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Gwen finished her steak. Ah, just right. Very faint touch of garlic, and slightly bloody in the
middle. She remembered crouching over an elk in a winter storm . . . was it only three years ago, on her
personal world-line? Cutting away at the flesh with her obsidian knife, breaking joints with a swift blow of
her fist. The hot salt taste of the blood, and strength flowing back into her shivering body as the calories
translated into warmth. It had taken her four days to strip the carcass bare; the wolves had shown up on
the second, and provided her with a couple of warm furs. This was just as challenging, in its way.
"Our objectives are simple," she said. "Money, a great deal of money, and the power that goes with
it." She held up a hand. "Nothing illegitimate. You'll have checked out our contacts with American
businesses."
"Yes." Andrews nodded. "You seem to be concentrating on those."
"It's the only game in town," she replied. "Europe's too tightly tied up by established players, and
besides, it's too close to the Middle East, and these days . . ." She shrugged. "Asia is xenophobic, and China
is stirring that pot too enthusiastically. There are mutual interests."
Andrews moved in smoothly. "Mutual interests require mutual benefits," he said.
"Why, hasn't the United States benefited from IngolfTech's cooperative ventures?" she asked
mildly, raising her eyebrows. She also raised a hand, and began to tick off points. "There's the ultradense
memory chip we did with Texas Instruments, there's the oil-eating bacteria we're bringing forward with
Exxon—if your FDA ever gets off its fat arse—there's the holographic projector . . ."
"Granted. However."
Gwen nodded. Your government—more particularly your agency within that government—
would like some things it could control personally.
It was startling how similar drakensis and human were, in some respects. Factionalism, for
instance.
"I understand completely. On the other hand, a cooperative attitude on the part of your government
would help immensely, particularly since IngolfTech is planning to move more and more onshore."
She leaned back, nibbling on a pastry, and made a small gesture with her free hand. Tom put his
attache case on the table and snapped it open. With an understated flourish he produced a neatly bound
folder.
"A token of our sincerity," she said. "Take a look."
Andrews did, with Debrowski leaning over his shoulder. After a moment he grunted, a sound that
almost turned into a squeal.
"Is this serious?" he asked.
"Entirely. You'll find complete drawings and process data in the disks enclosed at the back. The
hardcopy is an outline of the product and its applications."
"But nobody's been able to get a superconductor to operate at room temperature—"
"—and this operates up to the ferromagnetic transition temperatures at several hundred degrees,
yes. Take a look at the energy densities, by the way."
Primitive stuff, invented about the time she was born, or a little earlier. Still, it would give this world
some things it sadly lacked: a moderately efficient way to store electrical energy, for starters.
"For instance, besides transmission lines, you could use this to power electric vehicles with ranges
of thousands of miles, and recharge times measured in seconds or minutes. The increased energy
efficiencies would make the U.S. completely independent of imported oil. Superconductors could be used as
replacements for capacitors, for applications needing surge power."
The agents twitched again, imperceptibly. Surge output was useful for many things; most
importantly, lasers and other beam weapons.
Andrews was breathing hard as he read. Gwen amused herself with a daydream of exactly how
she'd take him when the time came for the masks to come off. I'll let him run, she thought. The scent of
his terror would be intoxicating. Then leap on him. He'd take a moment to realize just how helpless he was
in her hands. Then—
All five of the humans and some of the ones at the nearer tables were reacting to her; her own
three knew exactly what was happening to them, which made it harder for them to resist. She clamped
down on the secretions. Tsk. Keep your mind on business. Besides which, it would be a shame to mark
this dress.
Andrews looked up, his face damp with sweat; the lust was there, but directed at the folder in front
of him—at the conscious level, at least.
"I thought you were mostly in biotechnology," he said shakily.
"Yes, but this is rather more immediate. With that data you could begin large-scale production
immediately. At that secret little black-program place you have out in the California desert, for instance."
Debrowski looked up at her sharply. "You know about that?"
"What a lynx you are, Mr. Debrowski," Gwen said dryly. "Nothing gets past you."
Gwen smiled back with bland amiability at his frown, dabbing whipped cream on a kiwi tart and
eating it. The smooth-bland-buttery combination of flavors made her close her eyes for a moment of pure
pleasure. To complement it she kicked off one of her sandals under the protecting cover of the tablecloth
and slid the foot between Dolores's knees. They opened immediately, though the Colombian's face
remained a study in concentration as she bent over the notebook computer beside her plate. Gwen stroked
the velvety softness of the other's inner thighs while she turned her face to the Americans. It must be
terrible to be a human, sense-blind to three quarters of existence, noticing nothing.
"And the quid pro quo?" Andrews asked.
"Simply . . . protection. Let it be known in the appropriate circles that IngolfTech stands well with
the government."
"And in return, we get a monopoly?"
Gwen laughed. "I have no intention of selling you the cow," she said. "We will let you milk it, but the
beast itself stays beyond your reach."
Andrews looked down again at the folder with its laser-printed text and colored graphs. "This sort
of thing can't fall into the wrong hands," he said.
"Exactly," Gwen said. "If IngolfTech released that, the whole world would be in an uproar."
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