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small black box on the table. "I'm looking for a fully bi-directional neural interface to communicate with this hub."
    Bern slowly reached forward and picked it up. "What is it designed to control? A vehicle? A weapon system?"
    Leskov smiled. He snapped his fingers. Three of the large men moved and began cutting cords connected to the dust sheets, which slid away to reveal a sleek black-grey helicopter. "It's not officially in production."
    "How many passengers does it carry?"
    Leskov followed him to stand next to one of the side doors. "Up to ten. But it's more comfortable for six."
    "And why do you need a neural interface for this?"
    "Because it is no ordinary helicopter. We're going to market it as a security vehicle for high-net-worth individuals. The weapon systems are a discretionary extra. But it is fully stealth capable, has active and passive radar, and a range of other sensor equipment, plus sophisticated autopilot and threat evasion systems and six ejector seats."
    "Not ten?"
    Leskov flashed a smile. "Like I said, it's more comfortable for six."
    Bern tapped the door of the helicopter. "How much did this cost?"
    "Close to two hundred million US dollars. We expect the unit price to fall once we enter production," he paused, "but not by much. It's not really a vehicle for those who have to ask about the price tag."
    "So it's fully featured. Why the need for an interface? Considering the cost."
    Leskov raised an eyebrow.  
    "If I don't know why you need it, I won't be able to build it."
    "It takes a crew of three to fly it to full capability and those three pilots need extensive training. It's a logistical nightmare finding one suitably discrete pilot, but three? We need to reduce the number."
    "To one?"
    Leskov smiled. "To zero." He paused. "At least on-board. With your interface a single pilot could fly the craft and operate all systems – and do it all from another location entirely."
    "So it would be a passenger-carrying drone?"
    "I don't like that term. It makes my clients nervous. We're talking about a system whereby the pilot is on-board – just not physically. The sensor cluster would be his eyes and ears."
    "So you already understand how the interface would work. You know it wouldn't just be a headset you wear."
    Leskov nodded. "We like it because it will exercise a degree of control over the subject. Those we select as pilots aren't going to be running off to a competitor."
    "Just what has Bradley shared with you?"
    "His conversation was frank. Knowing the financial state of your business, is this not a time to be frank?"
    "I suppose it is. You have the full schematics for the aircraft?"
    "Ready for you to take with you. Presuming you can meet the timetable."
    "That depends."
    Leskov looked at Bern carefully. "I didn't expect to find you so cautious. Perhaps you'd prefer to stick with a project with less personal risk."
    Bern smiled. "I'm not cautious, Mr Leskov. I'm negotiating." He paused. "And the higher the price, the less cautious I will become."
    "Ah. That I understand. Although in this case I am going to tell you what I will pay, and you can take it or leave it." He smiled. "My offer is one billion US dollars. For that I expect a demonstrably viable candidate. And full schematics, source code and nanite production equipment. In the next sixty days."
    Bern closed his eyes, counting slowly to ten. As if there was any decision to make. He opened his eyes and extended his hand. "We have a deal, Mr Leskov."

THIRTEEN

    THE PRIVATE AMBULANCE GLIDED SMOOTHLY up the bush-lined red-sealed private road, then slowed as it approached a large building that looked like a cluster of period houses squashed together. It pulled up under a huge shelter that extended over the road, and Tom's wheelchair was lowered out. Two smiling nurses appeared to greet him then wheeled him inside and along several corridors. The place seemed deserted. Eventually they left him in a large first-floor room with an expansive view across