The keys were marked; Cortin had no trouble finding the one for the main entrance, or for the cellblock. She'd wait for Mike before taking any of them to the suite, but she could make a preliminary evaluation and pick her first subject. The block held twenty cells, four of them, as Brady had said, flagged as having occupants. She didn't get beyond the second one, though. Its occupant startled her at first--she hadn't thought of him since leaving New Denver months ago--then she chuckled and turned on the cell's speaker. "Powell--I would've thought you, of all people, would've avoided Enforcement troopers." Startled, the young man stared at the one-way glass in the door. "Uh . . . Captain Cortin?" "Colonel, now--but it's me, yes. What're you doing in custody again, much less at Harmony Lodge?" Powell managed a tentative smile. "Congratulations, Colonel." Then it faded, and his shoulders slumped. "You won't believe me--they didn't, at the Center, so they sent me here for the High King's Inquisitor." To Cortin's astonishment, she saw the beginnings of hope in his face, and his eyes brightened. "That's not-- You're not--?" "It is, and I am." "Oh, thank God! They said the King's Inquisitor would have truthsense--please, let me talk to you!" Cortin hesitated. He certainly sounded sincere enough, but he'd been conditioned once; possibly he had been re-conditioned, this time to kill whoever turned out to be King's Inquisitor. On the other hand, that Brother had said Shannon had put her off limits, and Powell had submitted to her will once; he'd do so again easily. So she was unlocking the cell door when Odeon arrived. "Find a promising one?" he asked. "I'd say so--one who wants to talk to me, at least." Cortin opened the cell's door, beckoned its occupant out. "You remember our young friend?" "Of course! What's he doing here?" "That's what he wants to talk about. Shall we go to my suite?" "Just a second, please?" The young man was looking at her with adoration so open it was almost embarrassing, and Cortin wondered where that had come from. "I haven't seen Captain Odeon in ages . . ." "I don't mind if he doesn't." Cortin watched them embrace, one hand close to her pistol, but it seemed that all Powell wanted was a kiss. At least that much of his conditioning held, she thought. When they broke, she repeated, "Shall we go to my suite?" This time they made it. Suite Alpha's office was simple, but comfortably appointed, designed to give the subject a feeling of relaxation and trust. Cortin took her place in a grouping of furniture intended to help the subject feel more at ease that the normal desk-centered version of first stage, and gestured the other two to adjoining seats. "Now, Charles, what is it you don't think I'll believe?"