“No,” he lied. Admittedly it was only a partial lie, but he was pleased with himself for carrying it off through the deep unease that had just kicked his ass. No characteristics routine could ever grasp this particular suspect, because she changed her features after every job, which was easy now with the new Kcell cosmetics that had hit the market a few years back. Her height and build, however, remained constant to within five percent, as, bizarrely, did her hair color, which was always a sandy blond, no matter what style. Then there was the bloodbath in her wake. Not a visual characteristic, but the multiple murder was her signature sure as Ainsley Zangari had money. Cancer, Alik mouthed silently.

He left Salovitz to crank out the usual alerts and requests for cooperation to various global agencies, providing them with the new picture, and called Tansan.

“It’s Cancer.”

“Shit,” Tansan snapped. “Are you sure?”

“The massacre at the portalhome is typical of her operation. That bitch would’ve made certain no one survived to tell us what actually happened, especially Koushick Flaviu, who was running the data break. I’m thinking the two teams didn’t kill each other quite as smoothly as it was laid out. Not that the theory matters, since I’ve just seen surveillance of a woman who fits her profile. But she vanished in Manila hours ago.”

“This is serious. Those files need to stay secure.”

“I’m sure the people she’s murdered will agree with you.”

“I’m sorry about them, I really am. But the people I represent have other issues.”

“And money.”

“Money isn’t actually part of it, this time. This is political.”

“Yeah. I accessed Nikolai Kristjánsson’s preliminary report. Those files she was trying to bust dealt with New York’s shields.”

“Which is why this is attracting so much attention here on the Hill.”

“Nikolai said he didn’t think they actually cracked the files.”

“Not this time, but the fact someone was trying to bust them out is worrying. There’s only one reason you want those files, and that’s if you’re planning to obliterate New York.”

“I don’t get it. There are enough freak-jobs in the solar system who can probably build their own nukes if they want to. But then you’d just bring the components in through hubs one chunk at a time and rebuild it on the ground. Shields are practically an anachronism.”

“Not entirely,” Tansan said. “Pulau Manipa.”

Alik winced. Pulau Manipa used to be an Indonesian island. Then, in 2073, a reasonably sized chunk of space rock hit the atmosphere above it. Earth’s atmosphere had provided a good level of natural protection against cosmic impacts since the end of the dinosaurs, with just a few little blips in its safety record, such as Tunguska in Siberia and Meteor Crater in Arizona. It even broke up the 2073 rock, which basically put Pulau Manipa directly under a cosmic shotgun blast rather than a single-shot impact. Astrophysicists and weapons techs were still arguing which kind of strike was worse: air burst or solid smackdown. Nobody on Pulau Manipa could be asked for their opinion. Between the multiple physical strikes, the overlapping blast waves, and the firestorms, none of them were left alive.