Kit raised her eyebrows. “And why exactly is it you need to know?” she asked in the haughtiest Granmama tone she could manage.

“And why exactly would you be reluctant to tell?”

“It seems to me,” Kit said, still in that supercilious tone, “that no friend I would visit in the city could have any relation to explosions in the Centrifuge—which, as I understand it, is what you’re here investigating?”

“Unless that friend was Jex Zanlan,” Hoyla Davit said.

So they knew. Of course they knew. The guard at the gate had recognized her name, her face; and hadn’t there been cameras trained on them the whole time she was in Jex’s prison? In his prison, making love to him under the thin shield of blankets and furniture. Worse and worse and worse.

“Jex was one of the people I visited that day,” she said calmly. “Why?”

“Jex Zanlan is a known terrorist who has been responsible for several acts of violence recently committed in this city,” said Hoyla Davit. “If we discover that the explosives were deliberately set, Jex Zanlan is the first person we will look to.”

“He’s in jail,” Kit said. “How could he set off any bombs?”

“That’s a stupid question, hela,” Hoyla Davit said softly.

“Not as stupid as some of the questions you’ve been asking me.”

“Then answer this one. Did Jex Zanlan tell you of any plans he’d made to sabotage the Centrifuge that day?”

Kit leaned forward and, dropping the hauteur, infused her voice with cold passion. “If Jex Zanlan or anyone had told me of plans to blow up the Centrifuge, I would have been in Ariana Bayless’s office faster than you could call my name. And, believe me, Officer, if anyone had warned me that the Centrifuge was about to be bombed to pieces, I would have walked home sooner than board a ringcar and try to beat the explosion to my gate.”

Hoyla was unimpressed. “You might have been misinformed. He might have told you the explosions were planned for later in the week. You might have felt safe.”

“That doesn’t seem very likely, either,” Kit said boldly. “I’m sure you’ve heard gossip about my—relationship—with Jex Zanlan.”

“You’re his lover,” Hoyla Davit said flatly.

“That being the case,” Kit said, “why in the world do you think he would have allowed me to enter the Centrifuge that night if he knew a bomb had been planted?”

“He might have thought you planned to take a limo home.”

“He knows I never do.”

“He might not have noticed the time.”

“A man planning murder surely is paying attention to the clock,” Kit said.

Berkin Star stirred and for the first time spoke. “He might have wanted you dead in the tunnels,” he said in a nasal, swamp-country accent. “Might have wanted to be shed of you altogether.”