He had been twitching and fidgeting while they spoke. Now he became perfectly still. “Can you prove that? Have you been digging into Sky City shipping records?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know anything?”

“I know what I was told.”

“So you don’t really know anything at all. It’s just hearsay. Who was it who gave you the information?”

Maddy was ready to say Seth Parsigian’s name. Why not? Seth also was an Argos Group employee, reporting, like her, to Gordy. But she saw the expression in Rolfe’s eyes. She had said far too much already.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“The man you’ve got the hots for. Did he tell you?”

“No! He has nothing to do with this.”

“I think I believe you. But who told you, Maddy? I have to know. Who was it?”

For close to ten years she had complied with every order from Gordy Rolfe. She had even tried to anticipate his unspoken wishes. The urge to obey was strong. Rolfe’s eyes seemed to grow, glaring at her from the screen.

Maddy closed her own eyes. “I’m not going to tell you. And I’m not going to talk about this anymore. I’ll send you my official resignation. I appreciate what I’ve learned from you and everything you’ve done for me over the years. But it’s goodbye.”

She pressed the disconnect key. She did not want to look at that malevolent countenance, those hot, disturbing eyes. Gordy hadn’t always been this way. For the past few months he had been approaching the edge, sliding away from the rational. If he were not so far away and so reclusive, he would be a perfect candidate for the Sky City killer.

The real question was, would Gordy accept her resignation? And if he did, would he try to harm her? Kill her?

Maddy comforted herself with the thought that she was a long way from Earth. Gordy Rolfe was king of The Flaunt and of his strange underworld habitat, but that was all. Surely, although the arm of Gordy Rolfe was long, it could not stretch as far as Sky City.

There was only one problem. If Gordy was interfering with shield development, that had to stop. At once. Maddy could not make that happen, but she knew a person who could. Someone who could also turn Maddy’s vague suspicions into established fact.

Slowly, reluctantly, feeling like a traitor to the man who had for nine years been at the center of her life, Maddy placed the call to Celine Tanaka.

The beep of the telcom unit went on and on. Nick Lopez did not want to answer. It was the dedicated line, and the only person who could possibly be at the other end was Gordy Rolfe.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

Nick sighed. The representative from the Maldives was young and beautiful and oh so innocent-looking. But not perhaps so innocent. The discussion of trade agreements between the islands and the World Protection Federation was proceeding smoothly, and the transcript would show only official business. But underneath, at the submerged level that made the beginning of any affair so delightful, ran a current of physical awareness and mutual attraction.

“Martin, I don’t want to answer the call. It’s a private, dedicated line, and if I pick it up I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“That would be all right.” A sideways glance from blue eyes with long, dark lashes. A tiny smile. The husky voice saying, “We have more to discuss, but we could do it later. Couldn’t we?”

The opening gambit. Nick’s move. “I have meetings all the rest of the afternoon. It would have to be this evening. Are you free?”

“I am not free.” A knowing smile, a hint of even white teeth. “But perhaps I can make myself available.”

“Then may I suggest dinner? And afterward, a walk on the new Ipanema beach? That will give us ample opportunities … to talk.”

A grave nod. “I suspect that we will find much to discuss.”

“Undoubtedly. At seven, then? My limousine will pick you up.”

“I will be waiting.”

The farewell, a thin hand grasping Nick’s great brown paw for one split second longer than necessary. And Martin Oliveira was gone.

Nick raised his hand and sniffed the faint perfume that Martin’s touch had left behind. Exciting. At the same time proper, subtle, and wholly civilized. If only all the world were so. Nick picked up the telcom unit.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Gordy’s voice rasped at once out of the set. “I knew you were in your goddamn office, your secretary told me. Why didn’t you pick up?”

“Gordy, I was in my office because I had a meeting here. I had to get rid of the other person. This is supposed to be a private, dedicated line for the two of us. Do you want others listening?”

“I want action. When you hear what I have to say, so will you. Get ready to crap in your pants.”

Nick listened to the rapid-fire summary of Gordy’s conversation with Maddy Wheatstone. At the end of it he said, “I agree, it sounds bad. Will Wheatstone talk?”

“No. She’s no dummy, and I’ve been grooming her for a top Argos Group position for nine years. Right now she has the hots for Hyslop, but deep down she knows that once she gets over him she’ll want her old job back.”

“You have more faith in that than I do.”

“Because I’m smarter than you. Even if Maddy did talk, all she has is hearsay. Right now we have to worry about the source, the one who dug into the records.”

“She refused to tell you who that was?”

“Of course she did. You fucking half-wit, why do you think I’m calling you?”

Improper. Unsubtle. Wholly uncivilized. But accurate, since only a half-wit would ever have become involved with Gordy Rolfe.

“I have no idea who Maddy Wheatstone was referring to.”

“But you can find out.”

“How?”

“Call your stooge, Bozo Colombo. The person we need must have been digging into the data bases that deal with Argos Group transactions. Unless Sky City is screwed up beyond belief, the retrieval systems will hold a record of every inquiry. Tell Colombo we need names, everybody who’s been into the records in the past few weeks. Have his technical staff make a list.”

“And do what with it? I’ve told you before, Bruno Colombo has his limits. So do I.”

“You’re spineless, Lopez. You’re just as bad as your stooge.” Rolfe’s voice changed to become a broad imitation of Nick’s deeper one. ” ’Bruno Colombo has his limits. So do I.’ ” Rolfe’s raspy tone became flat and expressionless. “Well, I don’t. You get me the list. I’ll take it from there.”

“And do what?”

“Never you mind. All you have to do is sit on your ass in New Rio and keep your mouth closed. I assume you’re at least capable of that.”

“Suppose it’s one of my people, Gordy?”

“Suppose it is?”

“I could buy them off. That would be easier than anything else.”

“And be sure they stayed bought? We’ve had this conversation before. I say, let’s go for a permanent solution. Remember, I told you it would have been easier to get rid of Hyslop, and you wouldn’t let me?”

“But I was right. I said we might need Hyslop, and we did.”

“No. You did. I didn’t. I don’t give a flying fuck if the space shield works, or if it turns out to be a space sieve and everybody on the surface of Earth fries. And I’m not interested in a discussion; I want action. Tell Bruno Colombo to get his ass in gear and send you that list. Soon.”

“You’re not thinking—” Nick found he was speaking into a dead line. He replaced the telcom set, more upset than he wanted to admit.

And more perplexed. You went through life in public office, laying claim to high morality when you knew quite well that at heart you were totally immoral. You were well acquainted with the majority of the seven deadly sins. Certainly pride, anger, and greed had their place in your life. You could claim a lifelong familiarity with and affection for lust.

And then, at an age when a man ought to know himself, you discovered that your immorality had its limits.