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“No one spotted anything wrong with the pilot’s ID?” Mr Brown stepped closer and studied the corpse. “Interesting. Same modus as they used with Ms Hollister?” He stepped back to gain perspective and looked round. “Have forensics examined her?” “Yes, sir. Confirmed the use of a needle dart. They say it is difficult to put a time of death on her because the killer used a body coolant to drop the temperature and preserve it. One other thing, sir. Someone took a skin peel from her hands, and they made a face mould and took hair from her head.” “Professional then.” Mr Brown paused. “Very well, I’ll talk to the head of forensics. Inform next of kin and prepare a media release.” He ran a check. “If whoever killed her piloted the last shuttle to the surface and used her ID and passed the DNA check, that means the murderer is now on Mars.” Turning to go, he ordered, “Hold the next of kin and media release until I say otherwise. I don’t want anyone to know we’ve found her.””

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Book:First into the Fray
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“Ms Dysson is here, sir.” The Admiral stood to greet her. “Good evening, Ms Dysson. Admiral Burton.” Unrecognisable as Mr Brown in his full uniform and with the facial modifiers removed, the Admiral indicated a chair. “Let’s get right to it, shall we? You’ve been on my radar for some time now, so I think we can be frank with one another.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“She’s on it? And she has the item?” “Yes. She passed through using her own ID, Dysson from Freemantle.” The agent watched his senior. “If she’s playing for the other side, Boss, we can still pick her up at the other end.” “Very likely. More important is what she’s doing for us.” Brown turned. “And if we did stop her we’d have the problem of trying to replace her.” He paused. “Turn the whole place over, make them think we think the chips are still here. Make them think we don’t know who are working for their side.” He scowled. “And make the bloody Pantheon think their people are still here.” For a moment the man stared, his face slowly registering the implications. “The chips she’s carrying are not the plans, are they, sir?” “Max, sometimes the price of keeping something secure and out of the hands of someone who will abuse it is almost too high. They’ve got the plans—but when they try to build it …” He shrugged.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“How’s my guest keeping? Is she showing signs of cracking?” It amused her to know that the men hearing her on the other end of the transmission got nothing but a very mechanical simulation of her voice, a little precaution that kept her identity and voice pattern unrecognisable. “She’s holding out well. A tough cookie, probably ex-services. She knows she’s being watched.” “Good, more fun for later. Fleet Security are searching section by section down there. Make sure your perimeter monitors are functioning properly. I want no slip-ups.” “There won’t be, Leader.” “Make sure of it. I expect Heron will persuade his superiors he should be allowed to accept my terms soon, and I want him captured and shipped. But first I’m looking forward to a little sport with him.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“Neither Felicity nor James Heron paid much attention to the reports. They had other things on their minds. All too soon they would have to part, each to their own roles and duties. Both were aware of this, and both needed to enjoy their last few hours together. Who knew what the future might throw at them? Felicity reached out and shut down the holo display of the broadcast, then she surrendered to his attentions. In a few hours they must part, but now they could live in the moment, and in each other’s arms.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“This is getting beyond a joke now. I have a long list of things that can’t be completed because some vital part is not available. It’s driving my Commanders crazy.” He glanced at Mary. “And they take it out on me!” The Admiral saw the grin. “Ah, I see, so now you want to take it out on me? No way, Captain Heron.” He laughed. “Security think there is something else going on here. None of the suppliers is reporting problems in manufacture, there’s no shortages reported in the raw materials, and there are no reports of any other problems—but they seem unable to meet a third of our requirements. Just enough that we can’t claim breaches of contract.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“James Heron stepped from the personal transport as Herbert, the family’s outmoded android butler, opened the front door of Scrabo Farm. There were infinitely more efficient and newer model android servants available, but neither James Heron nor his sister Niamh L’Estrange would dream of scrapping the mechanical attendant that had served the family so well, and enlivened their childhood with its fussy care of them both. “Hello, Herbert, is my sister home?” Answering in the slightly mechanical voice that James had liked so much when he was a boy, Herbert said, “She is in her study, Captain. I have alerted her to your arrival.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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“They’re into a bit more than assassination,” said the Admiral, aka Mr Brown, “and not all of them are top agents—the ones that use the names of gods and goddesses to identify themselves. Some are called daemons, and they serve as apprentices to the top players. They’ve a large number of people in the mix. Same arrangement. A team of professional killers, safe crackers, explosives—you name it —round each one, and they’re not afraid to sacrifice members for the objective, or to protect the goddess or god heading it. Every time we get close to them we lose people. It’s as if they’re playing with us. We’re pretty sure they’re all very well connected, and some of them indulge in what they call ‘hunting’. Some poor bastard is abducted and dumped somewhere remote without the means to defend himself. Then he or she is hunted by one or more of the Pantheon. They’re psychopaths—but, as I said, they’re very well connected.”

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Book:First into the Fray
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