‘We have a pond in the compound’s grounds,’ the station chief said. ‘Stocked with golden carp, a gift from a wealthy native who wanted us to look favourably on one of his enterprises. He’s considered to be useful by the higher powers, so we’re stuck with the damned things. They are fed once a day, and as soon as your shadow falls over the water, they crowd in. Mouths opening and closing in anticipation. That’s our community here in the capital. Ready to snap up any morsel that might help personal advancement, or promotion of a favourite cause, or simply out of curiosity.’

‘If you snapped up my contact because you thought it might win Mother’s favour, you’ve made a bad mistake,’ Ysbel said. ‘The best thing you can do is release him right away.’

‘If we do, the embassy will probably find him before you do, and then you would have to explain yourself to them. What I can do is have someone meet you when you arrive, and take you directly to the compound,’ the station chief said, and cut the connection.

Ysbel couldn’t believe it, asked Zaquil if he understood what had happened.

‘I understand you were warned that tapcode messages could be intercepted,’ the helper said.

‘How would sending a message via the same people who’ve kidnapped Goodwill have been any better?’ Ysbel said.

She was wondering if one of her colleagues had alerted the Concord station. Mitkos was cautious and conscientious and knew more about the map and her mission than anyone else, she wouldn’t put it past Landers to try to undercut her to gain some small advantage, either, and although she didn’t want to believe that Dalsy was an informant, the woman was a cheerful gossip and might have let something slip.

‘I need to talk to Goodwill,’ she told Zaquil. ‘Can you arrange that?’

‘I have full access to the compound’s security system.’

‘Put me through to him. Can you also arrange transport?’

‘Several runabouts are available.’

‘Make one ready, and hook me up with Goodwill.’

After a brief delay, a window opened in her link and she was looking out at a bland, softly lit meeting space. The bailiff, Goodwill Saltmire, was sitting in a human-sized chair on the far side of a display table, legs tucked neatly underneath him, green-tinged shadows shifting across his face as he looked up at the window.

‘It’s safe to talk,’ Zaquil said. ‘I had his guard called away, and also spoofed the surveillance feeds.’

Goodwill jumped down from the chair, placed both hands over his heart, bowed slightly and told Ysbel that it was a pleasure to meet her again.

‘One of your colleagues showed me how this works,’ he said, reaching up to touch the top of the table. ‘I have been looking at maps.’