‘Rural bliss,’ Bethane said. She was a briskly efficient woman a little younger than Ysbel. They had met at one of the cultural events organised by Dalsy Diwasdaughter, and shared a love of long-distance running. ‘It might not be as exciting as your news, but I can’t wait.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ Ysbel said.

‘I’m sure you’ll be too busy for that,’ Bethane said, with no trace of unkindness. ‘And I’m not going to miss the mainland. We’ve made a mess of it here, turned the natives against us by pushing them too hard and too fast, and there’s going to be a reckoning soon. Hopefully just a reset, but there are signs that it might be something more drastic.’

‘I hope we can find a way of fixing things,’ Ysbel said, and over bowls of lobster stew pumped her friend for information about empty or abandoned facilities on the west coast, and discovered that Special Operations had got ahead of her – Bethane had already made a list of those properties for one of its agents. There were a good number of them, she told Ysbel. Because of the unfavourable political atmosphere, general unrest and acts of outright sabotage, projects and operations on the west coast were being suspended or scaled back, resulting in an overcapacity of depots, warehouses and offices. Some had been mothballed and others had been stripped out, ready to be handed back to the native owners when rental agreements expired. The Special Operations agent had been especially interested in one such place, a godown in Pleasant Bay. Bethane didn’t know what had caught his attention, but she’d heard that a team had been sent to check it out.

This had happened just a few days ago, at about the time Ysbel had started her futile trawl through records. She wondered if Mitkos knew about it, and if he did why he hadn’t told her, and she asked Bethane if the agent from Special Operations had mentioned Damage Limitation, or if Damage Limitation had been renting the godown.

‘This is the funny agency that arrested you?’

‘Not exactly arrested. Briefly detained.’

‘Well, it wasn’t them. Or any other agency for that matter. It was a native business,’ Bethane said. ‘Not tribal; one of their collectives. You know how they are with names, all florid promises and bad poetry? This one is a marvellous example, one of the best: “A Group of Young People Who Believe They Will Turn Dreams of the Past into Wonders of the Present”.’

‘What kind of business was it?’

‘I have no idea, but whatever they were into, they were long gone by the time Special Operations came calling.’