Brandywine’s Corollary.

Maybe in the end she’d be remembered for some such principle rather than the discovery of the Valiant. She smiled and decided she’d be willing to settle for that.

The next morning she flew over to Bayside Park where she could use a private commbooth, ensuring that even if things went wrong no one would be able to track her down.

The booth was located in a mall along a gravel walkway off the ocean. It was still early in the season, and there were few people abroad: a few university students between classes, some locals taking their constitutionals. No tourists yet. The morning was bright and cloudless, and the air still cool, with a crisp wind coming inshore.

She tied in the Selby program and punched in Tora’s number.

The link chimed at the other end.

A couple of kids with balloons chased one another through the mall. She watched the long lines of breakers moving toward the beach.

“Hello?” Tora’s voice, audio only.

“Dr. Kane?” It was Kim who spoke, but Tora would be hearing the voice she’d constructed for Selby. “My name is Gabriel Martin. I was your father’s lawyer some years ago.”

Kim got a picture. Tora was wearing a light blue shirt and baggy blue slacks. Working clothes. She looked puzzled. “What can I do for you, Mr. Martin?”

Kim sent Selby’s image and the construct lawyer, she knew, now materialized in Tora’s projection area. He was a tall, aristocratic figure. “Doctor, let me say first that Markis was a close friend, as well as a client. I owe him a considerable obligation. I won’t go into that at the moment; the details don’t really matter.

“Unfortunately, I can no longer do anything for him, God rest his soul. But I am in a position to pass along some information that you might find useful.”

God rest his soul. That had sounded pretty good when she inserted it. Real lawyer talk to clients. But it sounded so artificial now that she bit her lip and waited to see whether Tora would recognize the charade. She didn’t.

“I appreciate the thought, Mr. Martin. And what information would that be?”

To Tora, the lawyer stood beside an expanse of desktop, covered with disks, pens, and a fat notebook. His wall showed a series of beribboned certificates, plaques, and a picture of Martin shaking hands with the premier himself. “I don’t know exactly how to put this, Doctor, because it’s only rumor, but I have it on quite reliable sources.”

Tora waited for him to come to the point.

Kim stretched the moment out by having Martin advise her that the information he was about to pass on was confidential, and that if she repeated it he would have no choice but to deny everything and to withdraw from any further participation in the proceedings.

“Yes,” she said, her impatience starting to show. “Quite so. So what is this about?”

“I understand the government has acquired the Hunter logs. The real ones.”

Tora paled and then recovered herself. “I don’t know anything about it,” she said. “What real logs? I understood the logs were filed in the Archives years ago.”

“Dr. Kane.” Kim allowed herself to sound simultaneously sympathetic and well informed. “I understand your reluctance to discuss this. We are after all talking about violations of law, are we not? Violations to which you have been party.”

“I beg your pardon.” Her tone got cold. She had to be wondering just how much her caller knew, and probably more to the point, how much the government had.

“It’s quite all right,” Kim continued, in Martin’s persona. “This information came to me because your father had friends at the highest levels. There are those who don’t want to see more damage done to his reputation, nor any harm come to his daughter, nor see his estate embroiled in extensive litigation, as could be the case if certain charges could be shown to have validity. Or even if sufficient doubt could be raised concerning his role in the Mount Hope incident, and possibly in the deaths of Yoshi Amara and Emily Brandywine. I know you were your father’s sole heir. And you should be aware that whatever monies or tangible goods you received out of the estate could be attached in any adverse judgment.”

She looked cornered. Kim also squirmed under a sudden assault of conscience. But she told herself there was no other way. The woman could have avoided all this by cooperating. “Even at this late date?” asked Tora. “Isn’t there a statute of limitations?”

“I’m afraid not. In a case of this type, in which lives have been lost and deliberate falsifications made to cover up responsibility—” He shook his head sadly. Kim had no idea whether that was true, but it didn’t matter. Tora was buying it for the moment, and that was all that counted.

“How reliable is your information, Mr. Martin?”

Okay: time to close out. Kim had accomplished what she wanted to do. “It’s correct, Dr. Kane.”

Tora studied the lawyer’s image. “If I need your help, will you be available?”

“Certainly,” he said. “I’d be happy to do what I can for you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was unsteady.

“I hope I’ve been of assistance. Good day, Doctor.” And Kim disconnected.

She left the booth but used her commlink to call home and tie in with her monitoring system. The tag on the flyer would alert her if Tora went anywhere, just as the tap on the roof would listen in on any calls.

She wandered through the mall. Only a couple of the shops had opened. One carried sporting gear and she was looking at swimsuits when her alert sounded.

“Yes, Shep?” she said into her link.

“She’s calling the Mighty Third. The museum. Do you wish to listen?”

“Please.”

She heard the far-away ringing. Then an automated voice answered. “Good morning. Mighty Third Memorial Museum.”

“May I speak with Mikel Alaam, please?”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Tora Kane.”

“One moment. I’ll see if he’s in.”

While she waited, Kim recalled Markis’s tenure as head of The Scarlet Sleeve. And Veronica King.