“Yes, Lip City,” Sharrow said. “I imagine they are still upset about that damn Lazy Gun.” She gazed ahead to the dimly glinting shape of her distant hydrofoil.

(And in her mind saw again the line of desert hills beyond the stone balustrade of the hotel room balcony, and the faint crease of dawn-light above, suddenly swamped by the stuttering pulses of silent fire from beyond the horizon. She had watched-dazed and dazzled and wondering-as that distant eruption of annihilation had lit up the face of her lover.)

Geis’s voice sounded tired as he said, “Actually, I think the Huhsz must have got to one of the justiciaries. There’s been talk of one of the old guys being found in a snuff parlour a few days ago. I wouldn’t put it past the Huhsz to have set the whole thing up just to pocket a judge.”

“My,” Sharrow said, pulling a hand through her thick hair (Geis watched, eyes following those pale fingers as they ploughed that black field). “What energy and enterprise those Huhsz boys display.”

Geis nodded. “They’ve been lucky with their recruitment and investments recently, too,” he said. “Highly fluid; probably the most profitable order on Golter just now. It’s all helped them get their, war chest together.” His brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, Sharrow. I feel I’ve let you down.”

She shrugged. “Had to happen sooner or later. You’ve done all you can. Thanks.” She looked at him, then briefly put a hand out to touch his forearm. “I appreciate it, Geis.”

“Let me hide you, Sharrow,” he said suddenly.

She shook her head. “Geis-”

“I have interests they can’t-”

“Geis, no; I-”

“No; listen; I’ve places nobody-”

“No, I-”

“Safe houses; offices; whole estates that don’t appear on any inventory, here and on other planets; cascade-owned companies my own chief execs don’t know about…”