"My bomb?"

"Oh, no. There was a bomb on the Open Lotus, on it before it was sunk.

Remember I told you we found two extra bodies on board when we brought the Open Lotus up and that one of them was INS?"

She nodded. "That's right. It was the reason you went dashing off to BBINS."

"Yes. Well, we found a bomb in the engine room that McIntyre apparently defused." He saw the confusion on her face. "McIntyre was a machinist mate on the Sycorax. His was the INS body. We think he interfered with their plan to scuttle the Open Lotus in deeper water and that was why they sank her where you found her."

"I don't think it's very fair of you to criticize my handling of bombs if you've been doing the same thing."

Thomas glared at her. "We let the bomb squad handle it."

She looked away. "So you think it was the Sycorax?"

"We're pretty sure, but we don't have clear evidence." He told her about the discrepancies in the Sycorax's reported and actual positions, as well as the suspected alteration of the fifty-caliber machine-gun barrel.

"Can't you arrest them?"

"It's very tenuous."

She shook her head. "I still don't see how this ties into the Encinas cartel."

Thomas gestured to the far side of the table, and Ensign Terkel stepped around and slid a file folder across. "We found some fake ID's in the engine room of the Open Lotus after we took a better look." He opened it and set it on the table, showing her color copies of driver's licenses and passports. "I knew of a recently convicted documents provider in Detention out here, so I went to see him."

Lieutenant Graham added, "And got yourself sliced."

"Give it a rest, Jazz. I promise, next time you can go."

Jazz subsided with a grin.

"What happened out at the prison? Did this documents man attack you?"

"No. Somebody had switched Ortega, the documents guy, with Vigil. Vigil attacked me."

She stood up so quickly that her chair fell over backward. "What! You let me place a murderer in Tio Rodolfo's home?"Thomas held up his hands. "They used his daughter, Patricia. They said they'd-well, some pretty awful things ending in death if he didn't kill me. They'd also set up some guards to kill him immediately after. He's not the villain in this act."

She licked her lips and turned to pick up the chair, but Ensign Terkel had already recovered it. She settled back down to perch on the edge. "Okay. Is that why you got them out of there?"

"Yes. Besides the chance they might carry out their threat against the daughter, both of them have seen these men. They might be silenced to keep them from ID-ing the bastards. Have you heard whether they are getting along with Don Rodolfo?"

She nodded. "I attended their arrival. It worked out very well-turns out they're family, distant cousins, previously lost."

"Really? That's weird." He shook his head. "The prison did find Ortega, eventually, in Vigil's cell. He took one look at these," he tapped the pages on the table, "and clammed up, but when I told them they were all dead, he let slip something about an agreement broken, a truce if you will, between the Encinas family and the Gomez cartel. But he wouldn't say anything else."

Patricia waited.

"Enter the DEA. We sent copies of the ID's to the DEA unit in Colombia, and they identified the entire group, then filled in the background." He licked his lips.

"Uh, where's that Barf-Aid?"

Ensign Terkel fetched a bottle of flavored electrolyte replacer from the back of one of the comm consoles.

"Thanks, Bart. Doctor's orders," he said to Patricia, and took several deep swallows, then made a face. "The background: apparently, in the last three months, the Gomez cartel effectively won the long-term war, destroying the Encinas family's coffee crops, burning their warehouses, and killing many of their employees with the help of bought government troops. The Encinases gave up-sued for peace, and the agreement, el acuerdo, stopped the fighting and allowed the Encinas family to withdraw, to leave with the remnants of their fortune, much of which was in bearer bonds and precious metals."

Patricia blinked. "Which wasn't aboard the Open Lotus."

"Certainly not when we searched it," agreed Thomas.

Patricia's face twisted, "Was it piracy, then? A mass mugging? Did they kill all those children for the money?"

"That's what we need to find out."

In fair New Galveston where we lay our scene.She had an odd frisson as she thought about that play. The refugee community is mine, the Capulets, ranged against the INS, the Montagues. Thomas is my Romeo, and I his Juliet. She sighed. We're going to have to rewrite the ending.

Patricia sat on the conference table, her feet dangling at Thomas's right shoulder; he was seated in a chair. Like everyone else in the room, she wore a wireless headset with a channel switch and listened.

All the comm stations were occupied, and Major Paine paced behind the operators, his hands folded neatly behind him. Ensign Terkel and Lieutenant Graham were arranging a series of personnel file folders across the table for ready access.

The room still smelled of Chinese food; the containers had been cleared away moments before.

Patricia rested her hand on Thomas's shoulder and he covered her hand with his.

A voice, on a canvas of turbines and wind, reported, "Hover ferry away. We count nine of them aboard. Nobody got off at Isabel Island, so Red team is aboard.

Blue team is still watching the ship."

Major Paine's voice came across. "Copy that, Red One. Green, Orange, and Yellow teams, heads up. ETA fifteen minutes."

There was a series of beeps from the comm consoles, and the c4 status screen, a large display currently showing an overall map of the Strand, flashed acknowledge symbols against the grouped team members' names as they responded. There were three member's in each team. "Green two," said Major Paine. "Did you copy that?"

The last missing symbol appeared.

"Might as well start ID, Major," said Thomas.

"Certainly, Commander. Take over."

Thomas released Patricia's hand and touched his headset. "Red One, we'll have the video now, if you're ready."

A dark image appeared on a screen on the Red team console.

"Switch to image intensification mode, Red One."

A man's silhouette flared into view: blond crew cut, with a thin, nearly invisible mustache. He was wearing a loud tropical shirt.

Terkel had the file and answered on the channel. "Mowett, Richard. Damage Controlman, First Class."

The image shifted to a heavier man with a thick walrus mustache, balding, in a collarless shirt. Patricia leaned forward and whispered, "Where's the camera?"

Thomas said, "Hmmm. Red team has theirs in a satphone. Takes some practice to aim it."Graham meanwhile was identifying the man on screen. "Hughes, Benjamin.

Master Chief Electronics Technician."

"Ah," said Thomas, leaning forward. "The guru. The master of time and space."

Patricia was confused, but they were moving on through the group, identifying faces, then coming back again, once the names had been found, to catalog the clothing.

Master Chief Hughes was the ranking member of the Sycorax's crew on the ferry.

There were no commissioned officers with them and only one seaman. The rest were specialist petty officers of one stripe or another. There was a senior chief radarman, a chief gunner's mate, a senior chief telecommunications specialist, and an aviation survivalman, first class.

When the aviation survivalman was identified, Thomas turned to Patricia and said, "You've met him before, sort of."

"I don't recognize him."

"He would be the diver they put in the water, from the helicopter. That's his duty."

"He was just wet-suited limbs and a face mask, bobbing like a cork. I did not tarry there."

Thomas touched his headset. "The ferry stops first at the Palacios terminal, then across to the airport, then back. If anybody stays aboard, Green team will board at Palacios. Red team exits at Palacios so the profile changes. Red and Green, acknowledge."

The c4 console operator reported, "Red and Green teams acknowledged."

But all of the Sycoraxers left the ferry at Palacios, so Green team stayed on the pier.

Thomas looked at Major Paine. "Would you take over, Major? You know the city better."

Major Paine nodded and lifted his hand to the handset. "Red team head for the taxi stands. Yellow team to the Intercity ferry queue. Orange team to the Palacios walkways, now. Green team, stay back. Green One, give us some video."

Earlier, Thomas had told her that, except for Blue team, back at the Abattoir, there were one New Galveston police officer and two members of Thomas's CID unit with each team. Blue team, expected to operate strictly in INS territory, was all CID.

An image on the Green console appeared, a wide-angle shot of the crowded ferry pier. Patricia had trouble discerning which group of figures was the crew of the Sycorax, but by watching the video's motion, she identified the block of men, twowalking in front, then four, then three following. They were walking down the center of the pier, neither turning toward the taxis or the Intercity ferries.

Major Paine began talking quickly, splitting Orange team and sending them ahead, down three different possible avenues. He did the same thing with Yellow team, covering three others. He had Red team move in parallel with the quarry, up the pier through the crowd, and he had Green team stay put, less some of them turn back.

The group stopped at the foot of the pier, and they turned inward, talking.

"Red Two, see if you can capture any of that."

There was a beep from the console; then, on the Green Team console, she saw a figure walk close to the group and bend down, to tie a shoe.

There was the murmur of crowd noise and "-the girls are cuter at Elephant and Castle."

"The beer is better at Yardo's."

"Why not split up?"

"Belay that! No splitting up. Those were the conditions for this liberty, remember? We're not leaving anyone behind."

"Aye, Chief. Shall we vote? Or flip a coin?"

"Vote," said the first voice, the one who wanted the pretty girls.

Good beer won out.

"Out of there, Red Two, before they make you. Red and Green teams meet transport at the far end of the taxi stand. It'll take them fifteen minutes to walk around to Yardo's." He switched to another channel and Patricia heard him ordering an unmarked boat to the pier. Then he switched back to their operations channel.

"Yellow and Orange teams, spread out on Shore Walk, Yellow first, Orange second.

Leapfrog them when they pass, using the Mall Walk. Report any deviation of path and if anybody splits off. As they pass, silent report with two beeps."

Major Paine released the transmit stud on his headset and said, "Emma, let's switch the status map to the four grids comprising the southeast quadrant of Palacios."

The map at the c4 station changed and the team symbols-formerly overlapping colored numbers-resolved to individual team members. The orange and yellow numbers were moving rapidly, a few up Shore Walk and the majority cutting behind, a full hex inward, then using local paths to reconnect to Shore Walk. The clustered red and blue numbers were out in the water, now aboard their boat, heading southwest.

"How are they tracking them?" Patricia wondered aloud.Major Paine said, "Calibrated GPS." He pointed at a console. "We receive the same GPS signals here, a known, fixed point, and calibrate from that. Accurate to five centimeters." He touched his headset. "Red and Blue team, we'll want to force a table at Yardo's, if possible. If necessary, I'll call the manager, but see if you can do it without."

"Force a table?" Patricia asked quietly.

Thomas leaned against her knee. "Like a magician forcing a card. Preselecting a card for them but making them think they've picked it themselves."

"What good does that do?"

Thomas grinned, a flash of white teeth, predatory. "Well, we're going to bug the table."

Major Paine turned his head, "Or tables. That might be best, even. Divide the juniors and the seniors, and either group might talk more freely." He touched the headset. "Red One, it's your call on the tables. Get plenty of chicle ready."

Red One replied, "Copy that. We're chewing so hard our jaws hurt."

"What's the gum for?"

Thomas laughed. "To hold the bugs to the bottom of the tables. They're small enough that the gum covers them completely. Even if they look under-" He shrugged.

"Won't the gum muffle them?"

"The table itself becomes a diaphragm."

Yellow team was reporting the passage of the quarry, and the c4 console operator, Emma, was manually moving a blinking dot up Shore Walk to reflect the information. The red and blue numerals moving in the bay curved back into Palacios, then touched and moved inward, the dots moving quickly.

The quarry moved past the last Yellow team member and into Orange team's purview. Emma zoomed in on the c4 display again, as the boundaries of action shrunk. The outlines of individual structures were clearly delineated now.

"Control, this is Red One. We've got four open tables, all six-seaters. We're going to bug them all with trilobed spacing." There was loud music in the background.

"Copy that, Red One. We'll need a reference source on that music."

"Yes, sir. How much time do we have?"