“We will not negotiate with you.” Tanya Ligon gave up on icy stares and spoke for the first time. “We prefer to deal with the Bat.”

“Why?” Magrit knew very well the answer to her own question. The sisters formed a one-two knockout sexual team who had obtained from a score of supposedly hard-headed and rational businessmen the most favorable contract terms for Ligon Industries. She was curious to hear the sisters’ own reasons, and was amused when Tanya said, “We find that men are more amenable to logical arguments than women.”

“Perhaps. But Bat does not want to meet with you, or with any women. Maybe he finds them too logical.”

“He meets with you.”

“Not recently. And when he did meet with me, he had no choice. He was my employee.”

That produced more reaction. Rezel’s perfect brow wrinkled, and Tanya said, “He worked for you. And he could afford to take out a long-term lease on the whole of Pandora?”

“He subsequently became very wealthy.” Magrit wondered, didn’t people remember anything? Bat’s name had been splashed all around the System only a few years ago, when he had been richly rewarded for his rescue mission on Europa.

Magrit did not mention that their own cousin, Alex Ligon, also possessed of great wealth, worked for her now. Instead she said, “Bat’s very rich. He meets only with whom he chooses.”

Another glare from Tanya’s frosty blue eye. Rezel said, “You are being uncooperative. This is not a question of money. We insist that we talk to him. We are convinced that in a meeting in person with the Bat we can persuade him to change his mind about the lease of Pandora.”

It was time for other tactics. Magrit glanced about the conference room. The wall decorations were all 3-D depictions of the Ligon family history, so rich and varied that it was impossible to determine what equipment they concealed. “Do you have anything in this room that will take an image cube?”

Rezel just scowled, but Tanya reached across and pressed the table top. An image display unit, mounted flush with the polished surface top and indistinguishable from it, rose into view. Magrit slipped the image cube from her pocket, inserted it, and performed her selection.

“Here,” she said when the picture clip appeared, “is Rustum Battachariya, also known as Bat, the Great Bat, and on the Puzzle Network” — the sisters looked blank — “as Megachirops. This is the man whom you wish to meet. The picture is a few years old. He has put on perhaps thirty kilos since it was taken.”

Magrit was cheating a little. She had selected a sequence that caught Bat at his most malevolent. He crouched in the Bat Cave, amid a clutter of Great War relics. He was examining one of his treasures, a de-brained Seeker missile. The glow from the Seeker’s ruby sensors reflected in Bat’s dark eyes. He looked, and undoubtedly was, unwashed and unshaven, and he was dressed in rumpled black clothes that emphasized rather than cloaked his bulging body.

Magrit heard Tanya grunt. Rezel was silent, but she gazed at the picture with her mouth open.

“A meeting is not impossible,” Magrit went on. “However, there are a few things you ought to know that pictures cannot reveal. Bat does not travel. If you are determined to meet with him — which I still do not recommend — it would have to be at his home.”

“That is his home?” Tanya was staring at the dark walls and gloomy depths of the Bat Cave.

“That’s right.” Magrit smiled at the sisters. “It’s not as bad as it looks. The weapons are all disarmed — at least, that’s what Bat tells me. You two are not geeks.” Magrit spoke as one making a new and surprising discovery. “But Bat is a typical geek, always taking things to bits, fiddling with their computers, and putting them back together again. You’d really be wasting your time with him. It’s a pity there’s no one in your family with his sort of interests.”

Rezel arched her styled eyebrows at Tanya, who said to Magrit, “Stay where you are.” The two sisters stood up from the table and walked toward the back wall, which mysteriously became a door as they approached it.

Magrit was left alone. She disengaged the image cube of Bat and slipped it back in her pocket. It wasn’t likely the Ligon sisters would ask to see it again. After five more minutes she stood up and as an experiment walked around the table and across to where Rezel and Tanya had disappeared. The wall remained a wall. Apparently there was a recognition code built into it. Magrit went back to the table.

Three minutes more, and part of the back wall suddenly became the image of the reception Fax. Its eyes turned until they looked straight at Magrit — some fancy recognition software there, more than you’d find in any government office Fax — and it said, “Your meeting is over. I have been instructed to request that you now leave the Ligon corporate premises.”

So much for negotiation. Magrit, on the way back to her office, assessed the meeting. On the one hand, they had stopped pushing for a meeting with Bat; on the other hand, it was clear that they were not willing to deal with Magrit; nor had she ever expected them to. She had planted the seed of an idea with them at the end of the meeting, and that was about all she had hoped for.

Back in her office, Magrit tried a call to Bat. Reaching him was always an iffy proposition, because he had long ago assured her that he would not abandon certain sacred activities even if her incoming message warned that the Sun was going nova”. She had asked what those activities were. He mentioned cooking, eating, seeking Great War relics, and thinking about difficult abstract problems.

Magrit said, “But that’s all you ever do!”

Bat had pondered for a moment, folded his hands across his belly, and nodded.

Today he was not, by Bat standards, cooking or eating. True, he had in front of him three bowls of assorted sweetmeats, half-empty, but he was not in the kitchen juggling stock and shellfish and fine-chopped herbs.

He inclined his head, to indicate that he was aware of Magrit’s telepresence.

She waved the quick-print. “There’s a report from Argus Station at L-4. I was wondering—”

“I read it. It is interesting, and perhaps relevant. However, it is not the central phenomenon that causes me apprehension. What I sense goes farther back in time, and feels far more dangerous. Is that the reason for your presence? If so, then a simple message—”

“It’s not. Bat, I did you a favor today. I persuaded two members of the Ligon family that a meeting with you would not be to their advantage.”

“For this relief, much thanks.”

“But that doesn’t mean the pressure is off you, or off me. Bat, I know how you feel about this. You wish they would just go away. So do I. They’re not going to. Unless we can provide a reason for them to lay off — a strong reason — they are going to squeeze and squeeze until they spit you out of the middle of Pandora dead or alive. Do you have anything new that I can use?”

“You must be the judge of that. I am only able to tell you what I have discovered.”

“Shoot.”

“Very well.” Bat closed his eyes. “We could I suppose begin with Giacomo Ligon, whose first Antarctic leases were probably obtained through threat and bribery and covert murder. However, that was close to a century years ago. This leads me to suspect that some statute of limitations is likely to apply.”

“Look far enough back in anybody’s family, you’ll find villains. Anyway, that was all on Earth so Jovian law wouldn’t apply. Bat, we need something now, some hold on living family members.”

“This is something of which I am not unaware. However, it is my nature to be comprehensive rather than superficial. Permit me to continue, and since you wish it I will confine my attention to members of the Ligon family who are presently alive and make their homes on Ganymede. The most promising candidate, since he sits at the heart of Ligon financial affairs and has final say in them, is Prosper Ligon. I have, regrettably from our point of view, been unable to discover any taint on the man. If he has interests other than work, I have been unable to learn of them. He appears to have as few vices as I do.”