Tears were rolling down Gillian’s face. “But you killed him, right?”

  “No,” Anderson answered. “We didn’t. I didn’t. But I could have and I should have. And for that I apologize.”

  But you shot me in both legs, Leng thought bitterly. And you will pay.

  “Remember,” Kahlee cautioned. “The assassin was a tool. The Illusive Man is the real killer.”

  Gillian wiped the tears away. “Then I need to find him. Where is he?”

  “Nobody knows,” Anderson said, “unless Hal can tell us. How ’bout it? Did the Illusive Man have a hidey-hole? A place to run to?”

  McCann shook his head. “You know where I’ve been … Besides, that sort of information was way above my pay grade.”

  “Then we’ve got to focus on finding him,” Gillian said as her chin quivered. “Then I’ll kill him.”

  “That isn’t realistic,” Anderson said. “He’s very well protected. And as important as destroying Cerberus is, there’s something even more urgent to work on. And that’s the need to stop the Reapers. The problem is the Council believes the threat has been dealt with. Maybe they should hear from Hal here.”

  McCann looked very uncomfortable but never got the chance to respond because Gillian was on her feet by then. “No! The Illusive Man is responsible for my father’s death and I’m going to find him.”

  “Wait,” Hendel said. “Let’s talk about this.”

  But it was too late. Gillian was on her way out by then. Hendel stood as if to follow her but Kahlee held up a hand. “Let her go. She’s upset and for good reason. Later, after she walks it off, she’ll listen to reason.”

  That suggestion was followed by an uncomfortable silence that McCann broke by getting to his feet. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave now.”

  Kahlee frowned. “He works for Cerberus. Maybe we should call C-Sec.”

  “And then what?” Hendel asked cynically. “The only proof we have is what McCann told us. And what’s to keep him from changing his story?”

  “What indeed?” Leng said out loud, as McCann made for the front door. “What indeed?”

  SOMEWHERE IN THE CRESCENT NEBULA

  The Illusive Man watched as a pale moon parted company with the jagged horizon and began another arc across the star-dusted sky. The satellite had been captured by the planet’s gravitational pull millions of years earlier and been held prisoner ever since. The relationship was, he thought, somewhat analogous to the situation confronting the human race. They too had been forced to orbit something larger, in this case a galaxy-spanning society they couldn’t control yet were increasingly affected by. So much so that he was beginning to wonder if the Systems Alliance, the organization that represented all of the human colonies in Citadel space, was truly human anymore.

  The process of integration was often held up as a virtue. But the price for integration was compromise—thousands of small, seemingly innocuous concessions, agreements, and “understandings” that combined to erode humanity’s independence. And that was what made the situation so urgent. If Cerberus failed to act quickly enough the very thing it was created to save would be subsumed.

  The Illusive Man’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tone. He swiveled to the right and the image of a heavily disguised Kai Leng blossomed in front of him. The background was out of focus. “I have a surprise for you.”

  The Illusive Man selected a cigarette from the case. “What kind of surprise?”

  “Hal McCann is alive.”

  The Illusive Man lit the tube of tobacco and took the smoke deep into his lungs. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. He showed up on the Citadel along with Grayson’s daughter and the ex-security chief from the Grissom Academy. They met with David Anderson and Kahlee Sanders. I have all of it on a chip.”

  “Play it.” The Illusive Man considered a dozen scenarios as he watched Gillian, McCann, and the rest of them interact. His mind was made up by the time the playback was over. “Unfortunately McCann has a self-admitted gambling addiction. It’s just a matter of time before he gets into some sort of trouble. At that point he may or may not surface in front of the Council. They could use him to discredit Cerberus.”

  A brief moment of silence ensued. There was no discernible expression on Leng’s face. But the Illusive Man had known the operative for a long time by then and recognized the slight tightness around Leng’s eyes and a certain rigidity to the way he held his head. “You were friends as I recall … Should I have someone else handle the sanction?”

  “We had drinks together a couple of times. And played cards on the station. ‘Friends’ is too strong a word.”

  The Illusive Man blew a stream of smoke out toward the holo. The picture shivered. “So you’re willing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That brings us to Grayson’s daughter Gillian. On the one hand she seems like a somewhat overwrought teenager who is mourning her father. As such she deserves our patience and understanding.

  “However,” the Illusive Man continued as he tapped some ash into a tray, “passion is a very dangerous thing. Take your case for example. The Alliance arrested you for killing a krogan in a bar fight. A krogan for god’s sake … With a knife. They should have given you a medal. Instead they sent you off to prison. And the injustice of that made you so passionate about the human cause that you were transformed from the equivalent of raw ore into a finished blade. So in considering Gillian’s fate it’s important to look beyond what she is to what she might become. And that is someone dangerous.”

  “Understood.”

  “So,” the Illusive Man said, “enough about McCann and the girl. You were given a task.… Where is Grayson’s body?”

  A less confident operative might have flinched or offered a host of excuses. But not Leng. “I don’t have control of it yet.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  “I’ll work on it.”

  “See that you do. So long as the Council has custody of the body they can use it against us. Difficult days lay ahead. Our credibility will be important. And Kai …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m told that you’re using a cane. Take care of that leg.”

  The holo collapsed and the Illusive Man smiled grimly. The closing comment had been calculated to let Leng know that even he was subject to surveillance and to demonstrate that the head of Cerberus valued him. Because it is, the Illusive Man thought to himself, important to be human.

  For the first time in her life Gillian felt free. Because for as long as she could remember she had been a captive. First of the Grissom Academy then of the quarian fleet. Now, having walked out on her minders she could do whatever she wanted. Even if Hendel and Kahlee disagreed with it.

  But they weren’t entirely wrong. Gillian knew that. The Illusive Man would be well protected. Just as they said he would be. But that was a problem which could be solved by taking her already considerable biotic powers and enhancing them further. It would take money of course, and fortunately Gillian had some. There was a large safe in the batarian slave ship. And after two failed attempts she’d been able to hack it, thereby gaining access to a stash of Beryllium slugs. Each of them weighed about one hundred grams and was worth a thousand credits. Most of the find was apportioned out to the Idenna’s crew, including Gillian, and the rest had been given to the freed slaves.

  Gillian’s first task therefore was to choose a supplier. A first-rate manufacturer with the resources to amp her overall effectiveness by at least ten percent. With nowhere else to go she checked into a boxtel. It was noisier than she preferred, but finally began to quiet down around 1:00 a.m., allowing her to fall asleep.

  When morning came, and she awoke, it was to a renewed sense of purpose. Gillian took a shower, left the boxtel, and ate breakfast in a small cafe. From there it was onto a public shuttle and off to visit the high-rise building where the asari-sponsored Armali Council was quartered. The council represented a number of manufacturing guilds, one of which was dedicated to making and installing what many considered to be the finest biotic implants available in the galaxy.

  Having exited the shuttle Gillian walked a short distance to the building and paused to look up. The structure was hundreds of feet tall and looked like a cluster of crystal shafts. They were of various lengths and joined together at the center.

  The high-rise made Gillian feel small. But she gathered her courage, made her way up a flight of stairs, and followed a turian inside. The lobby was huge. An asari stood behind a slightly curved reception counter. Gillian thought of herself as homely and wondered what it was like to be so beautiful. The receptionist smiled politely. “Can I help you?”

  “I would like to talk to a member of the Biotics Guild about acquiring some new implants.”

  The expression on the asari’s face changed fractionally as if she was looking at Gillian in a new light. “Of course. Please proceed to the twelfth floor. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

  An elevator carried Gillian and half a dozen other people up past transparent offices to the twelfth floor. An asari in a sleek ankle-length lab coat was waiting to greet her. “Welcome to the Biotics Guild. My name is Nomi E’Lan. And you are?”

  “Gillian Grayson.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand that you’re interested in acquiring an upgrade. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you are a level?”

  “Three.”

  “Excellent. Please follow me. The first step is to take readings on the implants you have now.”

  That made sense so Gillian allowed herself to be steered down a hall and into a well-equipped lab. “Please step behind the screen and remove your clothes,” E’Lan said. “Then I’d like you to lay facedown on the table.”

  Like most biotics Gillian had a port in the back of her neck that could be used to access the tiny amplifiers that were located throughout her nervous system. They functioned to create the mass effect fields that enabled Gillian to manipulate dark energy. And some implants were better than others. So it wasn’t unusual for biotics to buy upgrades when they could afford to do so.

  Once on the table, with her hair pulled to one side, Gillian gritted her teeth as a probe was inserted into her neck port. There was a brief moment of pain, followed by a tingling sensation, and some involuntary muscle contractions as electronic impulses were sent to various parts of her body. Then E’Lan pressed small paddles against the points where implants had been inserted so that a computer could measure the amount of resistance in between them. The diagnostic process continued for about five minutes before the needlelike instrument was withdrawn from Gillian’s neck port. “Okay,” E’Lan said, “you can get dressed now. I have what I need. Thank you.”

  Gillian stepped behind the screen where she buckled the belt containing the Beryllium slugs around her waist before putting her clothes back on. “So,” Gillian said as she emerged, “what do you think?”

  E’Lan was standing in front of a podium-style terminal eyeing the data that scrolled in front of her. “It looks like you’re equipped with solid Level Four implants complete with virtual intelligence chips. It’s a good setup, better than average actually, but we can improve on it.”

  “By how much?”

  “I think you could expect a ten percent or better increase in power—along with an equivalent improvement where duration is concerned. But I’ll be able to give you a better idea after we receive a technical download from the facility where your amps were installed.”

  Gillian frowned. Would the academy cooperate? And if so, how much time would the process consume? “How long will that take?”

  “Oh, a couple of weeks should do it,” E’Lan said breezily. “Then we’ll put you on the schedule for an upgrade.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gillian said tightly. “I need the amps now. Today.”

  It wasn’t clear how they had been summoned, but suddenly two additional asari entered the room, and they were dressed in matching suits of light armor. And even though nothing had been said Gillian sensed that they were biotics. Powerful biotics. E’Lan smiled gently. “Then I’m afraid we won’t be able to help you. We require a full workup before we can perform an upgrade. The ethical guidelines we adhere to are very clear in that regard.”

  Gillian was down on the street ten minutes later. She was very disappointed. But not about to give up. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” That’s what Hendel liked to say. And Gillian would find the way.

  Kai Leng was going to kill both Gillian Grayson and Hal McCann—but had chosen to kill the ex-Cerberus employee first. Because McCann could leave the Citadel at any time and Leng figured the teenager would stick around for a while.

  Then, once both sanctions were completed, Leng would go to work on retrieving Grayson’s body. A much more difficult task since it was being held in the biological evidence section of C-Sec’s Forensic Lab. A reality that the Illusive Man wasn’t aware of or didn’t care about. Not that it mattered because Leng took pride in solving such problems.

  So as darkness settled over the Citadel, and most of the population went to their various homes, what Leng thought of as the night people began to take over. Some, like Leng, were predators. And some, like McCann, were prey. And finding them, especially on such a huge space station, would require patience.

  Still, on most planets the wild game could be depended upon to visit a watering hole come sundown, which in this case meant a bar or club. The problem was that there were hundreds if not thousands of such establishments on the Citadel.

  But as Leng left his apartment, and went down to the street, he had a pretty good idea of how to narrow the possibilities. McCann was an inveterate gambler. As such, he was likely to favor those establishments that offered games of chance as well as alcohol.

  The first place on Leng’s list was a club called Flux. It was easy to reach from the upper wards and was located near the markets. A cane was a sign of weakness. So Leng left it at home. Each step produced a twinge of pain. But a limp could attract the wrong sort of attention too—so he forced himself to walk normally.

  Leng knew where he was going but stopped to consult a public terminal so he could check his six. It was silly. He knew that. But the comment about the cane had wormed its way into his head. Just as the Illusive Man had intended.

  What made the situation so ridiculous was the fact that spotting the individual assigned to watch him wouldn’t make any difference. He would still do what he had been assigned to do the way he planned to do it. But the fact that he could be watched without detecting the person carrying out the surveillance was not only an affront to his pride but dangerous, because Cerberus had enemies. Lots of them.

  The effort was to no avail. Either the Illusive Man’s operative was very, very good or had the night off. So Leng followed a steady stream of people toward the markets before taking the turn that led him to the Flux. It was a relatively new nightclub with a bar and dance floor on the main level and a casino on the mezzanine.

  The music was loud, the place was packed with young professionals, and, as Leng entered the bar area, there was no sign of McCann. But that wasn’t too surprising, because if the ex-Cerberus employee was present, he would probably be one level up. Still, it paid to be careful, so Leng checked the men’s room before climbing the stairs to the casino.

  It wasn’t as crowded as the first floor, but was still doing a respectable business, judging from the fact that most of the tables were in use. At this point more stealth was called for because Leng had no way to know how McCann would react to the sudden arrival of a Cerberus operative. Would it be a case of hail-fellow-well-met? Or would the life support tech bolt?

  Leng had left all of the Forbes identity back at the apartment, including the peel-off face that made him look fifteen years older than he actually was. But he couldn’t wander around looking like himself, not if he planned to kill someone, so he was wearing a second disguise. One that had the effect of pushing his hairline back, flattening his nose, and emphasizing his cheekbones. It was a tough-looking face and appropriate for hanging out in bars. It was also attractive, to some women anyway, and it wasn’t long before Leng felt someone touch his arm. “Hi, honey, it’s good to see you again.”

  They had never met, and both of them knew it, but Leng played along. “You too … I like your dress. What there is of it.”

  The woman’s hair was an unlikely shade of green and she was wearing a dress that consisted of two tubes of elastic cloth. One hugged her breasts and the other covered her hips. The fabric sparkled as light hit it. The compliment produced a smile. “Less is more.”

  “How true … Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Yes, please. A Nova would be nice.”

  Leng left her standing next to a waist-high table and went over to the casino’s bar. Then, as the bartender came over to serve him, he activated the omni-tool. The picture of McCann was ready. “Have you seen my buddy? We were supposed to meet up here.”

  The volus shook his head. “I’ve had no contact with that individual.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll have a Nova and a shot of sake. Honzo if you have it.”

  Armed with the drinks Leng returned to the table. The woman’s name was Marcy, and he let her natter on about her job as a hairdresser for a while, before punching up the picture of McCann. “This guy owes me two hundred credits. Have you seen him? He likes to gamble—so he might visit the casino from time to time.”

  Marcy looked at the picture and shook her head. “No, I haven’t.” When she looked up at him Leng realized that her eyes matched her hair. “What will you do to him?”