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looked up at her. "I am not afraid of it. I know it."

"And you will die."

With a flourish of his hand Galen conjured the camera's image in the air between them.

G'Leel came to stand beside him. "That's the man from the caf©."

"He is a tailor," Galen said.

The tailor laid out a brown jacket, black pants, definitely cut for a woman. Morden held up a photograph, Galen couldn't see the picture, but Morden appeared to be checking the clothes against it. He wanted them to be perfect, to be an exact duplicate.

Why?

The tailor brought out several other outfits, and Morden compared each one against a photograph.

"If Morden has a clothes fetish, his taste is pretty tame," G'Leel said.

"I've never seen him buy women's clothes before."

"Then Morden's got a new girlfriend. He wants her to dress just like-a professional businesswoman. Or maybe she's an old flame. These are the clothes she was wearing when they first met."

Morden's wife was dead, though, and Galen knew of no girlfriend. Perhaps the romantic angle was wrong entirely. But of the various agents with whom Morden worked, Galen knew of no Human female.

The tailor boxed up the suits while Morden inspected a few additional bags of material.

Galen did a search for Alwyn, found him at the bar in the casino, a drink in hand. Alwyn drained it in one gulp.

Galen would have to wait until they could get Alwyn off the station before continuing with his task. In any case, he could not proceed until both Morden and Londo had returned to their rooms for the night.

He searched for Londo, found him at a formal reception for Minister Virini, standing close by the influential minister and commenting curiously on Lord Refa's absence.

Meanwhile, Refa boarded his ship, falling into Londo's plan. Refa
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