«I fixed up the hinges and put in a new bed last week,» Rousseau said, his smile showing three missing teeth. «Tiarella, she told me fix the roof as well. With my back! That woman expects miracles. Still, now you're here, I'll help you.»

Eason paused on the threshold, a gelid tingling running down his spine. «What do you mean, last week?»

«Last Thursday, it was, she told me. Ross, she said, get a chalet fixed up ready for a man to live in. It was a mess, you know. I've done a lot of work here for you already.»

«Ready for me to live in?»

«Yes.» Rousseau shifted unhappily from foot to foot as Eason stared at him.

«Did she mention me by name?»

«No. How could she? Listen, I made sure the toilet works. You don't have to run back to the house every time.»

Eason reached out and grasped the front of Rousseau's vest. «What did she say, exactly?»

Rousseau gave him a sickly grin, trying to prise his hand loose. Sweat broke out on his forehead when he found just how implacable that grip was.

«She said there would be a man coming. She said it was the time and we should get ready. That's all, I swear.»

Eason let go of his vest. «The time? What did she mean?»

«I don't know.» Rousseau stroked the front of his vest down. «Tiarella, she's not . . . you know. Since Vanstone's death I have to make allowances. Half of what she says is mad. I wouldn't worry about it.»

• • •

After Eason finished sweeping the chalet's floor and washing fungal colonies from the walls he sat on the cot-style bed and opened his case. The three confinement spheres were still functioning perfectly. Of course, there were only two modes, working and not working. If one of them ever did suffer a glitch, he'd never know about it. That still didn't stop him from checking. Their presence was heightening his sense of paranoia.

Tiarella worried him. How the hell could she know he would be coming out to Charmaine? Unless this was all some incredibly intricate trap. Which really was crazy. More than anyone he knew how the Party members operated. Sophistication was not part of the doctrine.

It was no good terrorizing Rousseau, that drunken fart didn't know anything.

«I brought you some cups and things,» Althaea said. She was standing in the doorway, wearing a sleeveless mauve dress that had endured a lot of washes. A big box full of crockery was clutched to her chest. Her face crumpled into misery when he looked up, the heat of surprise in his eyes.

He closed the case calmly and loaded an access code into its lock. «It's all right, come in. I'm just putting my things away.»

«I'm sorry, I didn't think. I always walk straight in to Mother's room.»

«No trouble.» He put the case into his flight bag and slipped the seal, then pushed the whole bundle under the bed.