" - anyway, thanks for your time," Saturday tells K about five minutes after Stacia leaves the room. She's not an amateur, after all. "Sorry it was a wild goose chase."

He responds with bland platitudes and goes back to his business. Saturday takes her time leaving, stopping to linger at interesting exhibits, staggering her exit with the others. Plausible deniability is very much the name of the game.

About ten, fifteen minutes later, she wanders in to the lounge, having taken a route that dropped by the bathroom and the mess hall. Very ordinary errands, nothing to indicate urgency or concern. Then she flops down into the patchy, overstuffed armchair in the corner of the lounge facing the door and runs a hand through her hair.

"All right, chummer, whatcha got?"