Funny. Not allowing her own creation to see what she was up to.

You think that's significant?

Insufficient data, which you're going to rectify for me. Today, remember?

If Boston includes police unionization and improved working conditions on its manifesto, they'll get my vote.

• • •

After that interview with Caldarola, which I can only describe as badly bungled, I drove back to the police station with the first chill of depression souring my thoughts. Or maybe it was plain honest guilt. I should have gone easier on Davis Caldarola; I knew full well he wasn't in any state to answer difficult personal questions. Then again, Shannon was quite right saying what she had: if he was guilty, that's exactly how he would behave.

Eden.

Yes, Chief Parfitt?

Did Maowkavitz and Caldarola argue very often?

They disagreed over many things. But their discussions were mainly conducted on a rational level. I would judge that they debated rather than argued. Although I do recall several rather intense rows over the years; but none of these occurred during the last eight months. His attitude towards her was one of complete devotion.

Thanks.

I didn't really suspect him. But, Christ, you've got to go by the book. Without that, without the law, nothing would function, society would cease to exist. Police work is more than tracking down lone lunatics. But I didn't expect Davis Caldarola would be too interested in a sociology lecture right then.

I was right. I did feel guilty.

• • •

I still hadn't unpacked the small box of personal items I'd brought with me to the office. There wasn't much in it, holograms of Jocelyn and the twins, paper books, some carved quartz we'd picked up on a holiday—God knows where, the memory was long gone. I sat at the desk and stared at it. I simply couldn't be bothered to make the effort to unpack. Besides, if Boston did make a bid for independence after the cloudscoop was lowered, I might be packing it up again real soon. If I didn't stop them. If the police wouldn't follow orders to stop them. If I didn't join them.

Christ.

I put my head in my hands and allowed myself a long minute of self-indulgent pity. It was no practical help, but wallowing in misery can feel great on occasion. Almost refreshing.

Eden.

Yes, Chief Parfitt?

Give me the identity signature for Lynette Mendelson, please.

The memory wasn't quite a visual image, more like an emotional sketch. I carefully ran through the procedure for singular engagement—it would never do for this conversation to be public property—and called her, projecting that unique mental trait which encapsulated her essence.

The response was more or less what I expected when I identified myself.

Oh, shit, I might have known you'd dump yourself into my life sooner or later, lynette mendelson groused. What did that bastard Zimmels tell you about me?

Only that he caught you trying to sell copies of the genomes for some new transgenic vegetables grown up here.i tactfully didn't mention what else was in her file. lynette mendelson worked for the jskp in eden's agronomy division as a soil chemistry specialist. it put her in a position where she had access to each batch of pacific nugene's new crop designs as they came out of the laboratory for field testing. it was a position which subjected her to a great deal of temptation. especially as she had a record for fencing prototype dna splices back on earth. technically, she should never have been allowed up here; jskp didn't employ anyone with a less than spotless record. but zimmels had vetoed the personnel department's rejection. a deceptively wily man, zimmels. because, sure enough, after twenty fascinating months spent analysing lumps of soil mendelson reverted, true to form. as an entrapment exercise, it was damn near perfect.