“Good.” Miriam smiled. “In that case, you may be able to help me earn more than the extra million dollars I borrowed from Angbard last month.” She pretended to ignore Paulette’s sharp intake of breath. “The locket doesn’t work in this world,” she explained, “but if you use it on the other side, it takes you to yet another place—more like this one than your home, but just as different in its own way.”

She took a mouthful of coffee. “I’m setting up a business in, uh, world three,” she told Olga. “It’s going to set the Clan on its collective ear when they find out. It’s also going to flush out our mystery assassins, who live in world three. Right out of wherever they’re hiding. The problem is, it takes a whole day for me to world-walk across in each direction. Running a business there is taking all my time.”

“You want me to be a courier?” asked Olga.

“Yes.” Miriam watched her. “In a week or two I’ll own a house in world three that is in exactly the same place as this office. And we’ve already got the beginnings of a camp in world one, in the woods north of Niejwein, on the same spot. Once I’ve got the house established, it’ll be possible to go from here to there without having to wander through a strange city or know much about local custom—”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m not fit to be allowed out over there?” Olga’s eyes blazed.

“Er, no! No!” Miriam was taken aback until she noticed Brill stifling laughter. “Er. That is, only if you want to. Have you seen enough of Cambridge yet? Don’t you want to look around here, first, before going to yet another world?”

“Do I want—” Olga looked as if she was going to explode: “yes!” she insisted. “I want it all! Where do I sign? Do you want it in blood?”

Early evening, a discreet restaurant on the waterfront, glass windows overlooking the open water, darkness and distant lights. It was six-thirty precisely. Miriam nervously adjusted her bra strap and shivered, then marched up to the front desk.

“Can I help you?” asked the concierge.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I’m Miriam Beckstein. Party of two. I believe the person I’m expecting will already be here. Name of Lofstrom.”

“Ah, just a moment—yes, please go in. He’s at a window table, if you’d just come this way—”

Miriam went inside the half-deserted restaurant, still filling up with an upmarket after-work crowd, and headed for the back. After weeks in New Britain she felt oddly exposed in a black minidress and tux jacket, but nobody here gave her a second glance. “Roland?”