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"I am not available at the moment." "You have other employment?" "That's none of your concern." The businesser sat. "It is if your target is Kiyoshi Owajima, as I've heard. I have reason to want him . . . out of the picture." "Oh?" Nevan remained noncommittal, but allowed himself to show a trace of interest. "I understand he's an Imperial officer a dangerous target.
Mind showing me how it works?" "Not at all, though since you are already aware of me, the effect will not be complete." If that was incomplete, Nevan thought seconds later, Kiyoshi Owajima must be capable of practically turning invisible. He knew the other was there, could see him perfectly well but it was almost impossible to pay any attention to him. "Nice!
Returning to the lounge, he gave Owajima the box holding the weapons. "Here you are, Major. Use them in good health." "I shall, whenever my cover does not prohibit the use of Sandeman weapons. And call me Kiyoshi, please." Owajima smiled. "I think this will be an enjoyable trip, and that by its end we will be friends." "I think so, too. Do you have a family?"
Nevan scowled at that; he hated having to depend on rumor. Doing that tended to get agents killed but unless you worked in the classified section of Personnel Records or knew the agent personally, rumor was all you'd have on one. And in Owajima's case, as in Nevan's own, there wasn't even much rumor. Kiyoshi Owajima concealed a scowl when he finished decoding his informant's message and read it.
He had never used them against people who had done nothing to deserve such treatment, and he didn't really want to. He didn't have any choice, though. He would do whatever proved to be necessary to accomplish his objectives. Three weeks, five planetfalls, and almost 1500 light-years of routine checking later, Nevan discovered his quarry's name: Kiyoshi Owajima.
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