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Picard was growing more and more interested. So much so, in fact, that he pushed his plate of food aside.

“The fact that Melacronai crime clans place a high value on familial relationships,” Tuvok continued, “and that this younger Bin Nedrach left less than three hours after an assassination, suggests that this may be a worthwhile lead.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And if I may speak frankly, Captain, at the present moment, it is the only lead we have.”

Joseph chuckled, obviously proud of the Vulcan’s deductive abilities. In fact, it seemed to Picard, he couldn’t have been prouder if Tuvok were a longstanding member of the crew.

“What a memory!” said the security chief.

Tuvok glanced at him. “I am a Vulcan, Mr. Joseph. Please do not attribute to skill what is merely the result of genetics.”

“Still,” the chief rejoined, “to remember a name for that long-and to be able to link it to this Bin Nedrach-all I can say, Ensign, is it’s too bad you’re not a security officer. You’d make a damned good one.”

Tuvok appeared to take the compliment in stride. “I will keep that in mind,” he told Joseph.

In the meantime, Picard thought, they had something to go on. It wasn’t a great deal, but it was something.

The captain stroked his chin, mulling over the next step. “Do we know where this Bin Nedrach is now?” he asked.

Joseph shrugged. “We can make a guess, but-“

“I cannot afford to guess,” said Picard. He turned to Crusher and the Vulcan. “Jack, Tuvok-I’m putting you two on this. I want you to go undercover and try to locate Bin Nedrach.”

“And when we find him?” the second officer asked.

The captain shook his head. “Don’t bring him in immediately. One man, even if he is an assassin, could not be doing everything by himself.”

“Someone’s pulling his strings,” Ben Zoma translated.

“That is right,” said Picard. “And that’s the someone I want.”

“Aye, Captain,” Crusher and Tuvok responded at precisely the same time.

The captain saw them glance at each other. They were good men, both of them, he reflected. They would work together just fine, despite the essential differences in their natures.

At least, he hoped so.

“In the meantime,” Picard said, “Commander Ben Zoma and I will continue to monitor the situation on Debennius Two.”

The first officer grunted. “I think Crusher and Tuvok have the easier assignment by far.”

Picard allowed himself a hint of a smile. “We will see about that.” He considered the second officer and the ensign. “Dismissed, gentlemen.” He turned to Simenon, Joseph, Greyhorse and Vigo. “You too.”

He waited until the six of them had left his ready room through the sliding doors. Then he regarded Ben Zoma. “I know what you’re thinking,” he told his exec. “Tuvok seems like the type who works better on his own.”

Ben Zoma dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand. “That may be so, Captain-but we don’t know Tuvok the way we know Jack. We couldn’t very well have sent him out there by himself.”

Picard nodded and pulled his plate closer again. “I suppose not,” he said. And as he sliced another piece of apple for himself, he focused on what lay ahead in the council chamber.

It was midafternoon on Cordra III.

Dar Shabik knew that his face would appear calm and composed if anyone happened to glance in his direction. After all, he had spent many years learning to keep it that way.

Not a twitch of an antenna, nor a dilation of his faceted pupils betrayed him as he hurried through a sea of his fellow Cordracites, looking like any other worker heading home to his family after a long day in the capital city of Kiwanari.

This was the busiest hour. By law, every business shut down at the same time, though opening times were permitted to vary widely. The public transports were always crowded now. No one paid much attention to his fellow commuters. Everyone had one goal-getting home.

Except for Shabik.

He was dressed as the other workers were, in the long black mantlecoat that served a purely decorative function on bodies