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order she was about to join had a vow of absolute poverty. She would have been required to divest, and the only way to divest of something this huge would have beento give it to the Roman Catholic Church. That was motive enough for governments, let alone individuals dependent upon the corporation.
    He punched up details of her injury and found it a baffler. She had all the classic symptoms of a spinal column severed just at the neckline. She had no sensation at all much below the neck, although she had some limited control of her shoulder muscles—but not her hands. However, while there had been some bruising there, there was no sign any of the best medical tests and even exploratory surgery could find of any injury there at all. For a long time they went under the theory that the illness was psychosomatic, but extensive psychiatric investigation and hypno and drug therapy couldn't get at it if it was.
    He quickly punched up the mysterious Pierre Montagne and was surprised to find that one existed. He had been with Sir Robert in Korea, and he had been employed as an office manager in Quebec City. He had also died in an auto accident when she was but two and a half.
    He cleared the screen and closed down, knowing he'd dig more later. Still, he suspected that he already knew what he would find. Sir Robert had had a liaison with the woman, perhaps even loved her. She became pregnant and was almost certainly a good Roman Catholic, so she'd gone through with it, even though she'd probably been warned that she had some condition that made having a child risky and probably fatal. To legitimize the child and make something of her sacrifice he'd married her, probably very late in the pregnancy and in, of course, a Catholic ceremony which would include the pledge that the child be raised Catholic. Sir Robert was a man of the old school to whom giving his word meant quite a bit. Still, he did everything possible to cover it all up, including hauling in Montagne to pose as the child's father and spiriting her away to a remote community.
    Possibly he feared for her safety, but more likely he had to make the choice between continuing to build and shape his worldwide empire or raising the child and he'd chosen, perhaps wrongly, empire. Such men as Sir Robert were not saints; he'd inherited the first hundred million, it was true, but building it up into a multinational conglomerate worth billions was the job for a tough, hard man of flexible morality— particularly considering some of the nations he'd done work for, and the nature of that work. MacDonald could see Sir Robert's thinking, although he found it very disagreeable. In his own odd world, with his own rather odd code, Sir Robert the father could not justify surrogates raising his daughter and being responsible for her—nor could he afford to without possibly having a child more loyal to other interests than his within the company. But as her kindly billionaire "uncle" he could excuse spending whatever he wished on her and also easily explain to auditors and questioners why he had such an interest and attachment to this girl.
    When Montagne, whom he'd trusted and essentially employed from that point to be her father, had died unexpectedly, he was caught in his own prefabricated set-up.
    When he went back upstairs and entered the lounge, he found that some of the party, including Angelique, had gone. Ross was there, however, and came over to him. "Some real tragedy, huh?"
    he noted. "Girl lookin' like that and inherits billions and can't enjoy any of it."
    "Sensitive as usual," MacDonald responded dryly. He looked around. "Where'd everybody go?"
    "It finally caught up with her and she was taken to her room—V.I.P. One, ground floor. You know the one. It also connects to Sir Robert's suite, so if they want to go in and poke around they can. I assume you were down there doing the run-down on her?"
    He nodded. "Yeah, although there's not much even unsealed. I keep feeling that there's