Logically, if Charlotte Fielder wasn't in the gondola, and Greg and Suzi were heading up into the fuselage, then Charlotte Fielder must be in the fuselage too. Somewhere.
Julia reviewed the airship structural schematic again.
Behind the last full-sized gasbag there was an engineering bay that held the giga-conductor cells, and heat exchangers.
In the centre was a disused chamber that used to hold the MHD units. It was drawing power from the main electrical bus.
She plugged into the chamber's fibre-optic cables.
Internal camera, upper gondola deck cabin, provisionally assigned resident: Charlotte Fielder. The four tekmercs were inside. One of them walked through the wooden slat door to the bathroom, snapping it apart without breaking stride. Three had his rip gun trained on the steward who was hugging his chest, jaw clenched.
"Where else would she be?" the tekmerc asked. He prodded the steward with the barrel of his rip gun. The man's cheeks bulged out.
"Pool, she used the swimming-pool a lot, or Fabian's den. He's always up there."
"I've got the pool location loaded in my suit gear, but which room is the boy's den?"
"Not in the gondola," the steward said. "It's up in the fuselage, right back at the tail. Some sort of old engine room, he plays his music deck-up there, stuff like that."
Tekmerc squad inter-suit radio communication.
Frank: "Leol, I think we may have her. The Whitehurst boy hangs out up in the fuselage tail, he's got some sort of den up there. We're going up to check the pool first, then we'll try the tail. It must be in the engineering bay."
Leo Reiger: "OK, I'm putting the squeeze on the old man. Let me know the instant you get anything."
Frank: "What if we meet the psychic? He must know where Fielder is, he and Suzi will be heading for her now."
Leol Reiger: "Snuff the psychic bloke, Mandel, but save Suzi bitch for me."
Frank: "Christ, Leol, I don't know, that woman, she's one major hazard. I see what she did to Nathe and Joely back at the Prezda. Two shots, that's all it took her. Catching her, that's maybe not such a good idea. It's complicated, Leol. We don't need it."
Leol Reiger: "Give the flicking verbals a rest. You got armour. You got stunshots for the Fielder whore, ain't you? Use 'em. Triple bonus for the one that wings Suzi bitch for me."
Frank: "All right, Leol. You say."
Leol Reiger: "I do."
Internal camera, aft fuselage keel walkway. Greg and Suzi were approaching the tail section, moving at a steady jog. He seemed to be recovering from his gland-induced lethargy, limbs flowing in an easier, more fluid rhythm.
Julia used a key on a nearby transverse frame to plug into Greg's cybofax. It bleeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
"I wondered where you'd got to," he said.
Suzi stopped and looked at the cybofax screen.
"I take it you're trying to find Charlotte Fielder," Julia said.
"Yeah, she's somewhere around here. I sensed her earlier, I was just about to have another sniff round."
"I believe she is in the old MHD chamber, along with Fabian Whitehurst. It's in the middle of the engineering bay; I worked out a route for you." She squirted the data into the wafer, lining the walkways and ladders they would have to use in red. "You'd better get a move on. There is a woman in front of you, Nia Korovilla, one of the Colonel Maitland's maids; I don't know what she's doing there, but she's closing on the chamber. And four of Leol Reiger's tekmercs are behind you, also heading for the MHD chamber."
"Oh, great," said Suzi.
"Once you get Fielder, I can keep you ahead of the tekmercs," Julia said. "I have them all under observation."
"Thanks, Julia," Greg said. "We're on our way."
Internal camera, study. Both of Jason Whitehurst's hardline bodyguards were dead. They lay on the floor, bodies torn open by rip-gun bolts, blood pooling around them. The maid Leol Reiger had hauled along had gone into catatonic shock, curled up against the settee in a foetal position, eyes squeezed shut.
Leol Reiger hadn't even bothered to use the door. There was a big rent in the wall, its craggy edges bent inward. He was standing in front of the desk, the four accompanying members of his squad fanned out behind him.
Jason Whitehurst still clung to an air of pride, defeated but not broken.
"Call your son, and have him tell us where Fielder is," Leol Reiger's amplified voice said. "That's all we want, Fielder. We get her, we leave. No more hazard to you and your crew."
"And the alternative?" Jason Whitehurst asked. "Aren't you going to threaten me?"
"Why? You already know the way it is. Snuff you, your crew, this ship. Your son. Especially your son."
Jason Whitehurst glared at the armoured figure. "I had agreed a price with your paymaster."
Leol Reiger took a pace forward. "I would hate to think you were stalling."
Julia decided to intervene. She plugged into the study's flatscreens, using an image-synthesizer program to reproduce her face. The camera showed five of her suddenly looking down on the scene, another face encased inside the desk.
"Jason isn't stalling," she said out of the speakers.
Rip guns came up in alarm, the tekmercs turning in jerky agitated movements.
"Jesus, that's Julia Evans," one of them stuttered.
"Oh yeah? Big deal," Leol Reiger said. He tried for contempt, but the mikes detected a quaver in his voice.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Leol Reiger," she said.
"How the hell—What is this?" He levelled his rip gun on Jason Whitehurst.
There was the glimmer of a smile on Jason Whitehurst's lips, mocking. "As I have met my match, so you have met yours."
"Charlotte Fielder belongs to me, Leol Reiger," Julia said. "My team is on its way here to collect her. If you leave now, they will not pursue you."
"Bluff," Leol Reiger said. "If they were coming you wouldn't try and make deals."
"How do you think I'm talking to you? Event Horizon technology is capable of slicing straight through the Messerschmitt's jammer, and that is premier-grade military equipment. And I'll remind you that you're talking to a woman who's got her own stockpile of electron-compression warheads. Think about that."
"Hot technology, my arse; I'll bet it's not as good as atomic structuring, I'll bet it doesn't even come close. Right?"
"Irrelevant. Atomic structuring is for the future, you are facing me now."
"I'm facing a flatscreen. We're here, you're not. Fielder's mine. So fuck off, rich bitch."
"Mistake," Jason Whitehurst said gravely. "That, my friend, was a big mistake. Nobody says that to Julia Evans."
"Yeah? Well, I ain't been zapped by a lightning bolt. So now I'll take Fielder. Where is she?"
"Jason doesn't know," Julia said. "Nor will he be able to find out. My security programmers are in full control of the Colonel Maitland's 'ware."
"Leol," one of the other tekmercs said, a woman's voice. "Maybe we oughta listen—"
"Shut it." Leol Reiger pointed his rip gun at one of the big wall screens, and fired. The flatscreen shattered, radiant pink fragments bouncing across the hard silver-white floor. Jason Whitehurst hunched down in his chair, hands over his ears. Leol Reiger swivelled to another flatscreen, fired again. Daylight shone through a hole the rip-gun bolt drilled into the gondola wall.
"You really are a complete fool, aren't you," Julia said.
Leol Reiger demolished a third screen. He turned back to Jason Whitehurst, the muzzle of the rip gun coming down on the desk with a click. "Time's up. Make your choice. Do you think the rich bitch is gonna save you, or you gonna hand Fielder over to me?"
Jason Whitehurst stood slowly, squaring his shoulders, looking directly at Leol Reiger's smooth armour helmet. The rip gun followed him up.