Jefferson the 31st could not live for ever, and when the time came to arrange the succession, Karlstrom intended to use AMEXICO's electronic expertise to help him eliminate his rivals.

There was now nothing held on the network controlled by COLOMBUS that could lead back to the organisation, and no one on the stricken wagon-train had survived.

The Lady from Louisiana had been completely gutted by further explosions and fire, leaving the team of investigators with little to poke through.

Brickman was the only person, outside his personal staff, who knew the source of the explosives that had crippled The Lady. Had it been anyone else, Karlstrom would have had them shafted, but young Mr Brickman - the hero of the hour - had too high a profile. He had become a credit to the organisation and for as long as he found favour with Fran Jefferson he was fireproof.

Unbelievable.

What made it worse was the fact that Brickman knew there had been some kind of cover-up. Somebody close to the P-G must have commented upon the 'official version' over the dinner table. And on the first, and so far only occasion, when Karlstrom had encountered Brickman in Cloudlands, he had asked, with disarming casualness, to speak with him in private.

Agreeing - after a suitable pause - Karlstrom had allowed the rising star to steer him towards one of the many ornate stone fountains that graced the formal garden areas in Cloudlands. The young man was learning fast.

Karlstrom played back their conversation on his mental tape-recorder, picturing the look of transparent honesty on Brickman's face - the kind of expression that only arch-deceivers can muster.

B: There's something I need to draw your attention to, sir. And since it's a rather delicate matter, it's probably better we do it here rather than in a more formal setting.

K: Okay. What's on your mind?

B: Well, sir, I recently heard a garbled account of the engagement between the Clan M'Call and The Lady, at North Platte, Nebraska ....

K: Go on.

B: There seemed to be certain inconsistencies with the facts as I remembered them, so I asked Miz Jefferson if she could access the official summaries for me. I hope that was okay?

K: I imagine that would depend on what you found.

B: Exactly, sir. It's the source of the explosives used to cripple The Lady. I was on board when she went up. It couldn't have been black powder, and gun-cotton fuses, sir. The blasts were too powerful, too well synchronised.

These were Federation demolition charges, detonated by battery-powered timing devices. Like the ones I found in the M'Call settlement. But there's no mention of them anywhere in these summaries.

K: I see. Did you mention this to Miz Jefferson? I imagine she would be interested to know why you wanted to access this material.

B: I haven't breathed a word to anyone, sir. And my interest in the summaries can be explained by the fact that I was involved in the operation.

K: Of course. Have you come to any conclusion based on what you have learned?

B: Well, sir, it would appear there's been some kind of cover-up. I obviously don't know at what level this occurred, but i felt duty-bound to draw it to your notice.

Whoever put those explosives into the hands of that fake SIG-INT unit bears a direct responsibility for the loss of The Lady from Louisiana.

I don't think the personnel involved should be left in a position where they can make the same kind of mistake again.

K: I agree.

B: The way I see it, sir, this is a strictly internal matter and should be dealt with on that basis. My overriding concern is to protect the good name of the organisation.

My a.s.s! thought Karlstrom. But what he had said was: 'I appreciate your concern." And then, quite stupidly, he had implicated himself by adding: 'You will find that the organisation knows how to look after its own."

What had prompted him, of all people, to say such a thing and play right into Brickman's hands?! Looking back, he could see why. Through Fran, Brickman had a direct route to the Oval Office. The slightest indiscretion on his part could open a can of worms that Karlstrom wanted to keep shut.

Officially, AMEXICO didn't exist. Karlstrom's official t.i.tle was Director of Operational Research - a sh.e.l.l organisation with its own staff. AMEXICO was the hidden kernel within. Its sole purpose was to achieve the aims and protect the a.s.s of the man in the Oval Office against his own kind if necessary. Jefferson the 31st would not do anything that might upset that arrangement - unless, of course, he suspected he was not being kept fully in the picture. If the true story behind the loss of The Lady came to light it could make him nervous.

And when President-Generals became nervous, no one was safe especially their nearest and dearest.

Thinking it over again, Karlstrom decided he was not in any immediate danger. brickman would keep silent because he thought he had acquired some leverage.

Karlstrom was happy to let him think this was the case.

It made him less dangerous.

For the moment, further overground a.s.signments were out of the question. The President-General wanted Brick-man to remain close to Clearwater. Karlstrom was only too pleased to oblige. He called Steve in and told him he was being temporarily rea.s.signed to the Eastern Desk; a department which a.n.a.lysed and collated data fed into AMEXICO from its contacts and agents inside Ne-Issan.

It wasn't a sinecure, or a pay-off for services rendered.

It was a responsible job in which Brickman's own direct experience of Iron Master society was a valuable a.s.set - especially now, after the catastrophic loss of the last trading expedition.

Brickman was a shrewd operator, with many admirable qualities, but for nearly two decades, Karlstrom had been eating guys like him for breakfast. That was why he was the head of AMEXICO. He was glad brickman had tried to lean on him. That took a lot of b.a.l.l.s. And that was the kind of man Karlstrom needed to help execute the plan he was putting together.

Cadillac was also making plans, and as Roz listened to him, she realised that in helping him, she could endanger Steve. Since responding to his call after Clearwater had been wounded, the telepathic link between them had stayed open. Karlstrom and his masters knew this.

They had agreed to rescue Clearwater just as they had responded to an earlier call to rescue Steve from the wheelboat on Lake Michigan. Now, following her last minute escape with Cadillac from the stricken wagon-train, Steve had made the fatal mistake of telling Karlstrom that she was safe and well.

He had avoided suspicion falling upon them both by pretending that she was being held prisoner by Cadillac, but that had only complicated the situation. Karlstrom knew that she could induce hallucinatory experiences, and might begin to wonder why she did not use this new power to free herself. And as long as he believed her to be alive and well, he could pressure Steve to maintain telepathic contact with her in order to find out what Cadillac was up to.

After having demonstrated how efficacious that telepathic link was, it would look distinctly odd if Steve now claimed he could not get through. There was an even greater danger. If The Federation got wind of Cadillac's plans and learned that she was helping him - against the Federation - Karlstrom might try to strike at her by harming Steve.

There was only one way to protect herself and Steve.

Roz Brickman had to 'die'. And in order to make it convincing, she had to warn Steve, then combine her powers in a new and terrifying way.

Fran emerged from the bathroom, tingling from a brisk rub-down after her morning shower to find Steve still lying in bed. She made a sarong of the bath towel and went over to haul him out of bed. As she got closer and saw his flushed face and drooping eyelids, she changed her mind. 'What's the matter, don't you feel well?"

'Not really, no. I don't know what the h.e.l.l it is, but I've been feeling a bit off colour, and late yesterday I started getting an odd tingling in my eyelids. Now they won't open properly, and something's happening in my throat."

Fran laid a hand on his forehead. 'Feels like your temperature's up, but it's not exactly raging. Stay there.

I'll call a doctor."

By the time Joshua admitted one of the Family doctors, Steve's eyelids were completely paralysed, and he had difficulty explaining what was wrong with him. The doctor prised his eyelids open, shone a light into his eyes, felt his throat, checked his temperature, took soundings with a stethoscope, then turned to Fran. 'Have any other people in Savannah been taken sick?"

Fran referred the question to Joshua, the grey-haired Mute who was Head of Service in the mansion.

'Not as far as I know, ma'am. Do you want me to make sure?"

'I think you'd better,' said the doctor. 'I can't be certain till we do some other tests, but it looks as if the captain's suffering from food poisoning - and it could be serious."

The diagnosis caused Fran to explode. 'Food poisoning?