John smiled at Maddy. “You know what his ’big favor’ was? Giorgio fired me. It didn’t feel like much of a favor at the time. But he gave me a farewell party that lasted two days, and sent me off with a terrific recommendation to the space shield council. And here I am.”

Building memories, to keep you warm in your old age — / like the sound of that. But I’m not building anything, and I wonder if you are, now that you’re not working on the shield.

You love that old man, don’t you? I bet the thought has never occurred to you. And did you know that when you smile like that, your eyes crinkle at the corners? I bet that has never occurred to you, either.

And I bet you don’t realize there’s not a dry seat in the house when you look at women like that.

Down, Maddy. But keep him talking, so you don’t have to. He’ll do it; you just have to push the right button.

“Is Giorgio Hamman still alive?”

“He’s not only alive, he’s out here in Sky City. He came four years ago, when he hit ninety. Not for the engineering, though — I’ve tried to get him involved in that, but he won’t listen. He says he made a mistake. What we’re doing with the shield isn’t real engineering, the way that the big suspension bridges are engineering. Instead of the cables and girders and caissons that he’s used to, we’re piddling about with robots and computers and strands of gossamer. He says we’re building a spiderweb. The fact that it’s a hundred thousand kilometers long doesn’t change things.”

“If he doesn’t like it, why does he stay on Sky City? Because it’s easier on his heart?”

“Giorgio isn’t worried about his heart. He says a good engineer doesn’t have one. He stays here because he’s sour on Earth. Maybe it’s just an old man’s memories, but the way he tells it, people on Earth before the supernova were different. More easygoing. I pointed out that there were twice as many people back then, but he says that’s not what he means. Half the world died, but it doesn’t explain why the ones who are left are so much tougher and more selfish.”

You’re describing Gordy Rolfe perfectly. Actually, you’re describing the whole Argos Group. And I’m part of it. I’m the hotshot VP, the fastest gun in the place except for Gordy himself. And he’s a disgusting, paranoid little shit.

Maddy had just enough self-control to say none of that. She was helped by something else that caught her attention. A woman had appeared at one of the hall entry staircases. She stood about fifteen meters away, regarding Maddy with a puzzled expression on her face.

Now she was walking toward them. Maddy did an instinctive point-by-point comparison. About my height. Great carriage, sexy and regal at the same time — can’t compete with that. Good figure, too, far as I can tell in those clothes — bet the men go ape over those breasts. Big, serious eyes. But they’re sort of lifeless, I’ll take mine any day. Nice auburn hair. Color looks natural. An odd style. And that’s a strange hair comb, sort of tiara-shaped — looks like it’s a real antique -

The woman halted at their table while Maddy was still busy with her inventory.

“Lauren. You got my message.” John Hyslop finally saw the newcomer and gestured to her to sit down. “Come and join us.”

John didn’t notice as he made the introductions — of course he didn’t, a geek engineer wasn’t designed to pick up undertones — but some things are obvious even when you are drugged up to the eyes. Maddy could see that, so far as Lauren Stansfield was concerned, this meeting had one person too many.

Lauren immediately provided confirmation. She said, “I was hoping that this would be a private meeting.” She looked at Maddy but spoke as though she did not exist.

Not a chance, sweetheart. I stay. Maddy nodded to Lauren, smiled at John, and sipped coffee.

“I think Maddy has to remain where I can keep an eye on her.” John spoke right on cue, as if Maddy had scripted it. “She’s up from Earth, and Weinstein just gave her a shot of Asfanil. We have to watch for side effects. On the other hand, if you want to talk about personal things . . .”

Did I have it right the first time? Are they lovers?

Maddy took another look at the woman sitting on her left, Lauren Stansfield was beautifully dressed in a custom-made plum-colored pantsuit that conformed to engineer dress code while managing to seem nothing like it. She was also impeccably made up, as though for a date. But the body language said no such thing. She sat well back from John Hyslop, knees together, back straight, hands folded at her midriff.

“I have no personal matters to discuss,” she said. “My choice of words was perhaps confusing. When I said that I wished for a private meeting I meant only that I want to talk about matters concerning Aten asteroid materials, inappropriate for discussion in public.”

“Oh, that’s all right.” John was clearly relieved. “You can talk about that in front of Maddy. In fact, it’s good if you do — Maddy’s with the Argos Group, and their contract includes material delivery from the Aten asteroids.”

“Very well.” Lauren Stansfield leaned toward Maddy, providing a close-up of the retrousse nose and the small, prim mouth. For the first time, that mouth took on the shadow of a smile. It was not reflected in the cold, wide eyes. “Ms. Wheatstone, you must excuse me if I am as blunt as if you were not present.”

Lauren turned to John Hyslop, making it clear that so far as she was concerned Maddy was not part of the meeting. “As you know, John, our procedure calls for an inventory of materials every three months. We are six weeks away from the end of the quarter, but since I am taking over from you in certain areas I decided to make an inventory at once. It seems that there are major discrepancies between recorded and actual quantities. I see signs of substantial theft of materials derived from the Aten asteroid stores—”

“Hold on.” John held up his hand. “Lauren, I wish you had let me know that you were going to do this.”

It was not at all a reprimand, but it seemed to Maddy that Lauren Stansfield took it as such. Her back stiffened and she said, “I thought it best to proceed without telling anyone. After all, if there has been theft, as appears to be the case, I did not wish to give the thieves an opportunity to cover up their actions.”

“Sure. But it’s not theft, Lauren. It’s only sloppiness — my sloppiness.” John pulled out the little notebook that Maddy had seen him using on the shuttle. “When we were making fixes on the shield last week, the crew needed a bunch of chrome bars and smart sensors and carbon filament microlattices. It was a rush job, so I told them to pull straight out of inventory and I would take care of the record keeping. I did, too.” He waved the notebook. “In here. But I never got round to transferring it into the data bases.”

Lauren Stansfield’s face was inscrutable. Even Maddy, who specialized in such things, could not read it. Was that a look of relief, that the problem had gone away? Was it annoyance, at having her theory of theft disposed of so quickly? Or was it disdain, for the primitive way that John Hyslop recorded information?

Listen and learn. Maddy had too little experience with women engineers.

Lauren was taking a small entry terminal from her own jacket. “I see. Then I suggest that we update the inventory at once. If you will read me the industry codes, and then the quantities …”

Maddy sat back as the conversation descended into a boring exchange of meaningless numbers. She listened with half an ear and watched much more closely. She wanted to understand, not so much what these engineers talked about as what moved and motivated them.

Her first take on John Hyslop, as a calculating and unemotional man, had been wrong. You only had to hear him talk about Giorgio Hamman to realize that his enthusiasm for the man went beyond admiration to adoration.