"Thanks!"

He went, walking fast, with the traffic, in the direction the boy had said, passing some casual walkers. Call the Bureau. Ask for protection. Theycan't think I'm responsible. They can't blame anyone but Reseune Security—

Abban, the head of it—

He saw the sign that said Phone,and kept his keycard in his hand. He knew the Bureau number: he had had it memorized for years—but he had never used a phone outside Reseune, and he picked up the receiver, reading instructions: Lift receiver, insert card, key in or touch 0 and voicein. ...

"Ser."

He turned and saw a gray uniform, a tall, heavy-set body.

Novgorod police.

He dropped the receiver and hit the officer a glancing blow getting past him; and ran, desperately, through the crowds.

But his keycard, he realized to his horror, dodging past a group of workers and down a side tunnel—his keycard was still in the phone-slot.

xi

". . . My own Security was remiss at best," Ari said, in what of a voice she had left, sitting at the table in the conference room where Justin had sat. "Reseune will be conducting an internal investigation. I will tell you this, seri, —" Her voice cracked, and she took a drink of water. She had gotten her clothes changed, her hair pinned up—Catlin and Florian had helped; and she had the shakes—even if they had gotten her a cup of coffee and a liquid breakfast, which was all she could stand on her smoke-irritated throat. "I'm sorry. The voice isn't much. —I was about to say: I'm functioning as temporary head of Reseune Security; I'm ordering transfers; I'm posting and making assignments. I'm prepared to continue in that post at least administratively if Family council confirms it, though I'm quite aware my age and experience in Security are at issue: my view of my position is as someone qualified to assess the individuals in charge of operations and to make sure communications go through. I feel—to put this delicately—that my uncle's death has left some disarray in the department; the death of the acting head in the fire—is extremely unfortunate."

"Do you feel," Lynch asked, "that there is a chance the attempt was entirely internal?"

She drew a breath and took another drink of water. "Yes. I don't discount that possibility. Reseune is in transition. Dr. Nye—my surviving uncle—is very much affected by his brother's death. There are questions about his own health. But there are certainly experienced administrators who can deal with the problems if Reseune's own council should give them that mandate."

"In short, you feel Reseune can handle the problems."

"I have no doubt."

"Internally," Dr. Wells said, Corain's voice in Science. "But there is, pardon me, sera Emory, some question in my mind, regarding Dr. Warrick's disappearance. You say he was lodged in the room next to yours—but you know he cleared that area."

"Yes."

"Do you consider there's a chance he ran?"

"I don't think that likely, no."

"Why? Because his father is detained by Reseune?"

"Because," she shot back, "of his testimony before this committee. The Paxers were damned—excuse me: were extremely quick to take advantage of the hotel bombing; I'm scared mindless that there may well have been Paxer agents hovering around the hotel because we were there, and that whether or not they were the ones who planted the bomb—they may have been in a position to recognize Dr. Warrick among the evacuees and to kidnap him."

"Certain people might suggest other agencies."

"We certainly have no motive to. We brought him here."

"His father remains in detention."

"Under protective guard, in view of a security breach that put him in contact with unauthorized personnel. We don't know whatelse could have gotten to him. The attempt on my life makes that more than a remote possibility. In the meanwhile I'm extremely worried about Justin Warrick's whereabouts and about his physical condition."

"While Dr. Jordan Warrick remains under arrest."

"You can call it what you like, ser; the facts are as I gave them."

"Under your direction of Security."

"Under my direction."

"From whom are you taking your orders?"

"I operate within the directives of Reseune Administration. I'm reviewing Jordan Warrick's security and I will be in communication with him; and with Reseune Administration; I'm not empowered to make changes without consultation."

"Is he aware of his son's disappearance?"

"No, ser. We hope to have better news for him. Justin's well aware of his personal danger—he may well have hidden somewhere until he can be sure of the situation. That's my best hope."

"Is there any likelihood," Lynch asked, "that one of the blasts was aimed at him?"

"The blast was incendiary and directional; they put it in his room because my security could have found it immediately if it had been inside. It was elaborately shielded, it was mounted, more than likely, my security tells me, behind the very large bureau—a floor-to-ceiling cabinet—against that wall." Her voice cracked. She took another drink. "Excuse me. Justin was at a connecting door at the time, right against that wall—he was trying to warn me or my staff of something: we don't know what. The wall blew; the bureau spun half about and fell against the bed between him and the blast; and the plastic fragments hit that and the far wall. He was protected. That's how we know he survived the blast and we know he made it out of that room. Possibly he had seen something inthe room that shouldn't have been there. I want to ask him. I want to know why his personal guard was found dead down the hall, notin the room. There are a lot of unanswered questions revolving around Dr. Warrick."

"For the record, you don't consider any possibility that Dr. Justin Warrick was part of a conspiracy."

"Absolutely not. For the record, I'm worried about a problem inside our own staff, within the area of personnel attached to my late uncle—and I'm very hesitant to be more specific than that even with this distinguished committee and guests. I'm continuing to answer questions, but I'm exceedinglyanxious to get to the airport and get home, to carry reports to members of the Reseune staff who may decide to take action. The attack proves well enough that lives may be in danger."

"From what source?" Wells asked.

"Again, ser, I don't feel I should make charges: the next step is internal investigation, after which appropriate authorities from my Territory will be in contact with the Bureau."

"You're extremely young to lecture this committee on judicial matters."

"I believe, ser, that I'm factually right; and I hold an administrative post within Reseune which requires legal expertise—I refer to my post as wing supervisor, ser. It is correct for me to bring my information before Reseune authorities: I can appeal to the Bureau only in a personal matter, and it would be irresponsible to treat this as a personal incident: its implications are far more extensive."

"Specifically?"

"The possibility that Reseune law is being violated. That security is compromised to the extent I can't be sure of my Administrator's security. Either his involvement—or his safety from persons who may be. I have to say that much, to make you understand it could cost lives if we delay in this committee, or if a message goes out of here to Reseune." God. Let's not have a debate on this. We can't leak it that Jordan Warrick is on a plane, it's too damn vulnerable till it's on the ground; andafter it is—