I took out the key which the clerk had given me and carefully slid it into the lock, trying not to make a sound. I really didn't think anything would happen here. The Damakoi wouldn't set off the bomb this far away from the Grand Capitol; fanatics don't waste their lives on nobodies like me—not when they're out after much bigger game.
The key engaged, and as the door slid open, I stepped inside, my blaster held at the ready.
The room was empty.
The bed was made, the ash-trays were clean, the windows were closed. Zorvash Pedrik might have registered for the room, but he hadn't spent much time in it.
He was on the loose—somewhere in the city—carrying around something which could kill everyone in the Grand Capitol if it were set off.
"No sign of him," said Holdreth Khain.
"Doesn't look that way." Then I spotted something. "Hold it—what's that?"
I crossed the room to the writing desk that stood against the far wall. There was a small box on it and it was weighting down a piece of paper.
I pulled out the piece of paper. It was a note—addressed to me.
Dear Cameron, it said, in the clear script of a voice-writer, There's no point in your looking for me here, because I'm not going to wait here for you to catch me. Be sure that I'll be able to complete my mission here despite the efforts of your department and the treachery of my misguided countryman.