Sarah turned to her, looked into her amazing eyes, with their child’s fresh intensity. You would think she was just a girl, to look at those eyes. There was not the slightest trace that this was an ancient being. If you were observant, you would see that the lipstick was painted on a strangely narrow mouth, and you might suspect that some inner thing had been done to fill out the cheeks. But that would take a very acute observer. To most people, Miriam appeared to be a ravishing, wonderfully dressed, wonderfully affluent young woman, still dewy from girlhood.

Miriam sighed, her breath’s heavy sourness filling Sarah’s nostrils. “Bring me vodka,” she said.

Sarah got up from her seat, moved down the aisle toward the steward, who was serving meals in the second cabin. “Oui, mademoiselle?”

“Madame in Seven-A wishes vodka, very cold, served without ice.”

“Oui, mademoiselle, a moment.”

“Immediately, please.”

The steward understood her tone and poured the drink, a large one. Sarah took it to Miriam, who emptied it in an instant.

It was clear that Miriam had been through absolute hell over these past days. Sarah had suspected that her odyssey to the conclaves would be a disappointment, but whatever had happened was far worse than that.

“Another?”

“Perhaps in a few minutes.”

“I know how you hate this thing.”

“I just wonder if the repairs are satisfactory.”

“We have to hope.”

“Another vodka. Bring the bottle.”

Sarah went back to the steward. “She wants the bottle.”

“A service of caviar, perhaps?”

“No, only the vodka.”

“Mademoiselle, is madame afraid? Would she like the pilot to come and speak to her?”

“That I cannot ask her.”

“I understand,” the steward said. He had concluded that Sarah was a personal servant, and that madame would be taking all her service from her, and gave her the vodka on a small tray. “Will you want me to call you for her meal?”

“Madame will not be taking a meal.”

“Very well.” He returned to his passengers. The service in the three cabins of the Concorde was exactly the same, but by tradition the third cabin was for tourists, the second for business people, and the first for personages. Air France might not know just how distinguished this particular passenger was, but Sarah had made sure, as always, that Miriam was treated with the greatest respect.

The fact that Sarah was not privately reconciled to Miriam’s way of life and even doubted her right to her prey did not mean that she did not respect her. Miriam was a creature of God, also, and a triumph of nature. To a scientist, which Sarah most certainly was, her blood was one of nature’s truly remarkable organs. It had six different cell types, including one that Sarah had watched under the electron microscope trapping and destroying virus particles, transforming them back into the chemicals out of which they were constructed.