When they stepped out of the elevator at Grand Palisades, the P-G's guests were already filing down the carpeted steps' into the viewing theatre. This time, there was an ensign posted by the door and armed with a scan board and a light pen. He checked everyone off as they entered and gave them a seat number. It was a full house. Steve and Fran had drawn seats in the centre of the fourth row, but as they settled in, he saw people preparing to sit on the aisle steps by the exit doors.

This time Steve was better prepared for what he was about to see. He had cottoned on to the idea the characters in movies were impersonated by 'actors' in the same way that Side-Winder had disguised himself as a Mute. So he was not at all perplexed when John Wayne put in an appearance as a marine sergeant in an army where they didn't wear rac.o.o.n-skin hats.

The movie was called Sands oflwo-Jirna- a story about men trying to capture a heavily-defended island. The one disappointment was the lack of colour. The movie was set in a drab grey world, but it was still an enthralling experience.

The big surprise came in the shape of the enemy.

The tenacious defenders of the island were j.a.panese, but the only connection with the Iron Masters he had encountered were the samurai swords carried by the officers. In every other respect, the soldiers were part of a recognisable modern army with modern weapons.

Steve was completely baffled. If they'd reached that stage a thousand years ago, why were they now riding around in suits of armour, brandishing spears and firing bows and arrows? What was it about the past that made them and the First Family want to put the clock back?

The curtains closed, the music ended. Everyone stood up and waited until Jefferson the 31st and the top-ranking bra.s.s left, then joined the general exodus. Steve waited while Fran gathered her skirts together then followed her along the row of seats.

She took his arm as they reached the aisle. 'Did you enjoy it?"

'Yes, amazing - but it looks like you didn't."

'Oh, no, it's not the film." 'She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. 'It's sitting down in this G.o.ddam corset. It's practically cut me in half! Come on, let's get a drink."

Four glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceiling of what was called the Rose Room, and beneath them, liveried Mute servants carried trays of drinks and snacks to the chattering cl.u.s.ters of movie-goers and house* residents who'd dropped in to spread or catch up with the latest scuttle-but.

Fran introduced Steve to a trio of women who were obviously old friends,-but he soon found himself on the margin of an animated conversation about someone he had never met. Making his excuses, he slipped away, culled a gla.s.s of wine from a pa.s.sing tray and set about inspecting the paintings hung on the walls of the Rose Room.

The only pictures in the underground Federation were those supplied on screen by the nine tv channels, or the holographic portraits of the President-General. These were different. They reminded him of the decorated screens and wall-panels he'd seen in Ne-Issan.

As he stared up at a large framed portrait of a man dressed in a strange hat, long jacket and knee breeches, and carrying a long-barrelled rifle and accompanied by two four-legged relatives of the jackal, .he became conscious of someone standing beside him.

It was Karlstrom. 'What did you think of the movie?"

Steve told him - and relayed his puzzlement about why the Iron Masters had chosen to go backwards in time instead of forwards.

Karlstrom smiled and made a sweeping gesture. 'The answers are all here in Cloudlands, Brickman. But your trouble is you want to know everything, and you want to know it now. Slow down. You'll get a great deal further if you take one small step at a time. But let me give you a friendly warning. There's a saying- "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing". Knowing too much can also be bad for your health."

They both saw Fran making her way towards them.

Karlstrom's voice changed gear - becoming louder and more abrasive.

'So tell me - are you pleased to have your bed-mate back?" He acknowledged her arrival with a wintry smile and raised his gla.s.s. 'We were just celebrating your safe return, weren't we?"

Steve felt Fran's fingers slide through his left hand and tighten. He returned the supportive squeeze. 'I'm certainly glad things worked out, sir, but I thought you had given me the job of managing the hand-over. It was only when I discovered Clearwater had gone missing from her room in the Life Inst.i.tute - and ran into a wall of silence that I realised it had gone ahead without me."

'Ye-ess." Karlstrom eyed them both. 'A change of plan.

The P-G decided the job should be given to someone else. And I agreed.

Let's face it, you'd already managed to lose Commander Franklynne once.

Another foul-up would have reflected badly on the organisation."

'I can see that, sir - but why wasn't I told?"

Karlstrom gave a dry laugh. 'I think you overestimate your importance, Brickman. You're just a member of the team. An elite team with a good track record. Don't do anything to spoil it."

'No, sir .... ' Steve stiffened to attention and held his salute as Karlstrom walked away.

'The b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" breathed Fran. 'After all you've done.

Don't worry, we'll wipe the smile off his face one of these days .... '

Steve was destined to see that face. the very next day. A trim female lieutenant wearing White House insignia on her olive green fatigues beckoned him out of the lunch line-up on the language lab's mess-deck and took him through the usual obstacle course of card-controlled turnstiles and elevators to their leader.

Karlstrom met him with a firm handshake as he entered, and shepherded him to the chair in front of the desk which was only marginally less splendid than the one in the Oval Office.

'Sorry to spoil your lunch, but I've got a tight schedule.

If you're hungry I can call you up a snack tray."

'No need, sir - but thank you." What was happening?

Steve could not remember Karlstrom ever apologising for anything.

'Okay. I'll get to it." Karlstrom leaned forward and laid his hands carefully on the desktop. 'I just want to explain that little exchange we had last night. That put-down over Clearwater was purely for Commander Franklynne's benefit. You, unfortunately, were the meat in the grinder. I felt it necessary to explain that personally, and to reaffirm your standing within this organisation.

We still regard you as a key player."

'Thank you, sir." Boy! thought Steve. This really is a snakepit! He laid on some clear-eyed sincerity. 'I'm grateful for this opportunity to see you, sir, because there's something I think you ought to know.

Commander Franklynne was visited by Cadillac while she was held at Sara-kusa and ' 'He gave her information that she intends to use to discredit me."

'Yes, sir. She didn't tell me what it was, but I think it could be related to that problem we talked over last year in Cloudlands. About The Lady from Louisiana."

Karlstrom nodded and sat back. 'I remember it well.

And you're right on the b.u.t.ton. Your bed-mate has already paid me a visit and threatened to make trouble if I don't fall into line on certain sensitive issues."

'And can she...?"

'She has no hard evidence to support her claim. We could argue that Cadillac's motive in saying what he did was to create internal dissension - and thus wreak more damage on the Federation." Karlstrom settled deeper into his chair, steepled his fingers and tapped them thoughtfully against his chin. 'But if you, for example, were to tell her what you told The surprises were never-ending. 'Finger the organisation...?"

'Think about it. Apart from the wing-men who were already airborne, you're the only survivor. And you're the only man who was on The Lady when those explosions occurred - and lived to tell the tale. That makes you a key witness."

'But ' 'Just reveal your suspicions, Brickman. About the nature and force of the explosions and your conclusions as to how the material may have fallen into the wrong hands. What you do not tell her is that you actually found the M'Calls' cache of PX, dets and one-oh-eights and let it slip through your fingers. She knows you're not perfect but there's no need to give the impression she's working with an idiot. Just feed her enough to make her feel that (a) she's got a hot lead on this story, and (b) she has you in her pocket."

'And then what?"

Karlstrom threw up his hands. 'Let's see where it takes US."

When the right moment came, and Fran's head lay close to his on the pillow, Steve rolled over to bring his mouth close to her ear, and whispered the poisoned words as per instructions. The c.u.mulative effect on Fran was almost o.r.g.a.s.mic - lending substance to the saying that power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. She kissed him fiercely, hugged him to the point of suffocation then leapt out of bed to send a video-gram to her father.

Theodore Bulloch Jefferson. Known to his friends and enemies as 'Bull'.