Plath felt a lead weight pressing down on her heart. Of course her father had expected to be killed. Of course. He had guessed what was coming.

As she could guess at the terror that was coming for her. Will it be death? Or madness?

She closed her eyes, not realizing she’d done so. Silence fell around her as she remembered her father, and that day. Images of the jet screaming down out of the sky …Not what she wanted to remember about her father and brother. Not the images she wanted to hold on to for the rest of her life.

“Maybe he was mentally compromised,” Thrum suggested. “Not competent.”

Plath opened her eyes, and her lips curled into a snarl.

Jellicoe cut in quickly. “He anticipated that line of …reasoning. Attached to the document are affidavits from three board-certified psychiatrists who each examined Grey within a month of his signing of the will.”

Thrum at last exhibited frustration. She threw up one hand. Just one. And said nothing.

Plath noticed Stern smiling, not at her but at some memory. He, too, had been with McLure for a long time, and Grey was a man who made friends for life.

“I don’t want to run the company,” Plath said. “In fact, Ms Thrum, my father always said you were the smartest person on the board, and that if you hadn’t been a woman you’d have been put in charge of your own family’s company.”

Thrum looked surprised, genuinely, this time. And she acknowledged that last point with a curt nod.

“So,” Plath said, “I guess I’m appointing you as president. I’ll ask Mr Jellicoe to work out the financial terms: fair but not extravagant.”

Plath had thought this next part out well in advance.

“But I have certain things I do want,” Plath continued. “I want fifty million dollars—cash—in offshore banks. That’s mine to do with as I see fit.”

Jellicoe and Thrum both nodded warily.

“I want Mr Stern to be my contact with you, Ms Thrum. He was loyal and stayed by me when my family was murdered. Loyalty is important. Isn’t it?”

Thrum, thrown off guard by the question, reddened and stammered, “Yes, I’m sure it is.”

“Mr Stern gets paid twice what’s he’s making now, and although he informs you of all relevant security issues, he works for me.”

That brought a frown to Thrum’s face, but only a frown.

Ah, Plath thought, hiding her emotion, keeping her eyes steady, her mouth straight. Ah, you didn’t see that coming, did you?

Plath stood up. Keats did so as well, a few seconds later.

“Ms Thrum, Mr Jellicoe, Mr Stern. The day may come when I want to take a more active role in the company. I may want to choose additional board members. But right now what I want is for the three of you to treat me with respect, to do what I ask you to—and I don’t intend to ask much—and to take care of my father’s company. Each of you in turn, I’m going to ask that you remain loyal to my father, and to me. Mr Stern?”

“I’m a McLure man,” he said. “Your man.”

“Mr Jellicoe?”

“I’m your lawyer,” he said, and smiled.

“Ms Thrum?”

“I’m in.”

“Okay, then,” Plath said. “My father was a smart and good man, who chose his allies well. I’m not as smart. I’m also not as good. For example, I’m not as forgiving as he was; I hold grudges. I can be a bitch.” She softened that with a slight smile. “And I’m the bitch who owns the company.”

That at last brought an honest smile from Thrum, who actually threw her head back and laughed.

In the elevator on the way down Keats said, “That was absolutely amazing. I mean …you just bossed those people around. You’re no older than I am and you were like a captain of industry. A bloody capitalist.”

Plath nodded. She was distracted and sad and worried. “I could have fired all three of them. They didn’t know what crazy thing I might pull. They were all three relieved.”

“Yeah, but just to stand up there with that total-domination voice, like that.” He sighed. “Hot.”

Plath said nothing. She just stared at Keats.

“What?”

“It was too easy,” she said. “At least one of them is a traitor.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, but he was nervous, eyes flicking back to her, to the floor indicator, then back to her.

Plath shook her head. “If they try to kill us on the way out, then they’re innocent. If not then it’s a setup. It’s Thrum,” she said. “She’s the traitor. Jellicoe could easily have lost the will and substituted another. Stern had plenty of opportunity to kill me off when I was recovering. So it’s Thrum: she’s working for the Twins.”

“I’m pulling out of aneurysm work,” Keats said, buying in. “I can at least keep one eye out for nanobots.”

“If they’re AFGC, they’ll know I’ll be checked at the nano level. This is old school: they’re going to track my money, see where I spend it.” She bit her lip. “I’m not important as a foot soldier for BZRK. I’m only important for what I can reveal. They want my father’s technology, and they want BZRK.”

She wondered how Keats would react. Boys didn’t always like clever girls, and if he said something stupid now, well, at least then love would be off the table. She would never love a dull boy.