“My dear Lady Young,” Montaigne cooed, “I very much doubt that the Prime Minister would be at all happy to hear about Elaine Komandorski’s career before she went to work for the late, unlamented Dmitri Young. Such sordid stuff! And, you know, that little affair of yours with the badger game and the industrial intelligence you extorted from that unfortunate gentleman. You remember—the one who committed suicide?” She shook her head. “I’m positive the Prime Minister’s delicate sensibilities and exquisite sense of justice would be completely shocked by that one.”

“I see that your reputation is well deserved, Captain,” Georgia said, gazing steadily at Zilwicki. “On the other hand, I doubt very much that you have any proof of Ms. Montaigne’s… accusation. If, and please note that I did say if,” she added for the benefit of the inevitable recorders, “I had indeed had anything to do with an affair such as she’s just described, I feel confident that someone in my position would have spent the intervening time making certain there was no proof of the fact that I had.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Zilwicki rumbled. “Unfortunately, as accomplished as you are, you’re also merely mortal. I’m afraid you missed the odd witness along the way. I have three very interesting depositions, actually.”

“Depositions which, I feel sure,” Georgia said, still much more calmly than she felt, “must amount to no more than hearsay. Partly, of course, because I never had anything to do with the events Ms. Montaigne is describing. But also because if I had had anything to do with them, I would have been certain that I had no accomplices who might have been able to testify against me of their own first-hand knowledge.”

“I’m sure you would have,” Zilwicki conceded, and in someone else, Georgia might have thought she’d seen a twinkle in his eyes. Of course, the thought of “twinkle” and Anton Zilwicki were two concepts which were mutually contradictory, especially at a moment like this. There was too much Gryphon bedrock in the man. “Of course, as Duchess Harrington and Earl White Haven discovered not so very long ago,” he continued, “hearsay testimony can be quite devastating in the court of public opinion.”

No, definitely not a twinkle, Georgia thought. At best a gleam… and an ugly one, at that.

“But as the Duchess and the Earl also demonstrated,” she replied, “false hearsay evidence used in an effort to discredit someone has a tendency to rebound against the accuser. And given the many connections my husband’s family has, I feel sure we would be able to weather any such accusation. Why, you might be astonished by the people who would come forward to testify to the uprightness of my character!”

She smiled sweetly, but her confidence took another blow when neither Montaigne nor Zilwicki even flinched at her oblique reference to the power of the North Hollow Files.

“On the contrary, I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” Zilwicki told her. “No doubt it would be embarrassing for them when a DNA scan demonstrated that you were indeed Elaine Komandorski. You were quite efficient in obliterating Elaine’s public record, but you missed at least one copy of your dossier with the Landing City Police.” He smiled at the flinch she couldn’t quite conceal. “I’ll concede that there are no convictions in Elaine’s LCPD file, but it’s truly amazing how many times she was investigated. And the two times that charges were dropped because the key witness suddenly and mysteriously—and permanently—vanished would make fascinating reading. Under those circumstances, I suppose it would only be natural for your friends and allies to attempt to convince the public that such a sterling and upright individual as yourself could never have been guilty of all the terrible things the police thought you’d done. Unless, of course, the Prime Minister decided that, just as with certain individuals accused of trafficking in genetic slaves, it would be more politically expedient to throw you to the wolves.”