The intelligence report on Augustine's gossamer screen showed the woman called Alex Marlboro in civilian clothes. If anything, the oversized clothes made the amazonian look stouter, her shoulders even more formidable.

Augustine sat in her office overlooking Chicago's jutting skyline at night, her mind deep in troubled thoughts. The myriad lights stretching into the horizon had lost their wonderment, now resembling a moving carpet of termites, flying and crawling.

A sense of unfulfilled expectation squeezed her chest. She kept turning to the report, searching for new insights. But there was no more. She had to accept that Balkan's death was an opportunity killing, unplanned and therefore unpredictable. But the death of such a man would bring tremors. From within.

As if on cue, her aural mic chirped. A message from an aide informed her of a priority call pending connection. On the other end was the Special Counsel to the Chairmark, Leggett Emile Vargas, the Midland weasel. The lawyer had always made her uncomfortable and on guard. The man oozed in his slickness, yet somehow had attained such heights with her Chairmark.

Augustine leaned back in her chair. She calmed her mind with a hit of oxygen, then swiped the connection request from her screen, granting the caller a full-torso holographic representation. Vargas materialized in the chair in front of her from abdomen up. The mini-clock on the screen told her it was eight AM wherever he was, probably in Asia, at one of their subsidiaries in Kuala Lumpur, or Singapore or Macao.

"Devlin," he opened with a cheerful grin. The true chromatic emitters showed him wearing a tan silk shirt with ascot, skin melanin-adjusted for the tropics.

Pretentious bastard. "Vargas, what can I do for you?" A ridiculous greeting from her, of course. Both knew exactly why he called. And she didn't care for him using her familiar. She was a GR no less and should be given due respect. But according to the Midland organizational chart, his position sat directly underneath the Chairmark alone on his own strata, sharing power with no other. Vargas was independent, autonomous and untouchable.

"I heard some incredible news all the way from Saigon."

"Victor Balkan?" She feigned coyness.

"Yes."

"Tragic. Play with spiders, one day you'll be bitten."

"Good advice, yet a little bird told me you were running a side op close by, unsanctioned I might add. Were you involved with his death in any way?"

"Absolutely not. I would never --"

"You are candid about non-involvement? I ask because there're concerns from the Chairmark."

"The concern is?"

"Will you go on record?"

"I see no need."

"I will determine if there's a legal need or not, thank you. That is my purview," Vargas said, his smile sagging. "Why don't you tell me what you know, Devlin."

"Know? What's there to know?"

"This is not a time for games, Your Excellency."

Augustine smirked, holding herself from reacting. The little man is playing with me. "Very well, a few days ago, I was approached with a private offer from Ian Moreau, you know -- the prominent TexPax technologist. He wanted to negotiate his defection."

"Yes, I heard something about that, he's a TexPax technocrat of some repute."

She hid her annoyance that he was so informed. "In exchange for protection and Affiliate status, he was willing to turn over the files of Carnivora, the auto-generation bio-program TexPax ventured with DARPA . . ." She paused. "We rejected the offer, of course. And that was the last I saw of Moreau."

"Why did you say no?"

"He wasn't forthcoming about matters relating to Caracas-gate."

"For what reason?"

"I wanted Moreau to blow the lid off Conclave. Since that wasn't going to happen, I walked away."

"From a multi-billion-dollar bio-enhancement program?"

"The risks were too high."

"Yet you never shared the information with me or anyone. It wasn't your place to determine acquisition risks."

"I am a senior Governor Regent, second to the Chairmark. And it is political risk that I determined."

Vargas sighed visibly. "And then?"

"Two days later, Moreau was murdered."

Vargas frowned. "You should have consulted us."

"I didn't solicit him. Moreau fell onto my lap," she said unapologetically. "He was mine to deal with however I wish."

"And in the end, he's dead . . . and now Balkan."

"Of what happened to Balkan I had no foreknowledge."

"No? Madam, you've ignored established Rules of Acquisition and Proper Engagement Protocol." Vargas paused. "What I don't understand is, why didn't you offer Moreau security, knowing he was defecting?"

"Now hold on." Her temperature was rising fast. "I did -- but it was too late. A purge had been issued."

"So, you did know more than you'd admit."

"Be careful what you say next, Vargas."

"You claim Balkan issued the kill order but that would make no sense," Vargas said, rubbing his chin. "He's a cabinet secretary and former Viceroy. He would never do something so provocative or risky to the PIP."

"He did what was required -- because Austin had offered him the Oval Office for the next Conclave, to replace the lame-duck president. They wanted Caracas-gate to go away."

"Is this your speculation?"

"I have it from a good source."

Vargas carped. "Had it occurred to you this might be a trap?"

"I wasn't trapped in any way." Augustine scoffed at the absurdity.

"Not you, Your Excellency -- Balkan," Vargas stretched his words into a mocking sneer. "Austin probably used him to do the dirty work. They knew the affair with Caracas would blowback and might affect Conclave. So, they promised a hungry fool 'if you clean house, you get to play master.' Balkan jumped at the offer never realizing it was a deliberate ploy. He fell for it . . . And so did you."

"I did what I thought best to advance our position."

"Instead you've jacked up political risk by abetting an assassination."

She stiffened. "I did no such thing!"

Vargas resumed the cross-examination. "Did you not aid this woman Marlboro and her friends who happened to be trained killers? Yes, I know all about that too."

Augustine bit her lip. What doesn't he know?

"I gave her sanctuary. So?"

Vargas sighed loudly. "You dragged us into an affair we have no business in. Now Austin knows we had a hand in killing Balkan, which makes things rather precarious from where I'm sitting."

"Don't try to pin this on me," Augustine said, a low growl emanating from her throat. She felt hot, her neck constricted by her collar.

"I don't have to. Carlyle is very displeased."

Here was the next move then, she thought. "Are you the messenger or my executioner?"

He struggled to smile. "The situation between Midland and TexPax is endemic, more so with Conclave looming," Vargas continued. "They're continuing to push into our southernmost sectors." His digital voice even but firm.

"That's old news."

"As of this morning, ten more corporations and two townships in Kansas have folded into their spheres, fifteen last week. Last count: Visitor - twenty-five; Home - nil. Luckily these industries aren't vital to our security, but soon one will be. Then we'd be forced to react."

"You're underplaying Conclave," she suggested.

"What about it?"

"We win Conclave, we turn the tide."

"It's a moot point," Vargas said. "Balkan's death will hurt us. They'll spin his demise as a victim of foul play. This is the result of playing nursemaid to his killer, Your Excellency. Once this gets out -- and it will -- the other fiefs will isolate us as the aggressor. Which means what -- another four years for the PIP . . . You may have sunk our chances."

"I will remind you that I am a Governor Regent in the Midland Superior paramountcy." Her nostrils flared.

Vargas retorted without missing a beat. "If this blows back on us, I will have your full deposition to prepare a defense."

"My defense, whose?"

"Yours, of course."

"I see -- you're pushing for my resignation. Only the Chairmark can demand it. You're a mouthpiece, Vargas. You have no power."

"Oh, no, Your Excellency. You don't get to resign so easily. The hot seat needs a body and you fit so nicely in it."