Brother Song stopped before a large door. The sign above it was brave and floral:TO THE SUNROOM .

"Ducanh will be the one watching the sunset." But the monk did not open the door. He stood with his head bowed, not quite blocking the way.

Sammy started to walk around him, then stopped, and said, "The payment I mentioned: It will be deposited to your order's account." The old man didn't look up at him. He spat on Sammy's jacket and then walked back down the hall, pushing past the constables.

Sammy turned and pulled at the door's mechanical latch.

"Sir?" It was the Commissioner of Urban Security. The cop-bureaucrat stepped close and spoke softly. "Um. We didn't want this escort job, sir. This should have been your own people."

Huh?"I agree, Commissioner. So why didn't you let me bring them?"

"It wasn't my decision. I think they figured that constables would be more discreet." The cop looked away. "Look, Fleet Captain. We know you Qeng Ho carry grudges a long time."

Sammy nodded, although that truth applied more to customer civilizations than to individuals.

The cop finally looked him in the eye. "Okay. We've cooperated. We made sure that nothing about your search could leak back to your...target. But we won't do this guy for you. We'll look the other way; we won't stop you. But I won't do him."

"Ah." Sammy tried to imagine just where in the moral pantheon this fellow would fit. "Well, Commissioner, staying out of my way is all that is required. I can take care of this myself."

The cop gave a jerky nod. He stepped back, and didn't follow when Sammy opened the door "to the sunroom."

The air was chill and stale, an improvement over the rank humidity of the hallway. Sammy walked down a dark stairway. He was still indoors, but not by much. This had been an exterior entrance once, leading down to street level. Plastic sheeting walled it in now, creating some kind of sheltered patio.