Samual stood up and put out his hand. “We need this. Very badly.”

“I know,” Kolhammer said. “We won’t let you down.”

Nobody in Koblat’s spaceport noticed the steady procession of kids slipping quietly down the airlock tube in bay WJR-99 where the Leonora Cephei was docked. Not the port officials, not the other crews (who would have taken a dim view of Captain Knox’s charter), and certainly not the company cops. For the first time in Jed’s life, the company’s policy meant that things were swinging his way.

The spaceport’s internal security surveillance systems were turned off, the CAB docking bay logs had been disabled, customs staff were on extended leave. No inconvenient memory file would ever exist of the starships that had come and gone since the start of the quarantine; nor would there be a tax record of the bonuses everyone was earning.

Even so, Jed was taking no chances. His small chosen tribe convened in the day club where he and Beth checked them over, making them take off their red handkerchiefs before dispatching them up to the spaceport at irregular intervals.

There were eighteen Deadnights he and Beth reckoned they could trust to keep quiet; and that was stretching the Leonora Cephei ’s life-support capacity to its legal capacity. Counting himself and Beth, there were four left when Gari finally arrived. That part was pre-arranged; if both of them had been gone from the apartment for the whole day, their mother might have wondered what they were up to. What had definitely not been arranged was Gari having Navar in tow.

“I’m coming, too,” Navar said defiantly as she saw Jed’s face darken. “You can’t stop me.”

Her voice was that same priggish bark he had come to loathe over the last months, not just the tone but the way it always got what it wanted. “Gari!” he protested. “What are you doing, doll?”

His sister’s lips squeezed up as a prelude to crying. “She saw me packing. She said she’d tell Digger.”

“I will, I swear,” Navar said. “I’m not staying here, not when I can go and live in Valisk. I’m going, all right.”

“Okay.” Jed put his arm around Gari’s quivering shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

“No she bloody didn’t,” Beth exclaimed. “There’s no room on board for anyone else.”

Gari started crying. Navar folded her arms, putting on her most stubborn expression.

“Thanks,” Jed said over his sister’s head.

“Don’t leave me here with Digger,” Gari wailed. “Please, Jed, don’t.”

“No one’s leaving you behind,” Jed promised.

“What then?” Beth asked.

“I don’t know. Knox is just going to have to find room for one more, I suppose.” He glared at Gari’s erstwhile antagonizer. How bloody typical that even now she was messing things up, right when he thought he was going to escape the curse of Digger forever. By rights he should deck her one and lock her up until they’d gone. But in the world Kiera promised them, all animosities would be forgiven and forgotten. Even a mobile pain-in-the-arse like Navar. It was an ideal he was desperate to achieve. Would dumping her here make him unworthy of Kiera?

Seeing his indecision, Beth stormed: “Christ, you’re so useless.” She rounded on Navar, the nervejam suddenly in her hand. Navar’s smirk faded as she found herself confronting someone who for once wasn’t going to be wheedled or threatened. “One word out of you, one complaint, one show of your usual malice, and I use this on your bum before I shove you out of the airlock. Got that?” The nerve-jam was pressed against the end of Navar’s nose for emphasis.

“Yes,” the girl squeaked. She looked as miserable and frightened as Gari. Jed couldn’t remember seeing her so disconcerted before.

“Good,” Beth said. The nervejam vanished into a pocket. She flashed Jed a puzzled frown. “I don’t know why you let her give you so much grief the whole time. She’s only a girly brat.”

Jed realized he must be blushing as red as Gari. Explanations now would be pointless, not to mention difficult.

He pulled his shoulder bag out from under the table. It was disappointingly light to be carrying everything he considered essential to his life.

Captain Knox was waiting for them in the lounge at the end of the airlock tube: a short man with the flat features of his Pacific-island ancestry, but the pale skin and ash-blond hair which one of those same ancestors had bought as he geneered his family for free-fall endurance. His light complexion made his anger highly conspicuous.

“I only agreed to fifteen,” he said as Beth and Jed drifted through the hatch. “You’ll have to send some back; three at least.”

Jed tried to push his shoes onto a stikpad. He didn’t like free fall, which made his stomach wobble, his face swell, and clogged his sinuses. Nor was he much good at manoeuvring himself by hanging on to a grab hoop and using his wrists to angle his body. Inertia fought every move, making his tendons burn. When he did manage to touch his sole to the pad there was little adhesion. Like everything else in the inter-orbit ship, it was worn down and out-of-date.

“Nobody is going back,” he said. Gari was clinging to his side, the mass of her floating body trying hard to twist him away from the stikpad. He didn’t let go of the grab hoop.

“Then we don’t leave,” Knox said simply.

Jed saw Gerald Skibbow at the back of the lounge; as usual he was in switch-off, staring at the bulkhead with glazed eyes. Jed was beginning to wonder if he had a serious habit. “Gerald.” He waved urgently. “Gerald!”

Knox muttered under his breath as Gerald came awake in slow stages, his body twitching.

“How many passengers are you licensed for?” Beth asked.

Knox ignored her.

“What is it?” Gerald asked. He was blinking as if the light were too bright.

“Too many people,” Knox said. “You’ve gotta chuck some off.”

“I have to go,” Gerald said quietly.

“No one is saying you don’t, Gerald,” Beth said. “It’s your money.”

“But my ship,” Knox said. “And I’m not carrying this many.”

“Fine,” Beth said. “We’ll just ask the CAB office how many people you’re licensed to carry.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“If you won’t carry us, then return the fee and we’ll find another ship.”

Knox gave Gerald a desperate glance, but he looked equally bewildered.

“Just three, did you say?” Beth asked.

Sensing things were finally flowing in his favour, Knox smiled. “Yes, just three. I’ll be happy to fly a second charter for your friends later.”

Which was rubbish, Beth knew. He was only worried about his own precious skin. A ship operating this close to the margin really would be hard put to sustain nineteen Deadnights plus the crew. It was the first time Knox had shown the slightest concern about the flight. The only interest he’d shown in them before was their ability to pay. Which Gerald had done, and well over the odds, too. They didn’t deserve to be pushed around like this.

But Gerald was totally out of the argument, back in one of his semi-comatose depressions again. And Jed . . . Jed these days was focused on one thing only. Beth still hadn’t made up her mind if she was annoyed about that or not.

“Put three of us in the lifeboat, then,” she said.

“What?” Knox asked.

“You do have a lifeboat?”

“Of course.”

Which is where he and his precious family would shelter if anything did go wrong, she knew. “We’ll put the three youngest in there. They’d be the first in anyway, wouldn’t they?”

Knox glared at her. Ultimately, though, money won the argument. Skibbow had paid double the price of an ordinary charter, even at the inflated rates flights to and from Koblat were currently worth.

“Very well,” Knox said gracelessly. He datavised the flight computer to close the airlock hatch. Koblat’s flight control was already signalling him to leave the docking bay. His filed flight plan gave a departure time of five minutes ago, and another ship was waiting.

“Give him the coordinate,” Beth told Jed. She took Gerald by the arm and gently began to tug him to his couch.

Jed handed the flek over to Knox, wondering how come Beth was suddenly in charge.

The Leonora Cephei rose quickly out of the docking bay; a standard drum-shaped life-support capsule separated from her fusion drive by a thirty-metre spine. Four thermo dump panels unfolded from her rear equipment bay, looking like the cruciform fins of some atmospheric plane. Ion thrusters flared around her base and nose. Without any cargo to carry, manoeuvring was a lot faster and easier than normal. She rotated through ninety degrees, then the secondary drive came on, pushing her out past the rim of the spaceport.

Before Leonora Cephei had travelled five kilometres, the Villeneuve’s Revenge settled onto the waiting cradle of bay WJR-99. Captain Duchamp datavised a request to the spaceport service company for a full load of deuterium and He3 . His fuel levels were down to twenty per cent, he said, and he had a long voyage ahead.

The clouds over Chainbridge formed a tight stationary knot of dark carmine amid the ruby streamers which ebbed and swirled across the rest of the sky. Standing behind Moyo as he drove the bus towards the town, Stephanie could sense the equally darkened minds clustered among the buildings. There were far more than there should have been; Chain-bridge was barely more than an ambitious village.

Moyo’s concern matched hers. His foot eased off the accelerator. “What do you want to do?”

“We don’t have a lot of choice. That’s where the bridge is. And the vehicles need recharging.”

“Go through?”

“Go through. I can’t believe anyone will hurt the children now.”

Chainbridge’s streets were clogged with parked vehicles. They were either military jeeps and scout rangers or lightly armoured infantry carriers. Possessed lounged indolently among them. They reminded Moyo of ancient revolutionary guerillas, with their bold-print camouflage fatigues, heavy lace-up boots, and shoulder-slung rifles.

“Uh oh,” Moyo said. They had reached the town square, a pleasant cobbled district bounded by tall aboriginal leghorn trees. Two light-tracked tanks were drawn up across the road. The machines were impossibly archaic with their iron slab bodywork and chuntering engines coughing up diesel smoke. But that same primitive solidity gave them a unique and unarguable menace.

The Karmic Crusader had already stopped, its cheap effervescent colours quite absurd against the tank’s stolid armour. Moyo braked behind it.

“You stay in here,” Stephanie said, squeezing his shoulder. “The children need someone. This is frightening for them.”

“This is frightening for me,” he groused.

Stephanie stepped down onto the cobbles. Sunglasses spread out from her nose in the same fashion as a butterfly opening its wings.

Cochrane was already arguing with a couple of soldiers who were standing in front of the tanks. Stephanie came up behind him and smiled pleasantly at them. “I’d like to talk to Annette Ekelund, please. Would you tell her we’re here.”

One of them glanced at the Karmic Crusader and the inquisitive children pressed against its windscreen. He nodded, and slipped away past the tanks.

Annette Ekelund emerged from the town hall a couple of minutes later. She was wearing a smart grey uniform, its leather jacket lined in scarlet silk.

“Oh, wow,” Cochrane said as she approached. “It’s Mrs Hitler herself.”

Stephanie growled at him.

“We heard you were coming,” Annette Ekelund said in a tired voice.

“So why have you blocked the road?” Stephanie asked.

“Because I can, of course. Don’t you understand anything?”

“All right, you’ve demonstrated you’re in charge. I accept that. None of us has the slightest intention of challenging you. Can we go past now, please?”

Annette Ekelund shook her head in bemused wonder. “I just had to see you for myself. What do you think you’re doing with these kids? Do you think you’re saving them?”

“Frankly, yes. I’m sorry if that’s too simple for you, but they’re really all I’m interested in.”

“If you genuinely cared, you would have left them alone. It would have been kinder in the long run.”

“They’re children. They’re alone now, and they’re frightened now. Abstract issues don’t mean very much compared to that. And you’re scaring them.”

“Not intentionally.”

“So what is all this martial jingoism for? Keeping us under control?”

“You don’t show a lot of gratitude, do you? I risked everything to bring lost souls back to this world, including yours.”

“And so you think that gives you a shot at being our empress. You didn’t risk anything, you were compelled, just like all of us. You were simply the first, nothing more.”

“I was the first to see what needed to be done. The first to organize. The first to fight. The first to claim victory. The first to stake out our land.” She swept an arm out towards a squad of troops who had taken over a pavement caf

“What these people need is some kind of purpose. Mortonridge is falling apart. There’s no food left, no electricity, nobody knows what to do. With authority comes responsibility. Unless you’re just a bandit queen, of course. If you’re a real leader, you should apply your leadership skills where they’ll do the most good. You made a start, you kept the communications net working, you gave most towns a council of sorts. You should have built on that.”

Annette Ekelund grinned. “What exactly were you before? They told me you were just a housewife.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stephanie said, impatient with the whole charade. “Will you let us through?”

“If I didn’t, you’d only find another way. Of course you can go through. We even have a few children scooting around the town that you can take with you. See? I’m not a complete monster.”

“The buses need recharging first.”

“Naturally.” Ekelund sighed. She beckoned to one of the tank guards. “Dane will show you where a working power point is. Please don’t ask us for any food, I haven’t got enough to spare. I’m having trouble supplying my own troops as it is.”

Stephanie looked at the tanks; if she concentrated hard she could make out the fantasm shapes of the farm tractor mechanoids behind the armour. “What are you and your army doing here?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. I’ve taken that responsibility you prize so highly. I’m protecting Mortonridge for you. We’re only thirty kilometres from the firebreak they slashed across the top of the ridge; and on the other side, the Saldana Princess is preparing. They’re not going to leave us alone, Stephanie Ash. They hate us and they fear us. It’s a nasty combination. So while you go gallivanting around doing your good deeds, just remember who’s holding back the barbarians.” She started back for the tanks, then paused. “You know, one day you’re really going to have to decide where your loyalties lie. You said you’d fight to stop them throwing you back; well if you do, it’ll be at my side.”

“Ho wow, one iron-assed lady,” Cochrane muttered.

“Definitely,” Stephanie agreed.

Dane climbed into the Karmic Crusader with Cochrane and showed them the way to a line of warehouses which served the wharf. Their long roofs were all made from solar collector panels. When the buses were plugged in, Stephanie called her people together and told them what Ekelund had said.

“If any of you want to wait here while the buses go to the firebreak, I’ll understand,” she said. “The Kingdom military might get nervous about four large vehicles heading towards them.”

“They won’t shoot us out of hand,” McPhee said. “Not as long as we don’t cross the line. They’ll be curious.”

“Do you think so?” Tina said anxiously. A large lace hankie was pressed to her lips.

“I’ve been there,” Dane said. “It was a scout mission. I watched them watching me. They won’t start any trouble. Like your friend said, they’ll be curious.”

“We’re almost there.” Stephanie’s fixed smile betrayed her nerves. “Just a few more hours, that’s all.” She glanced back at the buses, putting on a cheerful expression as she waved at the children pressed up against the windows. They had all picked up on the gloomy aura of the darkened clouds overhead. “McPhee, Franklin; give me a hand with them will you. We’ll let them stretch their legs here and use a toilet.”

“Sure.”

Stephanie let Moyo hold her for a moment. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t give up now.”

She smiled shyly. “I won’t. Can you take a look in the warehouses for me, see if you can find some working toilets. If not, we’ll have to make do with tissues and the river.”

“I’ll go check.”

The big sliding doors of the closest warehouse were open. It was used to store tubing, row after row of floor-to-ceiling stacks. All its lights were off, but there was enough pink-tinged sunlight coming through the doors for him to see by. He started checking around for an office.

Silent forklift mechanoids were standing in the aisles, holding up bundles of tubing that had been destined for urgent delivery. It wouldn’t take much effort to start them up again, he thought. But what would be the point? Did a society of possessed need factories and farms? Some infrastructure was necessary, yes, but how much and of what kind? Something simple and efficient, and extremely long-lasting. He was quietly glad that kind of decision wasn’t his.

A pyramid of tubing shielded the man from Moyo’s perception. So he convinced himself later. Whatever the reason, he didn’t notice him until he had rounded a corner and was barely five metres away. And he wasn’t a possessed. Moyo knew his own kind, the internal glimmer of cells excited by the energistic overspill. This man’s biolectric currents were almost black, while his thoughts were fast and quiet. He was excessively ordinary in appearance; wearing pale green trousers, a check shirt, and a sleeveless jacket with DataAxis printed on its left breast pocket.

Moyo was chilled by a rush of panic. Any non-possessed creeping around here had to be a spy, which meant he’d be armed, most likely with something potent enough to terminate a possessed with minimum fuss.

White fire punched out of Moyo’s palm, an instinctive response.

The seething streamer splashed against the man’s face and flowed around him to strike the tubing behind him. Moyo grunted in disbelief. The man simply stood there as if it were water pouring over him.

The white fire dimmed, its remnants retreating into Moyo’s hand. He whimpered, expecting the worst. I’m going to be blown back into the beyond. They’ve found a way of neutralizing our energistic power. We’ve lost. There’s only the beyond now. For always.

He closed his eyes. Thinking with fond longing: Stephanie.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes again. The man was looking at him with a mildly embarrassed expression. Behind him, molten metal was dribbling down the side of the stacked tubing.

“Who are you?” Moyo asked hoarsely.

“My name’s Hugh Rosler. I used to live in Exnall.”

“Did you follow us here?”

“No. Although I did watch your bus leave Exnall. It’s just coincidence I’m here now.”

“Right,” Moyo said carefully. “You’re not a spy then?”

The question was one which Rosler apparently found quite amusing. “Not for the Kulu Kingdom, no.”

“So how come the white fire didn’t affect you?”

“I have a built-in resistance. It was thought we should have some protection when this time came around. And the reality dysfunction ability has proved inordinately useful over the years. I’ve been in a few tight corners in my time; completely inadvertently I might add. I’m not supposed to be obtrusive.”

“Then you are an agent. Who do you work for?”

“Agent implies an active role. I only observe, I’m not part of any faction.”

“Faction?”

“The Kingdom. The Confederation. Adamists. Edenists. The possessed. Factions.”

“Uh huh. Are you going to shoot me, then, or something?”

“Good heavens no. I told you, I’m here purely on observation duty.”

What was being said, apparently in all sincerity, wasn’t helping to calm Moyo at all. “For which faction?”

“Ah. That’s classified, I’m afraid. Technically, I shouldn’t even be telling you this much. But circumstances have changed since my mission began. These things aren’t quite so important today. I’m just trying to put you at ease.”

“It’s not working.”

“You really do have nothing to fear from me.”

“You’re not human, are you?”

“I’m ninety-nine per cent human. That’s good enough to qualify, surely?”

Moyo thought he would have preferred it if Hugh Rosler had launched into an indignant denial. “What’s the one per cent?”

“Sorry. Classified.”

“Xenoc? Is that it? Some unknown race? We always had rumours of pre-technology contact, men being taken away to breed.”

Hugh Rosler chuckled. “Oh, yes, good old Roswell. You know I’d almost forgotten about that; the papers were full of it for decades afterwards. But I don’t think it ever really happened. At least, I never detected any UFOs when I was on Earth, and I was there quite a while.”

“You were . . . ? But . . .”

“I’d better be going. Your friends are starting to wonder where you’ve got to. There’s a toilet in the next warehouse which the children can use. The tank is gravity fed, so it’s still working.”

“Wait! What are you observing us for?”

“To see what happens, of course.”

“Happens? You mean when the Kingdom attacks?”

“No, that’s not really important. I want to see what the outcome is for your entire race now that the beyond has been revealed to you. I must say, I’m becoming quite excited by the prospect. After all, I have been waiting for this for a very long time. It’s my designated goal function.”

Moyo simply stared at him, astonishment and indignation taking the place of fear. “How long?” was all he managed to whisper.

“Eighteen centuries.” Rosler raised an arm in a cheery wave and walked away into the shadows at the back of the warehouse. They seemed to lap him up.

“What’s the matter with you?” Stephanie asked when Moyo shambled slowly out into the gloomy light of the rumbling clouds.

“Don’t laugh, but I think I’ve just met Methuselah’s younger brother.”

Louise heard the lounge hatch slide open, and guessed who it was. His duty watch had finished fifteen minutes ago. Just long enough to show he wasn’t in any sort of rush to see her.

The trouble with the Jamrana , Louise thought, was its layout. Its cabin fittings were just as good as those in the Far Realm , but instead of the pyramid of four life-support capsules, the inter-orbit cargo craft had a single cylindrical life-support section riding above the cargo truss. The decks were stacked one on top of the other like the layers of a wedding cake. To find someone, all you had to do was start at the top, and climb down the central ladder. There was no escape.

“Hello, Louise.”

She reached for a polite smile. “Hello, Pieri.”

Pieri Bushay had just reached twenty, the second oldest of three brothers. Like most inter-orbit ships, Jamrana was run as a family concern; all seven crew members were Bushays. The strangeness of the extended family, the looseness of its internal relationships, was one which Louise found troubling; it was more company than any family she understood. Pieri’s elder brother was away serving a commission in the Govcentral navy, which left his father, twin mothers, brother, and two cousins to run the ship.

Small wonder that a young female passenger would be such an attraction to him. He was shy, and uncertain, which was endearing; nothing like the misplaced assurance of William Elphinstone.

“How are you feeling?”

His usual opening line.

“Fine.” Louise tapped the little nanonic package behind her ear. “The wonders of Confederation technology.”

“We’ll be flipping over in another twenty hours. Halfway there. Then we’ll be flying ass . . . er, I mean, bottom backwards to Earth.”

She was impatient with the fact it was going to take longer to fly seventy million kilometres between planets than it had to fly between stars. But at least the fusion drive was scheduled to be on for a third of the trip. The medical packages didn’t have to work quite so hard to negate her sickness. “That’s good.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to datavise the O’Neill Halo to see if there’s a ship heading for Tranquillity?”

“No.” That had been too sharp. “Thank you, Pieri, but if a ship is going, then it’s going, if not, there’s nothing I can do. Fate, you see.”

“Oh, sure. I understand.” He smiled tentatively. “Louise, if you have to stay in the Halo till you find a starship, I’d like to show you around. I’ve visited hundreds of the rocks. I know what’s hot out there, what to see, what to miss. It would be fun.”

“Hundreds?”

“Fifty, at least. And all the major ones, including Nova Kong.”

“I’m sorry, Pieri, that doesn’t mean much to me. I’ve never heard of Nova Kong.”

“Really? Not even on Norfolk?”

“No. The only one I know is High York, and that’s only because we’re heading to it.”

“But Nova Kong is famous; one of the first to be flown into Earth orbit and be made habitable. Nova Kong physicists invented the ZTT drive. And Richard Saldana was the asteroid’s chairman once; he used it as his headquarters to plan the Kulu colonization.”

“How fabulous. I can’t really imagine a time when the Kingdom didn’t exist, it seems so . . . substantial. In fact all of Earth’s prestarflight history reads like a fable to me. So, have you ever visited High York before?”

“Yes, it’s where the Jamrana is registered.”

“That’s your home, then?”

“We mostly dock there, but the ship’s my real home. I wouldn’t swap it for anything.”

“Just like Joshua. You space types are all the same. You’ve got wild blood.”

“I suppose so.” His face tightened at the mention of Joshua; the guardian angel fianc

“Is High York very well organized?”

He seemed puzzled by the question. “Yes. Of course. It has to be. Asteroids are nothing like planets, Louise. If the environment isn’t maintained properly you’d have a catastrophe on your hands. They can’t afford not to be well organized.”

“I know that. What I meant was, the government. Does it have very strong law enforcement policies? Phobos seemed fairly easygoing.”

“That’s the devout Communists for you; they’re very trusting, Dad says they always give people the benefit of the doubt.”

It confirmed her worries. When the four of them had arrived at the Jamrana a couple of hours before its departure, Endron had handed over their passport fleks to the single Immigration Officer on duty. He had known the woman, and they’d spoken cheerfully. She’d been laughing when she slotted the fleks into her processor block, barely glancing at the images they stored. Three transient offworlders with official documentation, who were friends of Endron . . . She even allowed Endron to accompany them on board.

That was when he’d taken Louise aside. “You won’t make it, you know that, don’t you?” he asked.

“We’ve got this far,” she said shakily. Though she’d had her doubts. There had been so many people as they made their tortuous way to the spaceport with the cargo mechanoid concealing Faurax’s unconscious body. But they’d got the forger on board the Far Realm and into a zero-tau pod without incident.

“So far you’ve had a lot of luck, and no genuine obstacle. That’s going to end as soon as the Jamrana enters Govcentral-controlled space. You don’t understand what it’s going to be like, Louise. There’s no way you’ll ever get inside High York. Look, the only reason you ever got inside Phobos was because we smuggled you in, and no one bothered to inspect the Far Realm . You got out, because no one is bothered about departing ships. And now you’re heading straight at Earth, which has the largest single population in the Confederation, and runs the greatest military force ever assembled—a military force which along with the leadership is very paranoid right now. Three forged passports are not going to get you in. They are going to run every test they can think of, Louise, and believe me, Fletcher is not going to get through High York’s spaceport.” He was almost pleading with her. “Come with me, tell our government what’s happened. They won’t hurt him, I’ll testify that he’s not a danger. Then after that we can find you a ship to Tranquillity, all above board.”

“No. You don’t understand, they’ll send him back to the beyond. I saw it on the news; if you put a possessed in zero-tau it compels them out of the body they’re using. I can’t turn Fletcher in, not if they’re going to force him back there. He’s suffered for seven centuries. Isn’t that enough?”

“And what about the person whose body he’s possessing?”

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I didn’t want any of this. My whole planet’s been possessed.”

“All right. I’m sorry. But I had to say it. You’re doing a damn sight worse than playing with fire, Louise.”

“Yes.” She held on to his shoulder with one hand to steady herself and brushed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you. I’m sure you could have blown the whistle on us if you really wanted to.”

His reddening cheeks were confirmation enough. “Yeah, well. Maybe I learned from you that nothing is quite black and white. Besides, that Fletcher, he’s so . . .”