"Second: Get the lab report on Andrew's death and enter the details into your

terminal, in a secure file. Without telling anyone about It."

"I understand. Anything else?"

"Assemble a dossier on Lord Nigel Carfax. Everything we have. In particular,

passport records. Date of entry, point of origin, etc. Photographs, If any

are

available. Got that?"

"Got It. Is there any way that I can get In touch with you?"

Blood glanced at the others.

"We could have Archimedes check his terminal for messages every fifteen

minutes

or half hour or whatever," Jacqueline said.

Blood nodded and typed, "Leave a message for me on your terminal. Secure

file,

got It? Our password key will be Archimedes."

"Understood. Archimedes. Good luck, sir."

"Thanks, Danny. Over and out."

"Well, that's that," said Blood, looking at the others. "We'll know soon

enough."

"Yeah," said Wyrdrune, "I just hope that it is soon enough."

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching Royce Blood at the bar across

the

room drinking whiskey to steady his nerves. He smiled. It must have taken all

the nerve the poor man had to resist Terri. And that had to be considerable.

Still, it would be good for her. Take some of the wind out of her sails.

She'd

been getting a bit too full of herself and starting to forget her place. She

had

needed a little reminder.

A change came over him as he watched Royce Blood. His clothing seemed to

shimmer

and blur, like waves of heat dancing on the desert, and when he stepped off

the

stairs, his black leather pants and black open-necked silk shirt had changed

to

an elegant dark suit, impeccably tailored in the height of conservative

fashion,

the sort of thing a successful executive would wear. He approached Royce

Blood

at the bar.

"A bit too much for you, was she?" he said casually as he signaled the

bartender

for a drink.

Royce started. "I beg your pardon?"