“My soldiers are not suitable to police work. The local authorities are as corrupt as their former masters, and it is hopeless to expect anything from them until years of reform have done their work. For this purpose I must build my own police force, my own power base. But the New City movement here is limited to a few intellectuals, a few discussion groups—I have no cadre, no organized group of followers ready to step into place. And…” He looks up at Aiah, eyes challenging hers, and she feels ice water flood her spine.

“You,” he says. “You will build this force for me. You have found plasm thieves in the past, and in my service you were a plasm thief. I wish you to find these thieves and return their power to the service of the state.”

Aiah blinks at him across the table. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or simply to be appalled by the suggestion.

“Metropolitan?” she asks. “Are you sure it’s me you want?”

Cold amusement enters his glance. “Of course,” he says. “Why not?”

“I’m a foreigner, for one thing.”

“That’s an advantage. It means you’re not part of the corrupt structure here in Caraqui.” “I’ve never done police work.”

“You will have people, qualified people, to do the work for you. But I want you in charge. I need someone I can trust heading the department.”

“I’m twenty-five years old!” she says. “I’ve never run anything like this in my life.”

He gives her a sharp look. “You have worked within a government department concerned with plasm regulation. You know where it went right, went wrong. You studied administration at university.” He assesses her with his gold-flecked eyes, then nods. “And I have faith in your abilities, even if you do not. You have never disappointed me, Miss Aiah.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start looking for plasm thieves.”

Constantine bares his teeth. “Start looking in my office. My waiting room is full of people offering me bribes.” He smiles. “I will give you a list.”