Watching the ambassador do her work, and doing it with something approaching vengeful joy, Wilson realized his long-held wish that Abumwe would actually relax from time to time was clearly in error. This was a person who operated best and most efficiently when she was truly and genuinely pissed off; wishing for her to mellow out was like wishing an alpha predator would switch to grains. It was missing the point.

Wilson’s BrainPal pinged, internally and unseen by the others in the negotiating parties. It was Lowen. Can you talk? the message said.

No, but you can, Wilson sent. You’re coming through my BrainPal. No one else will be bothered.

Hold on, switching to voice, Lowen sent, and then her voice came through. “I think we have a big problem,” she said.

Define “problem,” Wilson sent.

“We’ve finished the autopsy,” Lowen sent. “Physically there was nothing wrong with Cong. Everything looked healthy and as close to perfect as a man his age could be. There are no ruptures or aneurysms, no organ damage or scarring. Nothing. There is no reason he should be dead.”

That indicates foul play to you? Wilson sent.

“Yes,” Lowen said. “And there’s another thing, which is the reason I’m talking to you. I took some of his blood for testing and I’m seeing a lot of anomalies in it. There’s a concentration of foreign particles in it that I haven’t seen before.”

Poison compounds? Wilson asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lowen said.

Have you shown them to Stone? Wilson asked.

“Not yet,” Lowen said. “I thought you actually might be more help for this. Can you receive images?”

Sure, Wilson sent.

“Okay, sending now,” Lowen said. A notice of a received image flashed in Wilson’s peripheral vision; he pulled it up.

It’s blood cells, Wilson sent.

“It’s not just blood cells,” Lowen said.

Wilson paid closer attention and saw specks amid the cells. He zoomed in. The specks gained in size and detail. Wilson frowned and called up a separate image and compared the two.

They look like SmartBlood nanobots, Wilson finally sent.

“That’s what I thought they might be,” Lowen said. “And that’s bad. Because they’re not supposed to be there. Just like Cong isn’t supposed to be dead. If you have someone who isn’t supposed to be dead and no physical reason that he should have died, and you also have a high concentration of foreign material in his blood, it’s not hard deduction that the one has to do with the other.”

So you think a Colonial did this, Wilson sent.

“I have no idea who did this,” Lowen said. “I just know what it looks like.”

Wilson had nothing to say to this.