By midmorning of the day after Madame Sato's successful revival, when Dr. Leiber still hadn't contacted the consulate, m'lord allowed as how he might have been mistaken, and dispatched Roic and Johannes to find the man.  Roic thought it might have made his job easier if m'lord had come to that conclusion earlier.  He began with the two obvious first ploys, calling the man's residence—no answer—and his work, where he learned that the researcher had called in sick the morning before, some stomach bug, he'd told his assistant, and he'd likely be out for a couple of days.  Right.

Roic then had Johannes pack up some of the consulate's better surveillance equipment and drive him back out to Leiber's townhouse.

A complex under construction that had caught his eye the previous trip did so again, as they passed.  Roic cranked his head around to study the sign.   Century Estates, it read, and Were you born between 150 and 130 years ago?  See us!  "What's that all about?" he asked Johannes.

"A generational cohort enclave," said Johannes.  "You see them here and there in the bigger cities.  Revives, at least those who wake up with enough money and health for it, often find they don't like the new Kibou so much after all, and end up clustering together trying to recreate their youths."

"Huh," said Roic.  "A sort of do-it-yourself historical reenactment?  At least you'd have someone to talk to who gets all your jokes."

"I guess," said Johannes, a little doubtfully.

Roic had Johannes pull in the van at the back of the house row while he tried Dr. Leiber's front door.  No answer.  After a few minutes Johannes opened it from within.  "He left the garage unlocked.  Float bike's gone."

"Right.  Let's take a look around, then visit his comconsole."

No room, closet, shower, cupboard, or dustbin large enough to hold a body did so.  M'lord's thoughtful burglar's note was gone from the refrigerator, which was still stocked with an assortment of bachelor rations.  The kitchen was tidied, the bed upstairs more-or-less made, or at least the quilt pulled up.  Clothes and shoes might have been taken—enough to fit in a duffle strapped to the back of a float bike?—but there was still a good bit left.  Toiletries were absent.

Johannes had started on Leiber's comconsole, sucking a copy of its contents through the umbilicus of the secured cable onto his ImpSec recorder, watching the progress on his holoscreen.

"Hey!" he said after a moment.  "This thing is monitored.  I wonder if Leiber knew that?"

Roic leaned in.  Hey, indeed!  "This process won't stir up his watchers, will it?"

"It shouldn't," said Johannes.

Not very reassuring.  "Can you trace the bug?"

"Partly.  I might be able to finish the job from the tight-room."

"Give us a look at his communications over the past two days, since our first visit."