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"It was no accident," he declared confidently. "The car deliberately struck that unfortunate woman and injured you. We are treating this as a criminal act." He accepted a cup of coffee from Josepha and sipped, relaxed, as we glanced at each other.

I seemed to be expected to say something. "This is very disturbing news." It could have been worse.

"Indeed." He set down the cup and looked around the table. "We suspect we know why. The target was you, Madame Omotola. Your house helps people escape."

We sat like stones.

"Oh, the government knows this. We have for a long time. And we see no reason to stop you."

Only Ngozi moved, tilting her head, probably using her chip, but he stared at me. I wished he would look away.

"Madame Omotola, your job is counselor and recruiter for the Space Habitat Consortium."

I nodded. I find qualified residents for space stations, colonies on the Moon and Mars, the Venus orbital complex, and sometimes interstellar missions.

"We know you help people escape." He consulted a thought. "You expedite their cases, as far as the rules allow and perhaps a tiny step more." The knowledge gave him a brief smile. "You help at most a half dozen a year, nothing to draw suspicion. Do you know why we don't object?"

He stared. I had to answer. "No, we don't."

"Three reasons." He counted on his thin, nimble fingers. "First, they are in fact all fully qualified. Second, they no longer make trouble here on Earth, which is good for us. We might have to protect them or arrest them. We have less work if they leave Earth. Third, they work very hard in their new homes. They're happy to be there, and everyone else is happy."

He stared at me again. I thought of a fourth reason: off-world recruitment is hard. Refugees solve that problem, too, by being a ready pool of volunteers. But I said nothing.

"And we know what the rest of you do, helping people travel, even getting them new identities. You all do good work, impressive work. So we are concerned with this accident, with an innocent death and with the targeted victim. Who would want to kill you, Madame?"

At that moment, I was staving off panic. I asked my chip to help calm myself. I heard soothing music.

My hesitation seemed to be the right answer.

"Yes," he said. "Many criminals would want to kill you because you spoil their plans. And you take the same route every morning to the Boro Building. You should vary your trip and the time of day. The rest of you, also, take precautions. I will send you standard safety advice." He looked at Ngozi, and they both nodded to acknowledge the sending and receipt. He stood. "Don't worry otherwise. We'll do our best to keep you safe, and we'll place police security monitors around your compound. There was one reckless murder and one attempted murder this morning in Port Harcourt. This is a crime, and no motive can justify it. We'll keep you informed, and we trust that we'll hear from you with the smallest question or any sort of additional information."

He bowed and left us—as if a thunderstorm had whirled through our dining room. Josepha rose to escort him out.

When she returned, Opal said, "They must have suspects." We remained off the networks. Voices might be easily overheard, but networks were guaranteed to be eavesdropped.

"It's no secret who I have helped," I said, "and who might not be happy that I took them from their clutches."

"No, it's more complex than that," Ngozi said. "He doesn't understand how obvious the killing was. And how the record is lying about it. He clearly thinks he knows a lot and that we know less. And to me he had the air of someone who lies out of habit, not strategy. I doubt the government is actually happy with our work. It may even have had a hand in the attempt." She was hard to fool.

Debra, still holding my hand, added, "Our Mercy remains in danger." 

And anyone around her," Opal said, "like that poor woman who was killed."

"What if," Ngozi said, "the attack was aimed at that woman? And if so, why? It's possible we're all mistaken. We should find out more about her."

Opal and Josepha volunteered for the task.

"Another thing," Ngozi said, always thorough in her analysis. "The government now knows we know that they know what we do. Perhaps this will change nothing. Perhaps this will change everything."

We began to discuss possible changes, but exhaustion caught up with me, and soon I went to bed.