But Pedro Manella arrived first, amid a flurry of accusations, and suddenly it was too late. Alex’s world collapsed around him before he could act, or even find out for certain what he’d made.

“So it is a monster… a taniwha,” George Hutton breathed. The Maori word sounded fearsome. The big man drummed his fingers on the table. “Let’s see if I’ve got this right. We have a purported stable black hole, that you think may orbit thousands of miles below our feet, possibly growing unstoppably even as we speak. Correct? I suppose you want my help finding what you so carelessly misplaced?”

Alex was nearly as impressed with Hutton’s quickness as he was irked by his attitude. He suppressed a hot response. “I guess you could put it that way,” he answered, levelly.

“So. Would it be too much to ask how you’d go about looking for such an elusive fiend? It’s a little hard to go digging around down there in the Earth’s core.”

Hutton obviously thought he was being ironic. But Alex gave him a straightforward answer. “Your company already makes most of the equipment I’d need… like those superconducting gravity scanners you use for mineral surveys.” Alex started reaching for his valise. “I’ve written down modifications—”

Hutton raised a hand. All trace of sardonicism was gone from his eyes. “I’ll take your word for now. It will be expensive, of course? No matter. If we find nothing, I’ll take the cost out of your pakeha hide. I’ll skin you and sell the pale thing in a tourist shop. Agreed?”

Alex swallowed, unable to believe it could be so simple. “Agreed. And if we do find it?”

Lines furrowed Hutton’s brow. “Why… then I’d be honor bound to take your pelt anyway, tohunga. For creating such a devil to consume our Earth, I should…”