Nicole gave a sideward glance at the monitoring screen, stared for a long moment at the blinking white light and the small sentence across the bottom of the screen, TRACKING ERIC KARL LLOYD, 445512, then leaned back and closed her eyes. The aspirin she had taken immediately after Travis and the Major had left had not yet taken hold, and she massaged her temples with her fingertips, ignoring the questioning look Shirley Ferguson shot in her direction.

She felt angry—angry at herself for letting her emotions override her good sense, angry at Clifford Cameron for not stopping Eric’s foolhardy recklessness, and most of all, angry at Eric. She had tried to warn him. Travis had tried to warn him. Clayne had put it to him straight again and again. But by tomorrow at this time, he would have a Stage Three implantation in the back of his neck. And it would be his own stupid fault.

A soft knock came at the door behind her, and Nicole and Shirley both turned as Clayne Robertson entered, gave them a quick wave, and moved over to stand behind Nicole and stare at the monitoring screen. “They’re still at Cameron’s place?” he asked.

“Yes. The doctor is cooking them some dinner. Eric’s in the living room.” She made a face at the noise coming from the speaker. “That’s the television you hear.”

Clayne shook his head as he leaned forward and peered at the placement of the blinking light on the simple floor plan of Clifford Cameron’s apartment. “He’s not in the living room,” he corrected. “That’s the kitchen.”

Nicole turned to look at him. “Are you sure? I got the impression Dr. Cameron left him on the couch.”

Clayne shook his head, and his finger touched the screen. “I’ve been in there two or three times. That’s the kitchen. This is the living room here. He’s probably gone in to be with Cliff.”

“No,” Shirley said. “He hasn’t moved out of that room since Cliff—Dr. Cameron—told him to sit down.”

Clayne shrugged, not really caring one way or the other. “Sorry, but he’s in the kitchen. Any word from the Major yet?”

Nicole shook her head. “He’s going to have them picked up tonight, and then he’ll put them both on Stage Three.” Before Clayne could respond, she returned to the other question. “Are you sure that’s the kitchen?” She didn’t like the fact that she had so clearly pictured him in the living room, only to find him in the kitchen.

“Yes, I am. Can you bring both Eric and Cliff on the screen at the same time? Bet you a malt they’re in the same room.”