"All right, Hsing," Orchid said, resigned. "What is it? What's the detail?"

"Set me up a date with Sayuri Nakada," I said. "I want to talk to her."

He gaped at me, but he didn't have much choice. He made the call.

Chapter Nineteen

I DON'T KNOW WHY I WANTED TO SEE NAKADA IN PERSON, but I did. It was important to me, somehow.

We met on neutral ground. We met at a little breakfast bar on Second, in the middle of Trap Over. I was sitting there waiting, with Mishima's muscle quiet in the background, when Nakada walked in with a piece of muscle of her own and an entourage of floaters.

She didn't recognize me until I called her name.

"Mis' Nakada! Over here!"

She came and looked down at me. "What the hell happened to your hair?"

"Long story," I said. "You wouldn't be interested."

She shrugged and sat down.

I pointed at her muscle, a big guy with sleek, hairless black skin that might or might not have been armored. If it was armored, it was a better job than Mishima's bunch could afford. "Do we need him?" I asked.

She glanced back at him, then waved him away. He went to wait outside-there wasn't room in the bar.

Most of the floaters went with him; one stayed, a little golden multipurpose job, and I decided not to argue about it. After all, even if it left, Nakada still had implants down to the marrow, and I couldn't make her leave those outside.

The bar delivered my tea and puffcake, and I asked if she wanted anything. She shook her head.

"All I want," she said, "is to know why you got me down here."

I didn't answer directly. "How's the project going?" I asked.

She scowled at me. "The project?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You know, the one that's going to make you rich."

She didn't like my manners, that was obvious, but she answered. "Bad," she said. "They hit some kind of snag in the mapping data. Everything's been delayed."

I nodded sympathetically. 'Too bad," I said. "Remember your promise that you'd let me know when the date's set."

"I remember," she said.

I was playing this by guess, plugging in values as I went, I wasn't sure at all what I was doing, why I was there, or why Nakada was there. I just knew that I had to talk to her, and here I was, talking to her.

The obvious question was whether I should tell her that she was being rooked. The obvious answer was yes; I mean, why the hell not? I didn't owe Orchid and Lee anything.

And I wasn't sure it would make any difference. Hell, there was a good chance the whole scam was about to fall apart anyway. My own opinion was that if Orchid was running smooth he'd clear out, take what he'd gotten so far, and get off-planet without trying to bleed any more juice out of anyone.

I decided to try the direct and honest approach. "Mis' Nakada, have you ever really looked at the scheme the Ipsy's selling you?"

She looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, doesn't it sound too good to be true? Have you checked it over to see whether it would really work? Have you discussed it with anyone, run their claims through any analytical software?"

She stared at me. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"I'm getting at the question of whether Doc Lee and his bunch can actually do what they say they can," I said.

She almost snarled. "Of course they can," she said. "Lee's a top planetologist. His team's all top experts."

"Experts can lie, Mis' Nakada," I said.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I mean that it's all a trick, a sham," I told her. "They can't stop the city, any more than anyone else can. They're conning you. They're just taking your money and tucking it away on Prometheus. You don't have to believe me; get any planetologist you like to come and take a look, and you'll see. They're swindling you."

She glared at me with a look that was about the closest I've ever seen to pure hatred. "You're lying. You're the one trying to con me."

"No, I'm not," I said. "I'm telling the truth."

"You're lying," she insisted. "Why would they cheat me?"

"For the money, of course," I told her.

"No," she said. "You're lying, that's all." Then she looked as if a brilliant idea occurred to her. "Did somebody hire you to get them away from me?" she demanded. "To get them to work for someone else?"

"No," I said. "Nobody hired me."

"Somebody did," she said. "Somebody's trying to stop me."

"Think what you like," I said, amazed at her ability to deny reality when it clashed with her desires.

I'd tried. I'd tried honesty, tried telling her what was happening. If she didn't accept it, it wasn't my fault. I'd done my full duty to truth and justice. Sayuri Nakada deserved to be swindled if anyone ever did; I could almost sympathize with Orchid, seeing all that money in the hands of someone like her.

Of course, if she checked up later and cut Orchid and Lee and the rest off, or got them sent up for reconstruction, I wouldn't weep.

Right now, though, I had one more thing I realized I had to discuss with her, and maybe it was something I should have dealt with before I antagonized her. I had a client to take care of. Just because Paulie and Bobo weren't going to be making the rounds in the West End didn't mean nobody would.

"There's one other thing," I said, casually. "I probably should have mentioned it the first time, but you know how it is, things can slip your mind."

She just glared. Maybe she didn't know how it is, with all the implants she must have had keeping her up to date. Or maybe she just didn't want to admit she knew.

"There's a little matter of some people I know," I said. "Living out in the West End in some of the buildings you bought."

"Squatters," she said.

I nodded. "You could call them that," I agreed.

"Burakumin!" she spat. "Abid! A bunch of social gritware. They pay rent or they get out; I don't want them around when I start cleaning up out there."

I held up a hand. "Mis' Nakada," I said, "I think you're overreacting. They aren't such bad people."

I was lying; they were scum. But they were also paying clients.

"What are they to you?" she asked.

"Friends," I lied. "And I don't want them evicted."

"I do," she said, and she was pretty damn definite about it. I guessed right then that collecting rents hadn't been Orchid's idea at all, but hers. I doubted Orchid had known just how much trouble collecting that stupid rent would buy him, but at least he hadn't come up with it on his own.

"Mis' Nakada," I said, "I hope you'll reconsider."

"Why should I?" she demanded.

"Because if you don't, I'll put everything I know about the little plan you have the Ipsy working on on the public nets. That could cut into your profits pretty badly, having the word get out too soon."

"That's blackmail," she said.

I shrugged. "You could call it that, I suppose," I admitted. "I have a chunk of information; I can hand it out free, or I can sell you the dissemination rights. If you want to call that blackmail, suit yourself. Which do you want? Do I put it on the nets or not?"

"No!" she said, sharp and hard.

"Then we make a deal," I said. "We can put it in writing. I'm not looking for anything permanent, just a little time for my friends to get relocated. I'll agree not to release to the public or anyone except partners or immediate family any information I may have concerning your investment plans or dealings with nonprofit scientific organizations, and I'll bind all partners and immediate family to the same commitment. In exchange, you'll agree that you will not attempt to collect any rents on property in the West End for, shall we say, three years?"

"That's too long," she snapped.

"All right," I said. "Until you're ready to refurbish the buildings, or three years, whichever comes first. The day your repair crews arrive, the squatters will be out; how's that sound?"