This new Bliss had reverted to spying. Had connections to the Spit. But hadn’t made common cause with the rebels, according to Finch’s informants.

Although, when you paid informants in food and clothing, how valuable could your information be? More valuable? Less?

All of this made Bliss of special interest to any detective who hated foreigners messing around in Ambergris business. Finch could’ve used Bliss as a snitch, perhaps, but hadn’t. He was wary of who Bliss might be working for now. If he worked for anyone other than himself.

Second, the personal. Bliss had been at his father’s house a couple of times when Finch was maybe twelve, thirteen. He could recall looking through the kitchen window to see Bliss and his father in the garden. The smaller man compact, unmoving. His father unruly, animated, throwing his arms about, pointing at Bliss and demanding something. And yet, seeing the two figures there like that, Bliss had seemed in his silence and self-possession to be the one in charge.

Thought, too, that Bliss might’ve been in one of the photographs he’d burned before becoming Finch. But Bliss was one of many visitors. During the few peaceful years, there had been lots of parties at their house, with people from both sides.

Finch had seen Bliss give speeches, too. One, in front of the Voss Bender Memorial Opera House, to a crowd of almost ten thousand. He’d looked striking in an evening coat and tails. A chestful of honorary medals that made you notice the glitter more than the man. Urging cooperation and common cause in that silky voice when, just a year or two before, behind the scenes, he’d caused House Hoegbotton so much grief. Bombings. House-to-house battles to clear insurgents. Fighting in narrow streets where tanks were no help, but where F&L fungal bullets worked just fine.

Third, whatever the gray caps knew about Bliss, if they knew about Bliss. Finch couldn’t remember pulling the file on him. He’d have to put in a request. Which he hated doing. Couldn’t know what Heretic would “request” in return.

Took out the form anyway. Wrote in what he needed. Under “subject,” he filled in Ethan Bliss’s name and a few others. For cover. If Finch put in his report that he’d seen Bliss in the dead man’s memories, Bliss was as good as dead. Or would want to be. And Finch couldn’t be sure what it all meant until he questioned Bliss. Which wouldn’t happen if Heretic got hold of him first.

Why the hell was Ethan Bliss in the memories of the dead man? Typed:

Perhaps a fannarcesitti would be more useful in reading the man’s memories?