When Priyanka emerged in the morning to make her breakfast, Marco had already eaten and didn’t want to impose upon her morning routine.  She called his phone, however, and invited him to join her outside the habitat for coffee. 

“As you might have gathered, Detective, I am somewhat accomplished with telecommunications networking.”

“Yah, I noticed.”

“I have been particularly successful in refining the accuracy of signal location.  Such as the signal emitted by your ankle bracelet.”

Marco looked up into her dark brown eyes and found no sign of censure.  “I wanted to tell you about Blythe and Chadwell, but you didn’t answer and I got concerned.”

“So you let yourself into my bedroom and got a show instead.”  There was no mistaking the smirk that was creeping across her face.

“I couldn’t—I didn’t see anything scandalous, except . . .”

She raised her eyebrows.  “Yes?”

“Your hair.  It was quite something to see it all down and flowing like that.  I’m afraid I lingered a bit.”

“I see,“ she said, exhaling slowly. “You thought the evil mastermind Hamilton Chadwell had reached through the internet and incapacitated me in my bedroom?”

Marco tried not to sound defensive.  “I merely presumed you shared the value I place on timely research.”

Priyanka accepted the riposte.  “A valid presumption.”

“Could you find anything else?”

“Only indirectly.  If the Federal prosecutor couldn’t hang the conspiracy on Chadwell, I doubt I could without access to the case file, and as it stands the Discretionary Order doesn’t cover it.”

“Couldn’t you get Kobick to expand the order?”

“Not without a proper forensics report from your captain, which doesn’t look to be forthcoming anytime soon.”

Priyanka took a long sip of coffee.  “So, aren’t you going to judge me for my taste in pornography?”

It was Marco’s turn to exhale.  “Hell, no.  I’ve seen a couple of samples with that guy playing the groomsman.  Of course, this was the first time that his cock has been bigger than me.”

This last wasn’t literally true; almost all porn performers came from the warrens and none ever earned enough to be restored before they retired.

“Well,” chuckled Priyanka, “you made quite an expedition.  I trust that, after all your exertions, you were able to satisfy yourself?”

Marco almost sputtered as some of his coffee went down the wrong pipe.  Priyanka was sitting back in her chair, regarding him from the sides of her eyes, but she was still subjectively 140 feet tall.  He decided truth was the best policy.

“Actually, I was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed.”

“Oh dear,” she said, her face becoming serious.  “I fear an injury to my sense of hospitality.”  With that, she got up to clear the dishes, and Marco couldn’t think of anything to say as they left for the interview.

Priyanka and Marco agreed that he shouldn’t be introduced to Chadwell for the interview but instead stay out of sight and observe.  Surprisingly, Chadwell’s offices weren’t in the Financial District but rather in Pacific Heights, and Marco was nestled in Priyanka’s pocket for the entire trip. 

Aside from certain government facilities in Washington, Priyanka had never been in a space so menacingly elegant.  She was sure that only her Cohort credentials exempted her from a physical search.  None of the guards were uniformed or obviously armed, but their carriage belied both military training and augmented senses.  Thirty of her minutes were wasted by a “director of environmental integrity” who had clearly been tasked with attempting to parry her inquiry and sparing Chadwell from having to see her.  Ultimately, her polite but unwavering persistence gained her admission to the man’s presence.

Chadwell was dressed far more casually than similarly accomplished financiers of Priyanka’s experience.  He looked as if he had just stepped off the deck of his yacht, which perhaps he had.  She knew he kept a 100-foot cruiser moored just down the hill next to the Presidio.

“Good morning, Centurion Mukhopadhyay,” he said warmly.  “I’m sorry Tony wasn’t able to satisfy your inquiries.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chadwell.  Before we begin, please be advised that this investigation is being audio- and video recorded and these recordings have been pre-admitted to all Federal and state courts except for certain parishes in Louisiana.”

“I have been so advised.”

“Very well.  Now, your employee Mr. Knowles stated for the record that all of the messages from Dr. Payne addressed to you were intercepted by your firm-wide spam filter, logged, and deleted.”

“That sounds consistent with our policy.”

“Did you yourself log or delete any of these messages?”

“Not my province, I’m afraid.  But I understand that we have preserved the log longer than is required by statute.”

“That is correct, Mr. Chadwell.  Your firm is to be commended for its diligence.”

“Thank you, Centurion.  High praise from an officer of the Cohort.”

“Do you know Benjamin Payne?”

“Centurion, I had never heard of him until you called yesterday.”

“Do you know any of the people whose medical profiles Dr. Payne sent to you?”

“I don’t even know their names.”

“Are you aware that Dr. Payne is a resident of the Oakland warren?”

“How bizarre.  No, I was not aware.”

“What would you say if I told you that all of the people whose medical profiles Dr. Payne sent you were warren residents?”

“I’d say you were out of your jurisdiction, Centurion.  Doesn’t Warren Administration have staff for this sort of thing?”

“My Tribune has exercised his discretion in this matter.”

“Your Tribune?  Not you?  How unsettling for you.  Would you like to work for Warren Administration?  I can assist with that, if you like.”

Marco shifted slightly in Priyanka’s pocket.  She gave a rueful smile.  “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Chadwell, but I don’t think Prefect Matsuno is ready to give me up just yet.”

Chadwell’s smirk didn’t flicker at the mention of the renowned Prefect, but he failed to follow up his attack, so Priyanka pressed on.  “Do you know anyone who has been subjected to the Jedlina-Kuriyama effect?” she asked.

“I hardly think so.  In truth, Centurion, I often forget they’re still around.  But that was the point, wasn’t it?”

“I can assure you, Mr. Chadwell, that the Federal Cohort owes a duty of protection to all citizens, including those living in the warrens, and we have not forgotten them.”

“Of course,” said Chadwell, looking at his phone.  “Is there anything else I can do to personally assist with your inquiries?”

“No, I believe that concludes my questions,” said Priyanka, standing.  “Thank you, Mr. Chadwell, you’ve been thoroughly cooperative.”

Once Priyanka had exited from Chadwell’s premises, she switched off her personal recording suite. 

“I feel I must apologize for Mr. Chadwell’s rudeness, Detective,” she said.

“Not at all, Centurion,” replied Marco, his head emerging from her tunic pocket.  “I think you should have introduced me.  I’m sure he would have been much more respectful to my person.”

This got a laugh from Priyanka, sending Marco a thrilling tremor through her breast.

“I don’t think he would have even flinched if I had mentioned Nicole Blythe, so it’s better he not know we know about her.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Marco.  “You think the log is genuine?”

“No way to prove otherwise.  But the fact they still have it is suspicious.”

They returned to Cohort HQ, and Marco waited in Priyanka’s purse while she changed into plainclothes for their visit to the first of Orlov’s known locales.  When Priyanka announced her readiness, Marco climbed half-way out and studied her outfit.

“I’m trying to look like I married one of these homesick Russians, right?” she explained.  “Not a lot of money, trying to show I can contribute without being too independent, with a bit of trophy on the side.  This is what you get.”

Marco was in no position to judge Big Sky fashion.  Her top was a short-sleeve smock in an abstract floral pattern, which she had paired with very tight black pants that accentuated her hips.  He was disappointed to see that not only was her hair still bound up, it was also partially covered by shimmering cloth.  Her simple earrings had vanished, but her fingers now sported two rings with gaudy stones.

“I’m going to ride in there?” asked Marco, pointing at a large canvas shoulder bag and imagining the motion sickness.

“I’m afraid so,” replied Priyanka, setting it down and beginning to transfer items from her purse.  “A jacket would look suspicious in this weather, and no one’s seen a fanny pack down there in years.”

The first target was a delicatessen at which Orlov was last observed about three years ago.  As their car approached the neighborhood, Marco took a leap.

“Centurion, I really need to stretch my legs.  What do you say to the idea of me doing a little advance recon before you make your pass?”

“I’d say it would be unnecessarily dangerous, Detective.”

“Look, Orlov’s almost certainly not here, but they’ll let him know someone’s looking for him.”

“I’ve already placed a roving tap-and-trace for all nodes presently within 12 blocks.”

“These guys are used to living with that kind of attention.  You need someone in the back room when you say Orlov’s name.  If he’s in town, I’ll see it from their reaction.”

Priyanka knew he was right, but the risk of sending a three-inch-tall person into a mob hangout was inexcusable.  As she hesitated, Marco played his last card.

“I haven’t done anything all day.  Pretty soon either my captain or your Tribune is going to order me back to the warren.”

Priyanka looked at the tiny man perched on top of the ridiculous bag she had checked out from Wardrobe.  It was plain that he knew the hazards of his proposal.  She admired both his courage and his determination to see the investigation through.  Also, she admitted to herself that she wasn’t ready for her partnership with Marco to end.

“Alright, Detective, you’re right.  I do want to know what they do behind closed doors.  Do you have any Russian?”

“Enough to ask for directions or order a piroshky.  You?”

“I took a year course with an old NSA analyst.  I also like piroshky,” she deadpanned.

“Let’s pick some up at the end of the shift.  I’m buying.”