Steve knew if he wanted to be taken seriously, he couldn't dodge the question any longer. 'Find a way of returning her to the overground."

'Bravo! Now we're talking."

'But once she was set free, she would pose a new threat to the Federation. Aiding and abetting her escape would be treason. A Code One offence which would be impossible to justify."

'That would depend on how you define treason, Brick-man.

There are offences and offences. Some of our own internal operations contravene the Federation legal codes. And I know you're not going to try to tell me you've done everything by the Book."

Karlstrom took another look out of the window then throttled back to reduce the drumming of the wheels on the track. 'I'm going to tell you something. And this is strictly between you and me - okay."? I don't regard Mute magic as a long-term threat to our survival. The greatest danger comes from people inside the Federation who take it seriously."

'But, sin earth-magic is for real! I've seen it with my- ' Karlstrom cut him short. 'I'm not denying its existence.

What I'm saying is - it's not part of the future! It's an aberration!

Something that belongs to a distant age, way beyond what the Mutes call the Old Time, when hairy-a.s.sed apemen with inch-high foreheads and jaws like 'dozer buckets were knocking sparks off flints to make fire.

'I've read practically all the data COLUMBUS holds on.the pre-Holocaust era. Even in the period just before America burned there were people with special gifts who were able to find water and stuff like that.

But they didn't rearrange the landscape by shouting at it - like our friend Clearwater. There was no magic then, just conjuring tricks '

'Sir...?"

'Illusions, fakery, sleight-of-hand- like the guys on the mess-deck who score credits off you by moving a deck of cards around."

'Ahh, yehh, I see."

'You have to revise your whole mental approach to this,' said Karlstrom. 'Don't think of these people as being "gifted", think of them as freaks, throwbacks to the time when everyone lived like the Mutes. That primitive mode of existence produces a special and very intense kind of relationship with their environment.

'Make no mistake, there are dynamic forces which permeate the earth and sky. We already know what some of them are. In another thousand years we'll probably be using them the way we use electricity now. But no one will call it magic. And there'll be no more wordsmiths, summoners and seers."

'Why not. 'Progress .... ' Karlstrom paused to exchange waves with a group of Trackers supervising a track-maintenance detail. 'The Plainfolk have got three ways to go. They can get wiped out, fall under our control and end up in work-camps like the Southern Mutes, or they can hold the line - keep us at bay. To have a hope of doing that, they have to make a giant leap forward. They not only have to be better armed, they have to undergo a complete change of lifestyle."

'And that will change their present relationship with their environment. They'll lose touch. And when that happens. there'll be no more earth-magic."

'Exactly,' said Karlstrom. 'You got it in one."

'Not a very pleasing prospect for the people running this psionics outfit you mentioned."

Karlstrom's face darkened. 'I don't think we need worry about those guys. They'll soon find something else to hitch their wagon to."

'But at the moment, their research programme is fully approved by the President-General."

Karlstrom was too fly to fall for that one. 'It's approved by everyone, Brickman - including you..."

'Absolutely, sir."

'And there's something else we need to get straight. I know it's your friend Clearwater who's been zapping the surveillance cameras, but at the moment no one else does. I'm happy to leave it that way providing you tell her to knock it off. Any further disruption could seriously jeopardise our interests and by that I mean yours, hers and mine. You got that?"

'Yes, sir."

'You will only be allowed this one visit. You will not reveal any details of this up-coming mission, or even that you will soon be leaving the Federation."

'No, sir!"

'Okay. Now for my part, I will ensure that no harm comes to her while you're away. In fact, I guarantee it."

'Thank you, sir."

'And in return, a.s.suming you get back in one piece, you and I will have to put our heads together and decide what is to be done with her.

What's best for all of us. Give the matter some thought while you're away."

'I will, sir .... ' 'Okay. We've said all there is to say." Pulling the peak of his engineer's cap down over his eyes, Karlstrom resumed his Man of Destiny stance at the driver's window and laid a firm hand on the throttle. 'Back to work, Brickman. Start hauling wood!"

Yesss-sirrrr ....

CHAPTER FIVE.

The sudden convergence of so many high-born supporters of the progressive party did not escape the notice of the agents that Lord Ieyasu had managed to station inside the domain of the Yama-s.h.i.ta and elsewhere.

Despite a great deal of effort and ingenuity, he had not succeeded in placing an agent in a key long-term position within the palace walls, but that had ceased to be a problem. Two years ago, one of his special agents, trained in the ancient arts of the ninja to perform what were often suicide missions, had succeeded in planting an electronic bug in the main council chamber before his presence was detected. Unable to escape, he had killed himself.

To the Yama-s.h.i.ta family it looked like a failed a.s.sa.s.sination attempt which was also strangely ill-timed since Lord Hirohito, the presumed target, was absent on a tour of his domain. But the ninja had done his work well.

The chamber was used for important policy meetings, and the miniaturised listening device had relayed a great deal of useful intelligence to a secret listening post aboard an innocent-looking fishing boat that always cast its nets within a mile of the palace ramparts.

Ieyasu had been a.s.sured that the small, bean-sized battery - another long-dog miracle - had one more year of life, but now, as the age-old rivals of the TohYota gathered to plot new treasons, the device had fallen silent.

How tiresome! thought Ieyasu. Never mind. His network was resilient.

Messages would be sent, ways would be found. And if all else failed, he could always rely on Domain-Lord Kiyo Min-Orota, a true and trusted ally who had already pa.s.sed on the wording of the invitation he had received to join a group of like-minded friends at Sarakusa.

Ieyasu was right about Sakimoto's motives for inviting his fellow-progressives, but he was wrong about the reason for the break in transmission. The electronic bug had not suffered battery failure; its presence had been detected and its location revealed by Cadillac.

Acting on a wild hunch, he used parts of the radio equipment stripped from the damaged Skyhawk to sweep several key areas of the palace, including the main conference chamber. Just when he was about to give up, the tell-tale feed-back noise had led him to the device which had been embedded in the underside of the long, low, eight-legged table.

After examining the bug, he deactivated it then restored it to its hiding place. There was no point in showing it to the Regent, Aishi Sakimoto, ahead of the meeting.

The device itself was physically insignificant and would mean nothing to anyone who had not grasped the concept of electronic surveillance.

It needed to be woven into a carefully-prepared scenario and revealed with a dramatic flourish when he had secured the undivided attention of his powerful audience. He had promised them proof of the Toh-Yotas treachery, and he intended to supply it.

The Skyhawk transceiver unit contained a tape-deck with an eight-hour digital ca.s.sette which enabled pilots to record ground-to-air or air-to-air conversations. Using his gift of mimicry and his fluent grasp of j.a.panese, Cadillac recorded two voices from a sending and receiving station, in which the sender reported that the secret conference summoned by the Yama-s.h.i.ta was now underway, but that the listening device had suddenly stopped relaying the voices of the conspirators.

Both speakers referred to the Lord Chamberlain and the TohoYota by name, their voices rising and fading against a background of static created by rustling a crumpled piece of rice-paper close to the tiny microphone.