the general until the worst possible moment. He says that if Napoleon had ever learned not to grandstand, we’d all be speaking French right now.”
“The benefits of a continental education,” Dev said, standing up.
Someone tapped on the door. Jim touched his desk. The door slid open.
Helga was standing there. “Jim, I didn’t want to disturb you while you were with Dev—”
“It’s okay, Helga,” Dev said. “We’re done.”
She nodded. “I had a call from Alain over in Tau’s office. He says, ‘Tell them the second wave has started.’ ”
Dev gulped. Jim nodded, got up, pulled the napkin out of his collar. “Are the Bloomberg people ready for me?”
“They were late getting in, but they’re down in the suite and they’ll be ready in five minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Helga vanished. Jim and Dev headed for the door. “So just remember,” Jim said, “it’s all under control. We’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is act normal. Okay?”
Dev nodded. Jim patted him on the shoulder and turned right, heading for the teleconferencing suite and singing softly under his breath, “We’ll meet againnnn . . . don’t know where, don’t know whennnn. . . .”
Dev gulped again and headed for the stairs.
ELEVEN
DEV HEADED OUT ACROSS THE CAMPUS on the bike feeling strangely hollow inside, like someone who’d been to the doctor and told that he had cancer . . . and then in the next breath had been told that there was nothing he could do, but also not to worry.
It was useless. But the least I can do, he thought as he rode, is keep myself under control while they fight my fight. First things first—
He rode back to Castle Dev and parked the black bike in the last spot at the end of the rack. There were now twice as many bikes on site as there had been when he’d left, scattered on the lawn, parked on the pathway, and leaning against the inside of the arch. People were heading in and out at speed, too busy even to talk to him—which was alarming by itself. Never mind, he thought. Too much to do today. Get a grip and let’s get on with it.
Dev headed upstairs to the living wing first. Once in the sitting room area, he made for the little freezer next to the coffee bar. “Miri?” he said.
No answer: she was out and about on her own schedule now. Dev sighed and opened the freezer. Sure enough, there on top of one of the ice cube trays was a waffle bowl of double chocolate chip ice cream, the contents slumped into a half-melted puddle. He got it out, hunted around the cupboards for a napkin and a plate, shoved the plate and bowl into the microwave, and nuked the ice cream for twenty seconds to make it a little more manageable. Then he shoved a spoon into the whole business and headed out again.
Outside the big polished wooden slab of the entrance to Lola’s suite, Dev just paused and laid his hand against the wood for a moment, feeling his stomach clenching with nerves. Just get calm, he thought, taking a deep breath or so. No matter what happens to you today, no matter what happens to Omnitopia, not a whisper of it needs to touch your little girl, or scare her at all.
He headed into Lola’s suite, finding Miss Poppy sitting in the main leisure area and reading to his daughter. “—and he said, ‘This is Exploding Pop-Tart. He is—’ ”
“Daddy!” shrieked Lola, and flung herself out of the beanbag chair in which she’d been sitting.
“Lolo!” Dev said, hurriedly putting the ice cream aside. He swept her up just before she could ram into him. Lola threw her arms around his neck and whispered extremely audibly, “Poppy’s reading me The Wuggie Norple Story!”
Over his daughter’s shoulder, Dev gave Poppy a resigned look. “Really?” he said. “Can you take a few minutes off from that so I can eat my ice cream that you bought me?”
“With my own money,” said Lola, squirming to get down: Poppy put the book down with an expression eloquent of relief, smiled at Dev, and headed back toward the suite’s office. Once down, Lola peered at her dad. “Do you want some fruit? You should have five a day.”
“Oh, really?” Dev said, picking up the ice cream and going to sit down on another of the beanbags. “Where did you hear that?”
“Well!” Lola said in a schoolteacher- like voice, and sat down on the