"I don't understand why my father has anything to do with this. And if you want protection, I can get ReseuneSec to go wherever you are"

"Thieu," she interrupted him, and somewhere in the background there was a noise, a thump, of some sort. "Oh my G.o.d," she said. "Warrick, tell them! Tell them!"

"Tell them what?"

"Clavery! The name is Anton Clavery! Just"

Something thumped. The phone quit. He grabbed his own robe, shoved his arms into the sleeves and headed past the end of the bed, out of the bedroom, taking down the small, useless table next to the door as he headed down the hall. Lights in the living area had come on, where Grant had pa.s.sed.

He got that far before the front door opened and black-uniformed security came bursting inMarco and Wes, specifically, night shift, with Grant's conspicuous red head just beyond that tall blot of black uniforms.

"Her phone went dead," he said, out of breath. "I recorded it, as far as it went." In that moment Catlin arrived, in a black tee and workout pants, unarmed, to all appearances, and probably straight from bed, while Marco walked over and took a look at the house minder unit. He didn't know which one to address, or which, Marco or Catlin, was technically in charge. And he had a shaky moment of realizing he, ReseuneSec's main target for years, had been babbling in that call, urging a woman's cooperation with ReseuneSec, anxious to keep himself and Grant safe from whatever d.a.m.ned fool thing Jordan had brought on them in his eternal feud with Adminand too sure, maybe, that his father hadn't had anything to do with whatever was going on in Novgorod. He felt a vague sense of shame about turning coat on his father. But not enough. That collection of ReseuneSec in the hallthat had been Ari, young Ari, taking real power over a segment of that organization that had repeatedly arrested him. And he had urgently to deal with themfor Grant's sake. "Catlin, it was Patil on the phone. Something's wrong. She needs help. Security. Fast. She's saying Thieu was killed. Someone interrupted her on the phone. Apparently violently."

Catlin didn't waste a breath. She had her com unit, and delivered a fast message somewhere that consisted of, "Information on Patil. Code 10. Her residence?" The last was a question aimed at him.

"I think it was," he said. "Residence." Second thought. "Maybe her office. I don't know."

"Residence and office," Catlin said into the com. "Stat, find her, wherever she is." She broke the contact. Grant, meanwhile, had gotten past building security at the door, still with the robe held like a towel, and Florian showed up behind him in the bottom half of a workout suit, dark hair in its usual curling disarray.

"Sera's awake," Florian said. "Ser Warrick. Did you call Dr. Patil?"

He shook his head. "She called me, out of nowhere. Said Thieu was dead."

Up went the com unit, same fast contact. Florian said, into it: "Planys-Sec, report on status of Dr. Raymond Thieu, researcher, retired."

There was perhaps a brief silence on that contact. Grant made a quiet move toward him. Building security moved to restrain him. Catlin simply lifted a hand, on the phone with someone else, and security stood down, letting Grant through.

He grabbed Grant by the arm, in no mood to have them separately questioned. Gone over. Drugged. Any of those things. "I'm worried about my father," he said to Florian. "She said someone was inside. On the inside."

"Thieu is dead," Florian said. It was a measure of trust that someone of Florian's nature gave a piece of information to an outsider. And Florian immediately thumbed b.u.t.tons on the com and called someone else. "Guard alert, Jordan Warrick's residence. See to his safety. Report."

"Thanks," Justin said quietly. Two more individuals in security uniform had shown up at the door, and found their way in, people Justin had seen at Ari's door this evening, people with the com rig and armament of personnel on duty. Her people. He stood there. He didn't know what to do. He was in the middle of the mess, as clued in as anyone could be without that vital comlink. Meanwhile Grant, unflapped, dropped half his hold on the robe, calmly sorted out the top of it and put it on, tying it this time.

"Young sera, I believe, is more than awake," Grant said, indicating it wasn't all a case of Catlin and Florian running things at the moment.

"Your father has answered his phone, ser," Florian said, "and agents are on their way to his door."

That was a relief. He hadn't known how much relief. He was scared for Jordan. He didn't know why he was. Jordan hadn't earned it, giving him that card. But he was glad to know Ari's version of ReseuneSec was between Jordan and anything else stupid. He moved quietly over to the sideboard, out of the way, his own foyer and his living room having become security central in the last few moments. Feigning calm, he started to ask Grant to pour them both a vodka and orange, but at just that moment Ari showed up in the foyer, in a night robe, and with her dark hair in a pigtail.

"Justin?" she asked.

"It's the card," he said. "It's that d.a.m.ned card. I don't know what's going on. Patil called, for no apparent reason, except she found out Thieu's dead and then something happened when she was calling us. We have no idea. Would you like a vodka and orange?"

"I think I'd love one."

"Sera," Catlin said to her, "agents have entered Dr. Patil's residence. They were on watch. They saw no one. But Patil has fallen out her window."

"Fatally."

"Quite fatally, sera. It's twelve stories."

"Oh, this is splendid!"

Grant had gone after the drinks. Justin stood frozen, rethinking what Patil had said last.

"Anton Clavery," he said, then. "She gave that name, beforewhatever happened."

"The name is a new one," Catlin remarked.

"We recorded everything, from the start. It's all on the system, fast as Grant could get over and push the b.u.t.ton."

"Why would she call you?" Ari asked.

"I haven't the least notion," he began, then: "h.e.l.l. Yes, I do. She asked if I could get Jordan down the hall. She had my number, not his. She hashadno concept of where we live, or the conditions he lives in. She couldn't get through security to phone him."

Catlin lifted a pale eyebrow, that was all. He suddenly wondered if that last statement was even true, or if for some unfathomed reason, Patil had specifically wanted to go through himand just gave a wave of his hand.

"It's all recorded. It's what she said. I don't know if she was telling the truth. She was upset. I guess she had reason." He wanted to ask if Thieu had died of natural causes, curiosity being as natural to him as breathing; but no, he didn't want to know that. He didn't want to know anything about it.

Grant showed up with three drinks, poured the fast way, from the autobar unit. It was rescue. He presented the first to Ari, and only then it occurred to him that Ariane Emory didn't drink things handed to her by people who'd just occasioned a midnight security alert.

But this Ari did, with only a little lift of her own brow. "Can we sit in your front room? It seems we're all in the way here. It's become ops. I do apologize for that."

"Certainly," he said, and showed her in, past Grant, at the small bar. "Sorry to have waked the whole house."

"Thieu and Patil. What do you think?"

Sideways jolt. She was good at that.

And two new thoughts hove onto the horizon, desperate and little likely. "Maybe someone's trying to involve my father. Maybe he thought that card somehow involved me in the first place. I don't know what went through his mind."

"Would he be honest with you if you asked?"

Because they couldn't legally use anything but truthers on Jordan, and Jordan could beat those.

"I don't know. He's not speaking to me at the moment. Not sincenot since that dinner."

"I think it's a good moment for you to talk to him. I think it's a logical moment."

One thing Ari had was a sense of timing. He could appreciate iteven if he had rather walk barefoot into the wilderness. "I won't go there with Grant."

"Grant won't stay here," Grant said. "Dammit, Grant."

"I take it I have leave to defend myself."

"Absolutely," Ari said.

"Ari." Justin rounded on her with no hesitation. "If anything happens to himI will never forgive it."

"If anything happens," she said "Florian will be through, that door faster than you can blink."

"And if I go there with your entourage, he won't say a thing."

"Try," she said.

Try. He looked at Grant, not at all liking it. He set the drink down, scarcely touched: he was going to need all his mental resources.

"Sorry to desert you," he said, pro forma, and went back down the hall to the bedroom, righted the damaged table. Grant followed him.

"Sorry," Grant said, "but you're no safer in that apartment than I am. Two of us"

"My own father," he said bitterly. "You know, among born-men, that's actually supposed to count for something."

"Two CITs are dead," Grant said somberly. "And, I repeat, you're not safe."

"d.a.m.n," he said, and grabbed random clothes from the closet.

Chapter iii.

June 12, 2424 0211 H.

Press of the b.u.t.ton. Possibly the minder was set to ignore commotion at this hour. Justin knocked at the door. Forcefully.

"Ser," Florian said, and reached past him with a keycard. The door opened, and Florian pushed the door open, but Justin put out an arm, barring his way.

"My father. Let me handle it alone. Please'. There's nothing wrong. Reasonable people are asleep at this hour."

"Call out to him," Florian said, not giving an inch. "Dad?" he called out. "Jordan?"

Lights came up suddenly, throwing the apartment into brightnessan apartment like the one they'd had, once, much the same design, dining counter, kitchen, living area, all together & it evoked nostalgia every time he entered it.

"Go," he said to Florian. "Wait outside. I'll get better answers."

"Block the door open until you're sure," Florian said, and went outside, leaving him, and Grant, Grant's foot blocking the door from automatically shutting.

Paul came out first, in his nightrobe, Paul, looking as well-groomed and civilized as usual. Jordan followed, much the same.

"Dad," he said, "there's an alarm on. You know that card you gave me? Patil's dead. Thieu's dead."

Jordan stood there, raked a hand through his hair, didn't say anything except, "Come in."

Grant drew his foot from the door. It shut. Jordan was on his way to the couch. Paul was on his way to the bar.

"No drinks, thanks," he said, and he and Grant sat down.

"I'll have one," Jordan said. "How did you get in?"

"Florian," he said. Leveling with Jordan was the best policy, if it was something that obvious. "Sorry about that, but if they're killing off people on Thieu's social list, I wanted to be sure you were all right. What in h.e.l.l's going on?"

He had Jordan at rare disadvantage. And with a clank of gla.s.ses and two fast jets from the dispenser behind the bar, Paul was rapidly preparing a distraction.

"Dad."

"Oh, cut the 'Dad,' boy."

"Well, I try. I'm here. Patil called me before she died."

"Florian's out there?"

"I figured he wouldn't add to the social setting. Yes, d.a.m.ned right I called security. Dr. Patil was upset. She wanted me to go down the hall and get you. She said she had my number and called me because she couldn't get through to you."

"Nice." Jordan took the drink Paul handed him, had a sip. "So my own appeal couldn't get you through my door, but you don't mind bringing the little dear's guards to burgle my apartment."

"I was concerned for your safety. She was talking about somebody inside, Dad. Who would that be?"

"The possibilities are endless. Ari, some CITgetting an azi past Reseune Supervisors wouldn't be easy, but with inside help, who knows? Are we worried about a.s.sa.s.sins?"

"I'm worried for your safety. I'm worried for Grant's and Paul's. They didn't ask to get involved in whatever crazy mess you're in. Planys is a small place. Everybody knows everybody. Who would have killed an old man who didn't have long to live anyway?"

"A long list of volunteers," Jordan said, and took a drink of what looked like vodka. "The man was an insufferable egotist."

Justin sat back against the couch, crossed one leg over the other. "I thought you were friends."

"Society there is spa.r.s.e."

"Come on, Jordan. Tell me. What happened? I know you didn't kill Ari. Everybody knows it. You were bitter, you wanted to strangle Denys, that didn't happen, and you spent nearly twenty years in the company of a doddering old guy with an ego. That, I understand. But if this guy had a.s.sociates that were getting to him past the security screen at PlanysLabs, where were they? How was Patil involved? why were you carrying her card around? And why in b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did you dump it on me?"

"So Ari's got you asking her questions, has she?"

"I'm asking my own d.a.m.n questions. I wouldn't have, if you hadn't shoved that card off on me, and if Patil hadn't called me in the middle of the night a few minutes before someone shoved her out a twelfth-story windowI call that involvement. I call that a d.a.m.ned mess, and if you've got any key to Thieu's goings-on at Planys, I want it!"

"What? Afraid your nice career's getting tarnished?"

"I'm afraid my father's trying to tarnish it, thanks. I'm afraid my father's decided to carry on a stupid war with a dead woman and can't figure out what year it is!"

"Justin," Grant said, a calm-down.

Jordan grinned. "Got to you, did I?"

"It's not a d.a.m.n game!"

"Isn't it? I don't get out much lately. I need some amus.e.m.e.nt."