I never spoke to Bancroft again. The rieedlecast authorisation and re-sleeving bond for Harlan's World were delivered to me by Oumou Prescott who, though she was pleasant enough and assured me that the terms of my contract would be honoured to the letter, also conveyed a smoothly menacing message that I was not to attempt any further communication with any member of the Bancroft family ever again. The reason cited by Prescott was my deceit over the Jack It Up story, the breach of my much-vaunted word, but I knew better. I'd seen it in Bancroft's face across the inquiry chamber when the facts about Miriam's whereabouts and activities during the assault on Head in the Clouds came out. Despite all his urbane Meth bullshit, the old bastard was stabbed through with jealousy. I wondered what he would have done if he'd had to sit through the deleted Hendrix bedroom files.