Deep Cover

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue

The sign on the door said "Maretases and Colse" in small letters, repeating information in larger letters in the lobby forty-seven floors below. Mavilla Colse wiped a speck of dust from his name with one slender finger and rubbed it on his jacket, which was wrinkled and out of fashion and had elbow patches that might have been decorative on a younger garment. He stared at his round pink face reflected in the sign and ran both hands through his sparse blond hair. He frowned and grunted, and entered his code on the keypad beside the door.

The cramped office held three desks, a threadbare sofa, four unmatched chairs, and two antique filing cabinets. One desk, facing the door, was bare. The other two, on opposite sides of the room beneath the window on the far wall, bore signs of life. The one on the right spilled over onto the floor. The Imperial CommTerm/DataNet peeked out from a mountain of hardcopy, surrounded by styli, pocket terminals, empty bottles, crumpled foodpaks, and jumbled piles of smaller junk. The terminal on the other desk glowed soft green. The only other things on the desk were a thin coat of dust and a pair of feet, crossed at the ankles.

"Wonders never cease," said Mavilla Colse, closing the door. "I recognize the feet, I've seen them there before. But what is that unholy light? Rallez! I thought that terminal was broken."

One foot thudded to the floor. Maretases sat up sharply. "Damn!" he muttered, backscrolling fitfully.

"Lose your place?"

Maretases glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hello, Mav. Just making sure I read this right. Didn't hear you come in."

"No wonder. What's that you're reading? Blazing Trails of Passion again?"

"Trials of passion, and no. It's called The Power Purge, and it's more boring than your family album."

"Oh? What's it about?"

"It's got a subtitle. You ever seen that before? It says 'the power purge, colon, causes and consequences of Kalinor witch hunts.' I don't think I trust titles with colons in them."

"I admit it's not your usual fare. University, right? Have we taken the case?"

"Not yet. I'm meeting Yateef's secretary later on to talk about it. She recommended this book."

"Did she, now?" Colse crossed to his desk and keyed to DataNet. He laughed. "You're studying for a date?"

"Oh no. What time is it?" Maretases shot to his feet and fumbled his jacket straight.

"Almost twenty. What's the biblio number?"

"Uh, 14IUS-2738/AE. I've got to run. I'm meeting Para at twenty-half. Think I have time to shower?"

"Think you better take time." Colse scrolled through the bibliofile. "What did you say her name was?"

"Para. Why?"

"Para Follen?"

"Sure. What of it?"

"You'd better rethink your table talk, then. She's not Yateef's secretary."

"Oh?"

"Definitely not. She's first or second author on half the titles here. After Huwei Yateef, but before Grendel Greystone. She's an anthropologist. Professor, I'd say."

Maretases brushed absently at his trousers. "You're saying I should forget my secretary jokes."

"At least. Call me after dinner."

"Right."