"No, I believe your intuition works; and like you say, having Katerina on his yacht explains how he knew about the NN core." She consulted the Event Horizon terminal. The first-aid kit's diagnostic was plugged into it, the cube showing a white-shadow schematic of Greg's body. His pain points glowed a mild amber; she'd treated all of them. He was relaxed now, growing drowsy from the general tranquilliser she'd given him earlier. She held open his right eyelid, shining the pencil light directly on the pupil, then away, watching the dilation. The terminal said it was within acceptable limits. "Have you been overdoing the gland?"

"Used it a bit, nothing much."

She thought he sounded defensive. Not that she could even begin to give a qualified opinion on neurohormone abuse. Just a feeling, though; he appeared enervated, more than the cuts and sprains could account for. Why did men always try and disguise their weaknesses? "I think you might be slightly concussed. A hospital check-up wouldn't hurt."

"No need to bother them. I'll spend tomorrow resting."

"Promise?"

"All that's scheduled is a trip to Wilholm Manor to check out Gabriel's prediction of a second attack against the NN core."

She peeled the diagnostic pick-up from the nape of his neck where it was interfacing with his cortical node and coiled up the fibre-optic lead. The compact unit slotted neatly into the moulded foam of the first-aid kit; a well-worn aluminium case, Army-green with a big red cross painted on. Surplus to requirements, Greg had told her. There was a comprehensive range of dressings and medicine inside, all top quality. She'd thought he was a hypochondriac when she first saw it.

"That's all right then," she said, "providing your new billionaire girlfriend doesn't excite you too much."

"Please! Give me a break."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Dr. Ranasfari called this morning, charming man, left a message for you." She licked her lips at the memory. "He made a pass at me."

"Shit."

"Greg!"

"Sorry. You're kidding. Ranasfari? He made a pass at you? Never."

"He did. Men have been known to."

"Impossible, my dear. Ranasfari doesn't like people, any people. We're not rationally precise data packages."

"Don't be so bitchy, or are you just jealous?"

"Neither, simply observant. So what did the good doctor want to tell me?"