They sat more or less ignoring each other. But Petrovitch was watching Newcomen’s every move, every slow grind of his jaw, every frown of his brows.

[His reaction is not what I predicted.]

“He’s corruptible. In a good way, I think. I can make him care: it’s just going to take a little longer, that’s all.”

[You will be on the continental USA later on today. If the State Department’s schedule is to be believed, you are expected in Seattle by nightfall, and Alaska the day after. Time – real time – is critically short if you are going to break this man’s Reconstructionist conditioning.]

“I’ve already planted the virus in his subconscious. Sooner or later it’s going to infect his whole mind. All I have to do is find the right trigger.”

[We need to identify points past which it will be necessary to kill him and for you to continue alone.]

“I think those points will become self-evident the deeper into this pizdets we dig.”

[Even so, if we list them now, I can remind you of them when we reach them. If we are trying to induce Stockholm syndrome in him, it is also true that you might feel reluctant to follow through your previous intentions.]

Petrovitch scratched at his chin. Newcomen was choking down his last piece of toast.

“I’m already there. Doesn’t mean I won’t do it, though. Not if Lucy’s depending on me.”

[She is.]

“I’m still a bastard, aren’t I? Still using people to get what I want.” He growled, and such was his frustration, he vocalised it.

Newcomen looked up sharply.

“Sorry. Not directed at you.” Petrovitch glanced at the clock in the corner of his vision. “We need to go.”

He screwed up his napkin on to his plate, swigged the last of his coffee, and started for the exit. Newcomen was left playing catch-up.

“I need to get my case, pack my things,” he puffed.

“Five minutes, then. When I said go, I meant it. You’re checked out and your bill’s been paid already, so there’s no need to hang around in the foyer.” They passed the lifts, and Petrovitch shooed him into the one specially held for him by the hotel’s computer. “Five minutes. Outside. Go.”

The doors shushed shut and the lift sent him upwards.

“What’s he doing?”

[Resting his head against the wall. You may have destroyed him, Sasha. Can you put him back together again?]

“We’re all about to find out.” Petrovitch summoned his car to the kerbside, and kept on walking through the foyer.

6

Auden was waiting for them at Departures. He suspected something because he was a suspicious man. He knew the Freezone. He hated them.

Petrovitch hated him right back, though he doubted very much that Auden would guess what they’d done to Newcomen. Neither would he find out until it was too late. That, at least, allowed Petrovitch a moment of smugness.

If Newcomen had Auden, Petrovitch had Tabletop next to him, looking cool and efficient, and no matter how much he disliked the NSA operative, Tabletop could double that emotion and more. There was every good reason to believe Auden knew her real name, knew her whole history, and Tabletop would like nothing more than to beat that information out of the man. Preferably over the course of a few weeks.

It meant they were ridiculously polite to each other on the infrequent occasions they met.

“No Mrs Petrovitch to wave you off?” asked Auden.

“It’s not required. I talked to her just now, I’ll talk to her again in a moment.”

“And only the charming Miss Tabletop for company.”

“Hand it over.” Petrovitch turned his palm upwards, and Auden placed a thin plastic rectangle on it.

Petrovitch turned it to face him. There was his image on the left, burnt in three dimensions into the hologram, and on the right, the dots of a machine-readable data matrix. The back told him it was his Department of Homeland Security visa, and remained its property.

He passed the card to Tabletop, who ran it through a portable scanner she’d pulled from her shoulder bag. She held out the card to Auden, who took it back with an audible sigh.

“That one seems to be full of spyware, Mr Auden. I wonder if you have an alternative?” She smiled.

“This was what I was given, I’m afraid, Miss Tabletop. It’s either this, or Dr Petrovitch won’t be allowed on the flight.” He wasn’t sorry at all as he re-presented the visa to Petrovitch.

“Never mind.” She opened her bag again and pulled out a rectangular box with a slot in the top. She held it out for Petrovitch, who posted the card inside. “We’ll clean things up for you.”

The top of the box had a button and two lights. Neither was currently illuminated, but when she pressed the button with her thumb, the red light came on. There was a crack of electricity, and the green light glowed.

“There,” she said brightly. “All done.”

Petrovitch retrieved the card. It looked unaltered, but the microcircuitry that would keep Homeland Security informed of his whereabouts was so much molten slag.

He idly stuck it in his back pocket. “That particular charade over, Auden?”

“So it seems. Have a good journey, and Agent Newcomen? I appreciate that your duty is a difficult one, but we always try to carry ourselves with dignity and fortitude. I’ll be sending a report to your superiors informing them of your exemplary conduct so far.”

Even Newcomen had the sense to be diplomatic. “Uh, thank you, sir. I’m sure AD Buchannan will appreciate that.”

“You’re a credit to the Bureau, and to America. Dr Petrovitch will find you a valuable guide when he’s in unfamiliar territory.”

“Yobany stos, enough of the corn, Auden. We both know that Newcomen’s a fall guy and I’ll probably ditch him at the first opportunity, so there’s no point in your govno. You’ve done your job. Take your goons and go.”

Auden accepted defeat and peeled off. As before, several nondescript travellers suddenly aborted their flight plans and flanked him as he strode away.

“And just like that, I’m abandoned.” Newcomen looked at his shoes.

“He’s still got people here, watching what we do. There’s even a couple of agents booked on the flight over, three rows back from us. Remember, if you ever think you’re not under surveillance, you still are. You can be overheard at any time. I let it slide this morning, because you needed to know the score. But from now on, on the plane, in a cab, on the street, in an office, over the phone, on a computer – unless I explicitly say so – you have to assume they can read your thoughts. Vrubatsa?”

“You keep saying that. What does it mean?”

Petrovitch felt like he was explaining something to a child. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Really?”

“I get it.”

“Good. Now go and get your stupid case checked in and meet me back here.” Petrovitch watched him go, the luggage trundling after him. “Chyort, so many things can go wrong.”

Tabletop tugged at her ponytail. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump, and you ask me that?” People passed around them, ignoring them, not even seeing them.

“Of course I do. We’re here to catch you. But there’s nothing wrong in being afraid.”

“They can smell fear. Auden knows we’ve no real idea what’s going on, and he’s told Washington that.” He screwed his fingers into fists and jammed them in his pockets. “It’s pizdets.”

“The data miners are hard at work. We’ll have something soon.” Tabletop nodded over at Newcomen. “And he may well surprise you.”

“The only surprise I’m going to get from him is guessing how long he can hold it together. How the huy did he ever end up working for the Feds? He’s scared of his own shadow. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity my arse.”