One of the small screens changed to a scene on the Mirriam's broad afterdeck. Greg squinted down at it. Kendric was sitting on one of the plastic recliners, dressed in an open-neck shirt and tailored shorts, drinking from a tall cut-crystal glass. The man with him was in a suit, his collar undone, tie hanging loose. He looked to be in his late forties, a flat bulldog face with red skin.

"Here," said Suzi. She handed Greg an earpiece.

"… missing out badly," the man in the suit was saying, in a faint Scottish brogue. "Our Party is damn near down, Kendric, it cannot last long. Terrible thing, food's short, there's no gear, no methane for the farms. People are going to the spivs like never before. There's a hell of a turnover in silver right now. If you could just have a wee word with young Julia Evans, come to an arrangement wi' her till the Party goes down. I can ship it out by the tonne."

"Impossible," Kendric said flatly. His face was dangerously hard. "That frigid bitch and I have severed all our business contacts. There will be no resumption."

"Tis a lot o' money, Kendric."

"Ride it out. I'm closing some deals that will make the black currency market utterly trivial. And I certainly shall not forget your forbearance."

The man in the suit shook his head sadly, and took a drink from his glass.

The image froze. "Didn't mean much at the time," said Suzi. She pecked at the keyboard again.

This time it was evening. A gauzy layer of cumulus cloud glowed copper above the Mirriam. There was a crowd of about fifteen people drinking on the afterdeck, the women in low-cut cocktail dresses; men in suits or blazers. Laughter, clamorous conversation, and the chink of glasses filled the earpiece.

Kendric was standing at the stern with two other men. One tall and slim with thinning blond hair, the second a handsome African in brightly coloured northern tribal robes.

"You have got to provide the house with alternative investments, Kendric," said the blond-haired man. "And fast."

"I've acquired some options in a Pacific Rim portfolio," the African said earnestly. "They'll give you a sixteen to seventeen per cent return, guaranteed minimum."

"No," Kendric said.

"You won't find anything better. Not short-term."

"I'm sorry. I know how hard you worked to put them together. But no."

"You should've hung on, Kendric," said the blond man, "We could've squared it with the family over Siebruk."

Kendric's handsome features darkened. "That deranged little shit, Evans. Buying a fucking bank! I've never heard of anything so… so—" He clutched at the polished brass tiff-rail. "God damn that bitch!"

The blond man turned to look out over the marina.

"Look," said the African. "The family is going to insist on an equivalent viability from the money released by pulling out of the Event Horizon backing consortium."

Kendric didn't respond.

"The family—" began the blond man.