“That’s terrible. That’s not a classic dilemma. A parent choosing a favorite kid is a classic, not choosing to shoot one of them.”

There was a touch of ice in the long, slow look Vengerov sent him; he seemed to be turning the “shooting children” remark over in his mind, like he’d fit the wrong widget into a socket, and he was trying to figure out the most efficient way to correct this aberration. Then he appeared to brush off the thought, and said, “Regardless of whether we sponsor, I have pull with those who do. A few words from me, and the other companies will think better of you.”

“They hate me.”

“They’re executives, Mr. Raines. They pride themselves on thinking in terms of self-interest and monetary incentive. Emotions, values, and attachments that cloud judgment aren’t prized among their set.”

“Or a conscience, huh?”

“I’ll take dispassionate self-interest over a conscience any day. It’s far more predictable. Just as these executives are. If I inform them they are to sponsor you, then I assure you, they will do so—to please me.” He tapped his fingers one by one, still considering Tom. “You do realize, I’m not asking you to inflict any permanent damage upon her.”

“You’re not?” Tom said, caught off guard.

Vengerov shook his head. “Of course not.” He withdrew a tablet computer from his pocket. “You may feel free to examine the program yourself.”

And with a few taps on his keyboard, he knocked down the firewall Wyatt had written for Tom. Tom jumped, but a zipped file had already appeared in his processor.

“Hey,” Tom objected, but text blinked before his eyes: Please set phrase to trigger deployment. Irritated, Tom thought about how he wouldn’t do this to her. The prompt vanished.

Vengerov had already restored Tom’s firewall, and he spoke as though Tom hadn’t even objected. “Once you deploy that on her, she’ll be incapacitated and experience some difficulty hooking into the vessels in the solar system. She won’t die, and she won’t be permanently damaged. I consider this more a—” he waved a finger in the air, as though trying to conjure the proper word, and a queer smile appeared on his lips when he seemed to find it “—an exploration of the effect her absence will have upon the conflict, nothing more. The real question here is, will you fulfill this reasonable request, or will I have to resort to unpleasant means of persuasion?”

Full of mistrust, Tom crossed his arms tightly. “I won’t do anything because you’re threatening me.”

The words merely amused Vengerov. “Let’s be clear, Mr. Raines: I’m attempting to bribe you. The threat’s an unpleasant necessity if you refuse to accept my generosity.”

Tom hadn’t realized they were at the airport until Vengerov nodded.

“Your stop.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything,” Tom insisted.