The AEC police car swept up to the center’s main entrance and its door opened for Paula. She got out and greeted Elene Castle, the clinic’s deputy manager. As the woman chattered away in a slightly nervous manner, Paula underwent a touch of déjà vu; it wasn’t that long ago she’d visited the Clayden Clinic and Wyobie Cotal. But then, most of her cases involved a visit to medical facilities at some point or other.

Elene took her past the first two blocks, which contained the private recovery rooms, day lounges, and physical therapy spas. Paula was familiar with the setup, her own post-rejuvenation rehabilitations had been spent in almost identical buildings. The Manby had a slightly plusher decor, but the rituals would be the same. Elene Castle was delivering her to the third block, where the actual rejuvenation treatment was conducted. The long corridors were strangely empty. As Paula passed a lounge, she saw a number of recovering clients slumped in deep chairs watching the Augusta StLincoln Cup match. Nursing staff hung around unobtrusively, keeping an eye on the big portal as the two national teams duked it out on emerald grass.

“I’m afraid you will have to wait for another couple of hours,” the deputy manager said apologetically as a collective groan went up from the lounge as StLincoln’s striker missed a shot. “Professor Bose was withdrawn from the actual treatment chamber only forty minutes ago. It will take him a while to recover sufficiently to answer your questions.”

“I can wait that long,” Paula said. On any other world, it would have taken weeks just to get a court order allowing her to interrupt a rejuvenation. But CST was paying for Bose’s fast-tracked treatment, and Augusta was essentially controlled by the Sheldon family. It hadn’t been difficult to arrange.

Paula was shown into a reception room, where a man and a woman were standing waiting. “This is Mrs. Wendy Bose,” Elene said, “and…”

“Professor Truten,” the man said, offering his hand. He was in late middle age, dressed in the kind of suit that Paula guessed had gone out of fashion several centuries earlier. The fabric was a brown tweed, cut with very small lapels. Judging from the tightness across his shoulders the professor must have bought it quite some time ago. “I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, Chief Investigator,” he said. “It’s a shame it had to be under these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Paula asked.

“You exert a natural fascination on members of my profession. Unfortunately, I am here to represent Professor and Mrs. Bose.”

Paula gave Wendy Bose a sharp glance; in her opinion the woman’s jittery inability to return the contact spelled out a great deal of guilt. Unfortunately, Paula didn’t know what the crime could possibly be. The Directorate had run its usual search, and Wendy Bose had come up completely clean. “And what is your little profession, exactly?”

“Ah, yes. I teach law at Leonida City university.”

Paula kept staring at Wendy Bose, who was looking all around the small room. “I didn’t know the professor was guilty of anything.”

“He’s not. Everybody is innocent until proven guilty. Commonwealth Charter Clause 3a. As I’m sure you’re aware.”

“If he’s not guilty, what does he need a lawyer for?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to question him about?”

Elene cleared her throat. “I think I’ll leave at this point.”

“Thank you,” Paula said. “Please call me when Professor Bose has recovered.”

“Of course.”

“So does a professor of law on Gralmond know much about Augusta law?” Paula asked once the door had closed behind the deputy manager.

“There’s not much law here to know. Augusta is hardly an enviable democratic model.”

“Exactly. You don’t have any jurisdiction here. Whereas I have a lot. I can have you removed from the planet very easily.”

“Surely you believe in fairness, Chief Investigator?”

“Fairness I believe in more than you ever can. I also believe in justice. What I don’t tolerate is lawyers interfering with that justice.”

“Ah yes, we’re always the bad guys, aren’t we?”

“Wherever you find human misery, you find lawyers, either causing it or making a profit from it.”

“Please,” Wendy Bose implored. “I asked Professor Truten to come here. I don’t know any lawyers on Augusta, and we don’t have much money. Dudley isn’t receiving any salary while he’s in regeneration.”

“Dudley is a colleague,” Truten said. “Surely having a witness and advisor can’t harm your investigation. He’s bound to ask for a lawyer anyway.”

“I’m not investigating Dudley Bose,” Paula said. “As far as I know, he’s not guilty of anything.” She gave the lawyer a pointed look. “You obviously believe differently. Why is that?”

Wendy Bose gave Truten a questioning look.

“I don’t understand,” the lawyer said. “Dudley is only having two months of rejuvenation treatment. That’s all the time he can afford before the starship leaves, and that’ll barely get him into a reasonable physical condition. This investigation must be incredibly important for you to have him pulled out of that. You might have cost him his place on the crew.”

“Not a factor for me.”

“What do you think he’s done?” Wendy Bose asked.

There was desperation in her voice, but Paula knew that wasn’t all. Some of the worry was for herself.

“Very well, but this investigation is confidential. You are not at liberty to discuss it without my express permission.”

“I am aware of basic law…” Truten trailed off under Paula’s gaze.

“We believe that that attack on the Second Chance was made by a group called the Guardians of Selfhood. They are an obscure paramilitary political group based on Far Away who believe the Commonwealth is politically manipulated by an alien.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Truten said. “My e-butler has let their shotgun messages through its filters several times, unfortunately.”

“In order for them to see the Second Chance as a threat,” Paula said, “they would need to establish a link between its construction and their alleged enemy alien. What I’m trying to do is uncover that link, or at least their belief in a link. As the whole mission started because of Professor Bose’s discovery, he was the logical place to begin.”

“I hardly think this warrants yanking him out of the treatment.”

“It didn’t,” Paula said. “This kind of data analysis is a standard correlation for the Directorate RI. It came up with an unusual coincidence. I want to ask the professor about it. That’s all.”

“What was the coincidence?”

“The Cox Education charity account in the Denman Manhattan Bank was subject to an attempted data hack some while ago, prior to the attack. The charity is one of the sponsors of your husband’s astronomy department. Obviously, the Guardians believed the charity was channeling money into the Dyson Pair observation project on behalf of the alien. We assume they were trying to find their ‘evidence’ for this in the charity’s financial records. They weren’t successful in gaining access to the secure files, the bank’s smartware managed to lock them out. It wasn’t considered important at the time, the bank is subject to many such attacks, but the Trojan the hackers used to ride in on was based around Professor Bose’s codes.” She watched with interest as the color faded from Wendy Bose’s face. The woman reached out for Truten’s support. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Truten nodded encouragingly. His grip on Wendy Bose’s arm tightened. There could have been a degree of affection in that grip, Paula decided.

“He said to tell you something,” Wendy Bose said. “I didn’t understand at the time.”

“Your husband?”

“No, the reporter. He said, ‘Tell her from me to stop concentrating on the details, it’s the big picture that counts.’ ”

“A reporter said that to you?”

“Yes. To tell Paula when I see her, that’s what he said. I don’t know anyone called Paula. And we were talking about the astronomy department’s sponsors. He was interviewing me.”