“I’ve put all this in the computer,” replied the man. “But I thought you’d want to go over it in person, just in case you had any questions.”

“What have you got on her?”

“Her name is either Virtue Patience MacKenzie or Virtue Patia MacKenzie,” said the man. “The records are a little unclear. It’s my own feeling that she changed her middle name from Patience to Patia when she came of age. She’s thirty-six years old. She was born on Belore, grew up on Sirius Five, got her degree at Aristotle—”

“That’s the university planet they created a few years ago?” interrupted Sokol.

“Right. Her grades were mediocre, but Aristotle’s a pretty classy place, and she was able to hire on with a news network right after that.”

“How long has she worked out of Deluros?” asked the politician.

“She’s never been to Deluros in her life. She worked on salary for about ten years, mostly in the Alphard sector, then went free-lance.”

“Personality profile?”

“She’s always been very bright, even precocious. She drinks more than she should, and has been known to gamble—badly, I might add. She appears to have a problem forming relationships; at any rate, she’s entered into six serious liaisons, none of which have lasted for as much as a year.”

“That hardly sounds serious to me,” commented Sokol.

“That’s as serious as she gets about anything except her career.”

“Then you’d better tell me a little about her career.”

“She resents authority; in fact, she’s been fired twice for insubordination. Her work has been pretty good, well above average, but she hasn’t come within hailing distance of the kind of breakthrough story that could make her reputation. She’s very success-oriented; she’s afraid time is running out on her, and she’s getting very impatient. About a year ago she managed to fast-talk a couple of backers into tossing almost two million credits into this Santiago project. I still don’t know how; it’s possible she slept with them, and more likely that she blackmailed them. She’s been working on the project for about eleven months, and she’s run through two-thirds of the money.” He paused. “I’ve got a feeling that this is a make-it-or-break-it situation for her. If she comes up empty, she’s through.”

“Why didn’t she just take the money and disappear?”

“She’d rather be rich and famous than just rich.”

“I know that feeling,” muttered Sokol wryly. He looked at the blond man. “Anything else?”

“Yes. She found Whittaker Drum about three weeks ago, and may even have killed him.”

“What kind of half-assed statement is that?” demanded Sokol. “Either she killed him or she didn’t.”