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of black smoke shot out of the back, engulfing the stretch tank.  Marlowe smiled.  He didn’t know where the smoke came from, but he had yet to come up with a reason to fix it.
    “House, pipe in my favorite music.”
    That was code for “Encrypt our connection.”  Using one of the one time cipher pads he’d downloaded before leaving, all additional exchanges with House would now be encoded and masked by music, so any casual electronic eavesdropper would think Marlowe was just listening to his favorite tunes.
    “Our conversation is now private,” said House.
    “Thank you.”  Marlowe programmed the Studebaker for City Hall and leaned back as the car pulled into the street.  Gwen and Artemis followed close behind.
    “Any ideas what this summons is about?”
    “I’m working on that.  As soon as the call came in, I checked comm traffic coming into and going out of the Governor’s office.  Not the usual moderate morning traffic, but extremely heavy volume among City Hall, the Civic Defense Guard, and the Ministry of Policing.  All using high level encryption.”
    “Uh oh.  I smell Obedere.”
    “No doubt you will have another encounter with him.”
    “Well nuts to that.”
    Obedere was the Chief Minister of Policing.  A power hungry authoritarian, he ran the City Constabulary with a fist almost as tight as the Governor’s grip on the City administration.  Marlowe’s brother had only reluctantly installed Obedere in the Ministry of Policing, and Marlowe himself had suffered more than a few unpleasant run-ins with the man.  If Obedere was involved, not just Marlowe’s life was in danger, but quite possibly his brother’s too.
    “Why the Civic Defense Guard?”
    “I haven’t been able to ascertain that as yet.  They’re being very careful on this one.  However, I have noticed a very peculiar correlation.  While I may not be able to tap into the messages themselves, I can study the traffic patterns.  I slipped into the City Switchboard server and perused the logs.  They didn’t switch over to the heavy duty encryption until shortly after a seismic disturbance which had its epicenter at the collective farms on the outskirts of the City.  News vid reports of an earthquake started going out on the wire two minutes before the frantic messaging commenced.”
    Marlowe leaned his head against the window.  The Studebaker had just pulled onto one of the main arteries in the southern district of the City.  Sleeker, newer cars zipped past on both sides.  All part of the economic stimulus laws.  Every year, each citizen had to buy a car.  Every third year that car had to be brand new.  It kept the auto factories running around the clock, the financial institutions in the black, the used car lots hopping, and unemployment low.  Even the recycling yards were doing a booming business, melting down old cars so they could be made into new ones.  Marlowe, by promising to keep his family ties quiet, had managed to finagle one of the rare exemptions to the annual purchasing requirement.
    “And I have just discovered that four Civic Defense Guard jets were scrambled six minutes after the seismic event.”
    Marlowe grunted at this revelation, still watching the cars go by.  Each car that passed offered him a glimpse into a completely different life.  A life that could have been his, maybe, if he had made different decisions.  A happy couple napping head to head, a businesswoman reading a newspaper, a suited businessman shaving his lantern jaw, a mom yelling at her two cowering kids.  All enshrouded in the Plexiglass and plastisteel housings of their automobiles, all oblivious to the outside world around them.  
    “An earthquake at a farm causing all of this?  No, it can’t be that simple.  Something else must have happened at that farm.  Ideas?”
    “I have a number of ideas, ranging from the somewhat plausible to drug-induced fantasy.”
    A brand new Zest minivan swept across three lanes of