"If the identifications Captain Quinn and the Dendarii gave us are correct, it is. The agent, who is one of our brighter boys, simply quietly purchased it. It's being shipped back by fast courier to ImpSec headquarters on Komarr for a thorough forensic analysis right now. Not that, apparently, there is much to analyze."

"But it's a lead, a break at last! The supply company must have records—ImpSec should be able to trace it back to—to—" To what?

"Yes, and no. The record trail breaks one step back from the supply company. The independent carrier they bought it from appears to be guilty of receiving stolen property."

"From Jackson's Whole? Surely that narrows down the search area!"

"Mm. One must remember that the Hegen Hub is a hub. The possibility that the cryochamber was routed into the Cetagandan Empire from Jackson's Whole, and back out again via the Hegen Hub, is . . . remote but real."

"No. The timing."

"The timing would be tight, but possible. Illyan has calculated it. The timing limits the search area to a mere . . . nine planets, seventeen stations, and all the ships en route between them." The Count grimaced. "I almost wish I was sure we were dealing with a Cetagandan plot. The Ghem-lords at least I could trust to know or guess the value of the package. The nightmare that makes me despair is that the cryochamber somehow fell into the hands of some Jacksonian petty thief, who simply dumped the contents in order to resell the equipment. We would have paid a ransom . . . a dozen times the value of the cryochamber for the dead body alone. For Miles preserved and potentially revivable—whatever they asked. It drives me mad to think that Miles is rotting somewhere by mistake."

Mark pressed his hands to his forehead, which was throbbing. His neck was so tight it felt like a piece of solid wood. "No . . . it's crazy, it's too crazy. We have both ends of the rope now, we're only missing the middle. It has to be connectable. Norwood—Norwood was loyal to Admiral Naismith. And smart. I met him, briefly. Of course, he hadn't planned to be killed, but he wouldn't have sent the cryochamber into danger, or off at random." Was he so sure? Norwood had expected to be able to pick up the cryochamber from its destination within a day at most. If it had arrived . . .  wherever . . . with some sort of cryptic hold-till-called-for note attached, and then no one had called for it . . . "Was it reconditioned before or after the Hub supply company purchased it?"

"Before."

"Then there has to be some sort of medical facility hidden in the gap somewhere. Maybe a cryofacility. Maybe . . . maybe Miles was shifted into somebody's permanent storage banks." Unidentified, and destitute? On Escobar such a charity might be possible, but on Jackson's Whole? A most forlorn hope.