In answer, Petronella reached into her purse, drew out an identicard, and handed it to Darlene.

"Whew." She gave a low whistle.

"What is it?" Jamil demanded, half sitting up.

"Stop moving!" Quong shouted, watching from the rearview mirror.

"FISA Internal Affairs. By G.o.d!" Darlene exclaimed in sudden understanding. "You're investigating Amadi, too!"

"I was," Petronella said pointedly. "Answer two questions for me. What are you people doing here on Del Sol and what is your man Tampambulos doing on Jango?"

"Answer me one question," Jamil returned. "What's keeping me from shooting you?"

"Nothing, I hope," Raoul murmured.

"I now have proof that the person I suspected in the Bureau is involved with the Hung," Petronella replied. "He's the only one who knew you people were on Del Sol, the only one who could have ordered you followed, the only one who could have ordered that hit. What I can't figure out is the connection between Xris on Jango with the Hung leaders and you people on Del Sol."

"I trust her," said Darlene to an obviously dubious Jamil. "We were thinking the same thing."

"All right." Jamil winced, put his hand to his head.

"We've been hired to foment a revolution on this planet," Darlene explained. "We are planning to overthrow this dictator Kirkov, save the dremecks before they're exterminated, and give them back their planet. But I don't know what that has to do with Xris."

"Let's say Kirkov is in league with the Hung," Petronella suggested thoughtfully. "You stage a revolution. He is deposed. The dremecks seize controla""

"Good G.o.d!" Darlene stared. "I think I know."

"What?" Jamil demanded, sitting upright.

"If you do not stop moving around," Quong said severely, "I will truss you up like a chicken. Darlene, be quiet. No more excitement."

"What is it?" Jamil whispered.

Darlene glanced at Doc's back and shook her head.

"Poor Xris," was all she said.

CHAPTER 35.

Struggling in my father's hands.

Striving against my swadling bands.

Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mother's breast.

William Blake, "Infant Sorrow"

"You have a concussion," said Dr. Quong. "You should rest and take it easy."

"Sorry, Doc, but I have a revolution to stage tonight. Besides, that instrument you stuck on the back of my head did the trick. No headache. No dizziness. I slept fine. How'sa""

"I relieved the symptoms. I did not cure the condition," Quong said ominously. "The tissue in the affected area is stilla""

"Thanks, Doc," Jamil interrupted, patting Quong on the shoulder. "Send me your bill. How'sa""

"If you fall into a coma, do not blame me," Quong continued.

"I won't, Doc. I promise. How's Raoul? He's suppose to meet Rusty Love's private barge in less than four hours. What's wrong? What is it?"

Quong was shaking his head. "I believe that Raoul may be dying."

"Dying?" Jamil was shocked. "But he was doing okay when we hauled him out of the ambulance. Well, when he saw the bruises on his neck last night he fainted, but bruises aren't fatal! What's wrong?"

"He has developed a dread of shopping," said Quong solemnly. "A phobia. He says that he can never go into a shopping mall again and therefore he sees no reason to live."

Jamil breathed a sigh of relief. "Is that all?"

"He is an Adonian, my friend," Quong reminded him. "First Harry's obnoxious suit, now an attack by a mannequin, a being in whom all Adonians place their trust. Raoul has suffered severe tormenta"by his standards, at least."

"He hasn't seen anything yet," Jamil predicted, looking grim. "Are the vids finished?"

"They are finished," said Quong. "Tycho and I completed them last night. We have some very nice footage of the dremecks marching through the main streets of the capital, dremecks surrounding the Royal Palace, dremecks rejoicing when word of Kirkov's surrender is broadcast. The dremecks are terrible actors. But they will be adequate for the purpose. Speaking of dremecks, the One has been here asking for you. He is very upset, my friend."

"Tell him I fell off the planet." Jamil hurried away to deal with his next crisis.

He pa.s.sed Darlene and Petronella, huddled together over Darlene's computer. The two had been working on the computer since the team's return from yesterday's disastrous shopping expedition. They had been there when Jamil had gone to bed last night and they were back at it again early this morning.

Jamil knew better than to ask them what they were doing and how they were coming along with it. He had tried twice already. The first time they hadn't heard hima"or if they had, they were ignoring hima"and the second time, when he'd insisted, they had said something to the effect that he wouldn't understand and it would take too long to explain and how was his headache and shouldn't he let Dr. Quong take a look at that nasty cut?

"I'd say that's conclusive," Petronella was saying as Jamil slowed his walk to overhear. "That's the account."

"Yes, no question," Darlene agreed. She looked tired but triumphant. "Of course, there's no name on it. We can't prove a thing."

"But if all this"a"Petronella waved her hand at a few pa.s.sing dremecksa""goes as planned, it won't matter."

"True," said Darlene. "Very true. Oh, Jamil. The One's been looking for you."

"I know. I'm avoiding him. How's it going?" Jamil asked, hovering.

The two women exchanged glances.

"Fine," they both said simultaneously.

"I'd be glad to tell you, Jamil," Darlene added, "but it's..."

"Restricted information," Petronella finished.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever. Just tell me one thing," Jamil said testily. The ache in his head was starting to return. "Does this restricted information have any bearing on what we've got coming down today?"

"No," Darlene replied. "It doesn't. Except..."

"Except what?"

"Except that it is now more important than ever that we proceed with our plans."

"Uh-huh. And you're not going to tell me why."

"Official business," said Petronella, and d.a.m.ned if she didn't reach for her FISA identicard.

Jamil ignored her. "Is Xris involved?" he asked Darlene. "You can tell me that much, I suppose."

"Yes, but we're not sure how. We think Harry's in on this, as well. That's why he sounded strange on the commlink. We do know that there's nothing we can do for either of them, nothing except go ahead with what we're already doing."

She gave him a wary smile. "If it's any consolation, we are working on the side of the angels."

Jamil grunted, not impressed. "Are you going to be ready to leave on time?"

"After I take a nap," Darlene replied. "Then I'll be ready. How's your head?"

"The information's restricted," Jamil snapped, and continued on.

That was a cheap shot. Jamil had been in the military. He knew all about restricted information. This was government business and the government had a right to its secrets. What stung and rankled was the fact that he knew d.a.m.n well Darlene would have told Xris. Jamil felt the first pang of jealousy he'd ever experienced in all his years working with the team.

He continued on to the team's quarters, in search of Raoul.

The Adonian, resplendent in a red embroidered silk bed jacket, lay in bed, propped up with at least six pillowsa" Jamil recognized his own special orthopedic pillow among them.

The Little One was seated at Raoul's side, holding his hand and gazing at him sadly.

"I will wear the black silk moir at the funeral," Raoul was saying. "Not the one with the pearl bead cuffs. The one with the mauve crystals at the throat. You must send for Dallie Pah to do my hair and my nails. She'll cry and carry on, but you will be firm, my friend." He gave a delicate shudder. "I don't trust those so-called cosmetologists who work for the embalmers."

The fedora nodded.

"Now," Raoul continued, "you must keep a watch out for Raj Vu. If he attends the funeral wearing his black silk moir tuxedo, you must run and let me know so that I can changea""

The Little One said something at this juncture.

Raoul listened, pondered, then sighed. "Quite right. I had forgotten." He almost frowned. Remembering in time that frowning caused wrinkles, he smoothed his hand over his forehead and said plaintively, "There are disadvantages, aren't there?"

He shifted on his elbow, appealed to his friend. "Raj Vu wouldn't wear his black silk, do you think? He wouldn't upstage me at my own funeral?"

The Little One shook the fedora, not at all sanguine as to Raj Vu's intents.

"You're right," said Raoul bitterly. "He would. Very well. I shall wear the purple taffeta."

The Little One made wild gesticulations.

"I know," said Raoul in martyred tones. "I was going to save that for the entombment in the Hall of Fashion mausoleum, but it can't be helped."

Jamil had been standing and listening in a certain horrible fascination, until he remembered that the minutes were counting down. Coming to his senses, he barged into the room, interrupting Raoul in his instructions on the various precious objects that were to be placed with him in his tomb.

"My makeup kit. That's a must. The beaded purse with the blue spangles. Yes, I know it's a bit formal, but we have always been told that heaven requires black tie. There is the chance that heaven might prove to be a masquerade, in which case you should include my feathered maska""

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Jamil demanded.

"I have lost the will to live," Raoul replied with dignity, adding, "Hand me my blush, will you? No, not the coral. The pinka""

Jamil picked up the compact, prepared to throw it at Raoul's head as he unleashed the torrent of choice Army vernacular that would wash Raoul right out of his deathbed and slam him up against the far cavern wall. The Little One was already crawling under the bed....

But Jamil halted, almost choking himself on the words surging up into his throat. He had always marveled at the way Xris handled Raoul, coaxing, pleading, and even tricking the Adonian into doing things he never would have considered doing. Such as wearing bright yellow overalls emblazoned with a large red beetle.

Jamil let the bad words escape in a hiss. He regained control of his temper, struggled to rearrange a furious scowl into fond compa.s.sion, and gazed down at Raoul.

"I heard," Jamil said in dirgelike tones. He rested a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'll miss you. We all will. I guess..." Jamil choked, paused a moment to recover himself. After wiping his eyes, he carried on bravely. "I guess it's up to me to meet Rusty Love at the s.p.a.ceport."

"Give him my regards," said Raoul, much affected by Jamil's emotion. He brushed Jamil's hand with his fingertips. "Tell him that when he speaks of me ... and he will speak of me ... to be kind...."

"Yes, yes." Jamil blew his nose loudly. The Little One had emerged from beneath the bed, resumed his seat. He had pulled the fedora down his face. His shoulders were shaking. "I'm sure Rusty will be devastated. But there's this bar I know of in the city. We'll go there and drink a couple of beers in your memorya""

"Beer!" Raoul coughed up the word as if it were a hair-ball. "Rusty Love is an Adonian! He drinks only champagne! The best champagne. It is, after all, in memory of me." He modestly lowered his blue-glazed eyelids.

"Yes, you're right. We'll spare no expense," Jamil said, adding enthusiastically, "Wine coolers. This place has the best wine coolers. The coconut banana"a"Raoul turned his face to the pillowa""really glues the old tongue to the pallet," Jamil continued enthusiastically. "After that, I'll drop Rusty Love off at his motel. The We're Not Inn. Get it? Pretty clever, huh? They have hot water ... most of the time, at least ... and he'll get a clean towel every other day."

"My poor Rusty," Raoul moaned.

The Little One patted his friend's hand.

"Do you think I should?" Raoul asked, shifting his head to look at his friend. "Consider ... consider that I ... I can never again go shopping!" This brought on a torrent of sobbing. The Little One continued to press home his arguments.

"You're right," Raoul gulped, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. "I suppose I could go in for therapy. It would take years, of course, but perhaps someday..."

The Little One spoke again.

"Coconut banana. I remember." Raoul gagged. Sitting up in bed, he reached out his hand, clasped Jamil's arm, and said dramatically, "I live."

"You'll meet Rusty at the s.p.a.ceport, make certain he knows what to do and when to do it?" Jamil demanded.

Raoul sniffed and delicately blew his nose. "No one knows the sacrifices I make for my friends."

The Little One nodded emphatically.

If Xris had been there, Jamil could have expressed his doubts about trusting one Adonian Loti, much less two Adonian Lotis.