Moonripple shrugged. “I don’t even remember. At church, probably. It couldn’t have been in the tavern, because she doesn’t drink.”

“And you’re good friends with her?”

“Not best friends,” she said, accentuating the word. “I’ve never had a best friend.”

“How well do you know her?”

“Sometimes she stops by in the morning and we have tea together, and once in a while I visit her on my day off,” answered Moonripple.

“What makes you think she’ll take me to Santiago?” persisted Cain.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Santiago knows that, sir.”

“Santiago knows about me?” asked Cain, startled.

“Santiago knows everything,” she said.

He stared at her but made no comment, and they spent the next few minutes walking in silence.

“There it is, sir,” she said, pointing to a small structure set in about fifty feet from the road.

“It looks empty,” said Cain.

“Oh, she’s home, sir,” said Moonripple decisively.

“What makes you so sure?” he asked.

“Where else would she be?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” answered Cain, turning off the road and following a narrow path up to the front door.

He waited for the security system to scan the two of them, and just as he was sure that he had been right about the home being deserted, the door slid back into the wall and he found himself facing a small, slender woman dressed in a very old military daysuit.

She was perhaps thirty years old, and her features were sharp and stark. She had a scar that began on her forehead and ran through her right eyebrow and down her cheek, which even cosmetic surgery had been unable to hide. She wore no makeup, which made her thin lips seem even thinner.

“Hello, Annie,” said Moonripple. “This is Sebastian Cain. He’d like to meet you.”

Silent Annie motioned for them to enter the house, and Cain followed the two women through a small foyer into a living room that was larger than it appeared from the outside. The walls were covered by shelving units, which in turn were covered by disorganized stacks of books and tapes. A dust-covered computer sat on a battered desk in one corner, and Cain could see from the text on the screen that she had been reading when they had interrupted her.

The furniture matched the decor of the room: old, not very comfortable, and arranged without any concern for design or order. Silent Annie pointed first at Cain and then at the largest of the chairs, and he sat down, while Moonripple sat cross-legged on the floor next to him.

Silent Annie made a pouring gesture.

“Yes, I’d love some tea,” said Moonripple. “What about you, sir?”

“Tea will be fine,” said Cain.