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We held each other at arm’s length in silence, measuring. Still daughter and father, but changed. “Come for a walk with me. By the canal.”

“In the city?”

His surprise and distaste amused me. “I’ve lived here three years. I’m one of the people I used to be scared of. We’ll walk by the canal and no one will bother us. Assuming the media doesn’t have this already.”

“It’s tight as a drum. That won’t last past tomorrow morning, of course.”

“Unless your informer takes it to the net for extra money.”

“No. That was one of the conditions of receiving the reward.”

It made sense. “Will you come for that walk? You can have a bodyguard follow us, if you like.”

I opened the door. Magyar was there, trying to look bored, succeeding only in looking fierce and alien in her green skinny with its red and black strapping. I stood aside, gestured from one to the other. “Magyar, this is my father, Oster. Dad, this is Cherry Magyar.” I put my arm around her waist briefly, so he would understand, and said to her, “My father and I are going for a walk. I’ll be back. After the shift, outside.”

I hadn’t meant it to be a question, but of course it was. My father was here in the flesh. Everything was real. This was her chance to back away from Lore van de Oest. All she said was, “Don’t be late,” and gave my father a piercing look.

It was wet and cold and windy. The towpath was surprisingly light: the water reflected the city’s glow. We walked in silence for a while.

“Did you fly straight from Ratnapida?”

“Yes. Private plane from Auckland to Bangkok, then on to Rotterdam. Then here.”

“I imagine you feel cold.” It was summer in Ratnapida. Mid-eighties on a cool day.

“The carp are bigger,” he said. “Even in just three years.”

More silence.

“Lore, will you come home?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“She’s gone,” he said softly. “Your mother.”

“What happened?”

“It was terrible.”

I took his arm as we walked, and he told me: Tok arriving in the middle of the night, shouting, “-making all these accusations. He was wild. Shouting, almost screaming.” He wouldn’t wait until morning. He had waited too long already, he said. Stella was dead, Greta was a twisted shadow of what she should be, because ever since they were very small Katerine had been going into their rooms and… using them

“Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” Accusatory. “Because you already knew.”

The arm in mine tensed. I thought he would pull away, but then he sagged. “I didn’t know. I mean, I was never sure. But I think I’ve suspected… That night when you screamed and wouldn’t be left alone without a lock… But she was my wife! Your mother. Mothers don’t… they don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Stella is dead. I nearly died. Tok ran away.” I had a sudden vision of myself as a mechanical bird, parroting: Stella is dead, I nearly died, Tok ran away. Stella is dead, I nearly died, Tok…

“It’s so easy, Lore, to ignore things. To pretend that what’s there is your imagination.”

“Do you know, do you have any idea, what your… your pretense cost me? Do you?”

“Tok said…” His voice was low and brown with grief.

Maybe I should have felt sorry for him, and I did, in a way, but I was too angry. “Stella died. I didn’t even get to go to her funeral. I don’t even know where you had the funeral. Katerine was there, and not me. Katerine and Greta. And why? Because you didn’t pay my ransom! Because-”

“What do you mean, we didn’t pay your ransom? Of course we did. Greta handled it. She told me so personally.”

“Greta,” I said. “Greta. Good old gray Greta. Greta will get the job done. Give it to Greta.” I hardly recognized my own voice, it was so twisted up. Oster looked sick. “Don’t you like who I’ve become, Papa? I’ve been through some hard times, staying alive. But I’m not a bad person. I don’t hide from the truth.” You’re doing it again, hiding from things, Magyar had said. Well, not anymore. “Let me tell you some things about Greta, Papa. Are you listening? Because I will follow you and speak until you do hear. Gray Greta, efficient Greta, is running a group like Jerome’s Boys.”

“But-”

I was implacable. “One of them, who goes by the name of Nathan Meisener, was almost responsible for the deaths of thousands and thousands of people. I could have been one of them. And she’s risking the deaths of thousands every day. She had me kidnapped. Yes, my own sister. She probably kidnapped Lucas Chen.”

Oster looked bewildered.

“You’re not asking why, Papa, but I’ll tell you. She took me because I was an easy target. And she saw me as being the favorite, of you and Katerine. Maybe you would both pay the ransom. And she needed the money, because she needs to control things, have secrets, secret power. Only she didn’t know what to do when Tok started making the accusations.

Everything got confused. Maybe she thought Tok knew about her. Maybe she panicked and tried to get rid of me: I stopped being a person and became a liability. People aren’t real to her. Why? Because my mother made her crazy.” I was trembling with rage, only now it was not only at Oster but at Katerine. Katerine, who had ruined the lives of untold people. Who had nearly ruined mine. Katerine.

“Where is she?”

“What?”

“Katerine. Where is she” Where did you send her? She’s not in jail. It would have been on the net.”

“Tok said we should get the police. But I couldn’t. She’s your mother.”

She’s a monster. “She should be in jail.”

“I couldn’t…” He seemed unwilling to continue. I just waited. I was scared, I realized. What if she was somewhere nearby?

“Don’t you see? Not having control, not knowing what was going on hurt her.” Not enough. Not nearly enough to make up for Stella, and Tok, and me, and Lucas Chen. “I made her leave. Divorced her. Divested her of her holdings.” It all sounded impossibly military, like a court-martial. “She’s watched. We get reports…”

He trailed off. I had a sudden, sickening feeling in my stomach. “Who sees to the reports?”

“Greta.”

Greta. She was everywhere.

Oster was still talking to me. “… don’t understand why she would want to hurt you. She’s your sister. Are you… are you sure?”

He was hunched up, like a dog expecting a kick, I felt sorry for him. “I’m sure. And I don’t think she does want to hurt people. She doesn’t think about that. What she’s thinking about is the family. The business. Control. The patents, the intellectual property, the profits. It’s her life. The way she’s found to not think about being small and held down by her sweating, crying mother…” I was the one who was crying. Greta, who had got me a lock. My mother, lost…

He stared at me. His eyes were bright with city lights. “How do you know all this?”

“Oh, Papa, you are the one who should have known!”

He reached out and touched my tears, found a handkerchief. “We can’t be everywhere, and know everything at once,” he said sadly.

But you didn’t even try! He had removed himself from the responsibilities of ownership, He had been happy to leave it all to his wife and her family. He had delegated himself right out of the command chain, and gone off in his boat to count endangered fish.

“The business carries your name. You’re responsible.”

I didn’t know how to make him understand. I met a man called Paolo, I wanted to say, whose life is ruined because you didn’t care enough to oversee the business. The money comes in, and you take it, you don’t care how it’s made, you don’t care that we still rake in tithes on every patent use, that we preside over a monopoly that we don’t need anymore. We already have so much money we don’t know what to do with it.

But even when I was seven years old I had known he preferred to leave the real work to others. He wasn’t a termite on the forest floor, organizing the building; he was a brightly colored bird soaring up, up above the canopy, unconcerned with what went on below, as long as the sun still shone and there was nectar in the orchids.