Part 4 (1/2)

”I know,” Flint said. ”And like I said, this is all supposition. I'm trained to look for the worst case. Best case is exactly what you said in the beginning. Your mother is gone, so the Gyonnese no longer have any interest in our family.”

”You don't think that's what's going to happen, though, do you?” Talia asked. ”The fact of your mother's kidnapping bothers me more than anything,” Flint said. ”It means that as of six months ago, the Gyonnese were still trying to prosecute this crime in a way that'll satisfy their people.”

”And you think they're going to keep trying,” Talia said.

”I hope not,” Flint said. ”But we have to be prepared for it.”

”Are we?” Talia asked.

He nodded. ”I've already got some plans in place for the two of us. I hadn't counted on five other viable clones.”

Talia raised her head. ”Maybe the Gyonnese won't find them. Maybe they're not looking.” ”But if they are,” Flint said, ”I need to know what you did.”

That guarded look returned to Talia's face. ”What do you mean?”

”To find the others. I need to know how you tracked them down.”

”It wasn't hard,” she said, ”once I knew what to look for.”

”Walk me through it,” he said.

”Why?” she asked. ”Won't that get their attention?”

He smiled gently at her. ”I'm good at what I do. I'm hoping we have the time to cover the tracks you laid.”

”And if we don't?” Talia asked.

His smile faded. ”We'll find out soon enough.”

5.

Noelle DeRicci sat at her desk, watching the screen she had called up in the middle of the room. The screen covered her floor-to-ceiling windows and stretched from the comfortable chair on the right side of the room to the large green tree-thing on the left.

The screen itself was clear, which made the images look like they were acted out especially for her, on the white carpet that she still hadn't managed to get rid of.

In the center of those images: Ki Bowles, looking smug, not knowing what a disaster faced her at the end of the story. Bowles was standing in front of the Armstrong City Complex, her strawberry hair setting off those goofy tattoos that covered her nasty face.

”Given her history with various alien cultures,” Bowles was saying, ”many have asked if we should trust Noelle DeRicci to handle all of the Moon's security.”

”Many,” DeRicci snarled. She always snarled at this point in the story. ”Meaning you you.” She knew she should shut the vid off, but she couldn't. The d.a.m.n story was back, and even though the media cited it as the source of Bowles's disgrace, they still reran the d.a.m.n thing.

DeRicci had already gotten calls from the media center, asking how she wanted to handle this. But she was older than she had been when Ki Bowles first attacked her. Older, wiser, and used to inane media coverage, no matter how hurtful.

DeRicci had told the media center that the only comment they should issue was this one: The story that Ki Bowles is covering has nothing to do with the United Domes of the Moon or its security chief. Our comments on the discredited story that got Ms. Bowles fired six months ago are all on the record. We have nothing to add. The story that Ki Bowles is covering has nothing to do with the United Domes of the Moon or its security chief. Our comments on the discredited story that got Ms. Bowles fired six months ago are all on the record. We have nothing to add.

DeRicci figured that would have to do.

Still, she was wallowing. She didn't have to watch this. Technically, she had won this battle. Bowles had been fired over this story, her career in tatters.

Yet she was back, with some kind of sensational piece about the law firm Wagner, Stuart, and Xendor, which created its own problems for DeRicci's office.

DeRicci's boss, Cecelia Alfreda, the governor-general of the Moon, had once worked for WSX. She still kept them as her personal attorneys.

DeRicci hoped that someone would find a way to discredit Bowles's latest story. Otherwise the media center would have a lot more to do than defend DeRicci against ancient charges. It would have to defend the governor-general against whatever scandal Bowles thought she had uncovered.

Finally DeRicci waved a hand. ”Off,” she said to the office system. The images on the screen winked out, and then it disappeared, leaving the windows unblocked for the first time that day.

DeRicci stood. She loved the view from those windows. She believed it was a view of consistent triumph. Nearly two years ago, an unknown bomber had tried to destroy the dome. The bomb had opened a hole in a section of the dome, and had ruined an entire neighborhood of Armstrong.

That had been one of the last cases DeRicci had worked as a detective. She had never caught the bomber-no one had. Most people, including her, believed that the bomber had died in the explosion. DeRicci used that view to remind herself that not everything had an answer. And even so, people, the city, the dome, the Moon itself, could recover from unanswerable-and catastrophic-events.

She needed to remember that she was in charge of security-not just for Armstrong, but for all of the United Domes of the Moon. She needed to protect the entire place against the unknown and the unimaginable.

And that did not include Ki Bowles. Bowles was known and, unfortunately, easy to imagine. She wasn't that easy to ignore, however.

DeRicci's desklink chirruped. She sighed. She had shut off most of her personal links because of the revival of the Bowles story, leaving only the emergency links and contact information for the people who worked with her directly.

The chirrup sounded again. It had to come from someone who wasn't on her approved list. She slammed her palm onto the desk, activating her side of the link. A face she didn't recognize appeared on the desk's edge.

”I'm sorry to disturb you, sir,” the young woman said.

”Apology accepted,” DeRicci said.

She was about to shut the connection down when the woman said, ”But there's a Detective Nyquist trying to reach you. He says it's important.”

DeRicci frowned. Bartholomew Nyquist was on her approved list. In fact, he was at the top of it. ”What the h.e.l.l is he going through channels for?” DeRicci asked.

”I don't know, sir, but-”

”The question was rhetorical,” DeRicci snapped. ”Put him through.”

The woman's image vanished, replaced by Nyquist's rumpled face. He looked tired and sad. DeRicci had gotten used to tired, but sad was something new.

DeRicci braced herself for some kind of bad news.

”Noelle,” he said, his voice soft. ”I'm at the Hunting Club.”

”The Hunting Club?” She smiled. He hated that place. She'd made the mistake of taking him there when he got out of the hospital, and that was when she learned how few pretensions he had. Nyquist didn't care if he was seen. In fact, he preferred not to be seen. He wanted to live his life, do his job, and spend time with the people he cared about.

Which, fortunately, included her.

”Yeah.” His tone made it clear that he wasn't happy about being at the club. ”I'm investigating two murders, only I have a problem.”

It took her a moment to realize this was a professional contact, not a personal one.

”Something I can help you with?” she asked.