Chapter 11

AROUND A MINOR G-TYPE STAR fairly far out toward one edge of amedium-sized galaxy the planets of that star swung as usual, just as theyhad for billions of years, under the influence of a slightly modified inversesquare law that shaped the space around them. Three of them were bigenough, as planets go, to be noticeable; the rest were mere pebbles,concealed in the fiery skirts of the primary or lost in the black outer reachesof space. All of them, as is always the case, were infected with that oddity ofdistorted entropy called life~, in the cases of the third and fourth planets theirsurface temperatures cycled around the freezing point of hydrogenmonoxide-in consequence they had developed life forms similar enough topermit a degree of social contact.

  On the fourth pebble out the ancient Martians were not in any importantsense disturbed by the contact with Earth. The nymphs of the race stillbounced joyously around the surface of Mars, learning to live, and eight outof nine of them dying in the process. The adult Martians, enormously differentin body and mind from the nymphs, still huddled in or under the faerie,graceful cities, and were as quiet in their behavior as the nymphs wereboisterous-yet were even busier than the nymphs, busy with a complex andrich life of the mind.

  The lives of the adults were not entirely free of work in the human sense;they had still a planet to take care of and supervise, plants must be told whenand where to grow, nymphs who had passed their .prenticeships by survivingmust be gathered in, cherished, fertilized, the resultant eggs must becherished and contemplated to encourage them to ripen properly, thefull3.lled nymphs must be persuaded to give up childish things and thenmetamorphosed into adults. All these things must be done-but they were nomore the .life“ of Mars than is walking the dog twice a day the .life“ of a manwho controls a planet-wide corporation in the hours between those pleasantwalks . . . even though to a being from Arcturus III those daily walks mightseem to be the tycoon’s most significant activity-no doubt as a slave to thedog.

  Martians and humans were both self-aware life forms but they had gone invastly different directions. All human behavior, all human motivations, allman’s hopes and fears, were heavily colored and largely controlled bymankind’s tragic and oddly beautiful pattern of reproduction. The same wastrue of Mars, but in mirror corollary. Mars had the efficient bipolar pattern socommon in that galaxy, but the Martians had it in a form so different from theTerran form that it would have been termed .sex“ only by a biologist, and itemphatically would not have been .sex“ to a human psychiatrist. Martiannymphs were female, all the adults were male.

  But in each case in function only, not in psychology. The man-woman polaritywhich controlled all human lives could not exist on Mars. There was nopossibility of .marriage.“ The adults were huge, reminding the first humans tosee them of ice boats under sail; they were physically passive, mentallyactive. The nymphs were fat, furry spheres, full of bounce and mindlessenergy. There was no possible parallel between human and Martianpsychological foundations. Human bipolarity was both the binding force andthe driving energy for all human behavior, from sonnets to nuclear equations.

  If any being thinks that human psychologists exaggerate on this point, let itsearch Terran patent offices, libraries, and art galleries for creations ofeunuchs.

  Mars, being geared unlike Earth, paid little attention to the Envoy and theChampion. The two events had happened too recently to be of significance-ifMartians had used newspapers, one edition a Terran century would havebeen ample. Contact with other races was nothing new to Martians; it hadhappened before, would happen again. When the new other race had beenthoroughly grokked, then (in a Terran millennium or so) would be time foraction, if needed.

  On Mars the currently important event was of a different sort. ThediscorpOrate Old Ones had decided almost absent-mindedly to send thenestling human to grok what he could of the third planet, then turnedattention back to serious matters. Shortly before, around the time of theTerran Caesar Augustus, a Martian artist had been engaged in composing awork of art. It could have been called with equal truth a poem, a musicalopus, or a philosophical treatise; it was a series of emotions arranged intragic, logical necessity. Since it could have been experienced by a humanonly in the sense in which a man blind from birth could have a sunsetexplained to him, it does not matter much to which category of humancreativity it might be assigned. The important point was that the artist hadaccidentally discorporated before he finished his masterpiece.

  Unexpected discorporation was always rare on Mars; Martian taste in suchmatters called for life to be a rounded whole, with physical death taking placeat the appropriate and selected instant. This artist, however, had become sopreoccupied with his work that he had forgotten to come in out of the cold; bythe time his absence was noticed his body was hardly fit to eat. He himselfhad not noticed his own discorporation and had gone nght on composing hissequence.

  Martian art was divided sharply into two categories, that sort created by livingadults, which was vigorous, often quite radical, and primitive, and that of theOld Ones, which was usually conservative, extremely complex, and wasexpected to show much higher standards of technique; the two sorts werejudged separately.

  By what standards should this opus be judged? It bridged from the corporateto the discorporate; its final form had been set throughout by an Old One-yeton the other hand the artist, with the detachment of all artists everywhere,had not even noticed the change in his status and had Continued to work asif he were corporate. Was it possibly a new sort of art? Could more suchpieces be produced by surprise discorporation of artists while they wereworking? The Old Ones had been discussing the exciting possibilities inruminative rapport for centuries and all corporate Martians were eagerlyawaiting their verdict.

  The question was of greater interest because it had not been abstract art, butreligious (in the Terran sense) and strongly emotional~ it described thecontact between the Martian Race and the people of the fifth planet, an eventthat had happened long ago but which was alive and important to Martians inthe sense in which one death by crucifixion remained alive and important tohumans after two Terran millennia. The Martian Race had encountered thepeople of the fifth planet, grokked them completelY, and in due course hadtaken action; the asteroid ruins were all that remained, save that the Martianscontinued to cherish and praise the people they had destroyed. This newwork of art was one of many attempts to grok all parts of the whole beautifulexperience in all its complexity in one opus. But before it could be judged itwas necessary to grok how to judge it.

  It was a very pretty problem.

  On the third planet Valentine Michael Smith was not concerned with theburning issue on Mars; he had never heard of it. Ills Martian keeper and hiskeeper’s water brothers had not mocked him with things he could not grasp.

  Smith knew of the destruction of the fifth planet and its etnotionalimportance~ just as any human school boy learns of Troy and PlymouthRock, but he had not been exposed to art that he could not grok. Hiseducation had been unique, enormOuSlY greater than that of his nestlings,enormOuslY less than that of an adult; his keeper and his keeper’s advisersamong the Old Ones had taken a large passing interest in seeing just howmuch and of what sort this nestling alien could learn. The results had taughtthem more about the potentialities of the human race than that race had yetlearned about itself, for Smith had grokked very readily things that no otherhuman being had ever learned.

  But just at present Smith W95 simply enjoying himself with alightheartedness he had not experienced in many years. He had won a newwater brother in JubaL he had acquired many new friends, he was enjoyingdelightful new experiences in such kaleidoscopic quantity that he had no timeto grok them; he could only file them away to be relived at leisure.

  His brother Jubal had assured him that be would grok this strange andbeautiful place more quickly if he would learn to read, so he had taken a fullday off to learn to read really well and quickly, with Jill pointing to words andpronouncing them for him. It had meant staying out of the swimming pool allthat day, which had been a great sacrifice, as swimming (once he got itthrough his head that it was actually permitted) was not merely an exuberant,sensuous delight but almost unbearable religious ecstasy. If Jill and Jubalhad not told him to do otherwise, he would never have come out of the poolat all.

  Since he was not permitted to swim at night he read all night long. He waszipping through the Encyclopedia Britannica and was sampling Jubal’smedicine and law libraries as dessert. His brother Jubal had seen him leafingrapidly through one of the books, had stopped him and questioned him aboutwhat he had read. Smith had answered carefully, as it reminded him of thetests the Old Ones had occasionally given him. His brother had seemed a bitupset at his answers and Smith had found it necessary to go into an hour’scontemplation on that account, for he bad been quite sure that he hadanswered with the words written in the book even though he did not grokthem all.

  But he preferred the pool to the books, especially when Jill and Miriam andLarry and Anne and the rest were all splashing each other. He had notlearned at once to swim as they did, but had discovered the first time that hecould do 5~mething they could not. He had simply gone down to the bottomand lain there, immersed in quiet bliss~_~wbereUP0~~ they had hauled himout with such excitement that he had almost been forced to withdraw himself,had it not been evident that they were concerned for his welfare.

  Later that day he had demonstrated the matter to Jubal, remaining on thebottom for a delicious time, and he had tried to teach it to his brother Jill . . .

  but she had become disturbed and he had desisted. It was his first clearrealization that there were things that he could do that these new friendscould not. He thought about it a long time, trying to grok its fullness.

  Smith was happy; Harshaw was not. He continued his usual routine ofaimless loafing, varied only by casual and unplanned observation of hislaboratory animal, the Man from Mars. He arranged no schedule for Smith,no programme of study, no regular physical examinations, but simply allowedSmith to do as he pleased, run wild, like a puppy growing up on a ranch.

  What supervision Smith received came from Jill: more than enough, inJubal’s grumpy opinions as he took a dim view of males being reared byfemales.

  However, Gillian Boardman did little more than coach Valentine Smith in therudiments of human social behavior-and he needed very little coaching. Heate at the table with the others now, dressed himself (at least Jubal thoughthe did; he made a mental note to ask Jill if she still had to assist him); heconformed acceptably to the household’s very informal customs andappeared able to cope with most new experiences on a.monkey~see~monkeYd0“ basis. Smith started his first meal at the tableusing only a spoon and Jill had cut up his meat for hint By the end of themeal he was attempting to eat as the others ate. At the next meal his tablemanners were a precise imitation of Jill’s, including superfluous mannerisms.

  Even the twin discovery that Smith had taught himself to read with the speedof electronic scanning and appeared to have total recall of all that he read didnot tempt Jubat HarshaW to make a .project“ of Smith, one with controls,measurements, and curves of progress. Harshaw had the arrogant humility ofthe man who has learned so much that he is aware of his own ignorance andhe saw no point in .measurements“ when he did not know what he wasmeasuring. Instead he limited himself to notes made privately, without evenany intention of publishing his observations.

  But, while Harshaw enjoyed watching this unique animal develop into amimicry copy of a human being, his pleasure afforded him no happiness.

  Like Secretary General Douglas, Harshaw was waiting for the other shoeto drop.

  Waiting with increasing tenseness- Having found himself coerced into actionby the expectation of action against him on the part of the government, itannoyed and exasperated him that nothing as yet had happened. Damn it,were the Federation cops so stupid that they couldn’t track anunsophisticated girl dragging an unconscious man all across thecountryside? Or (as seemed more likely) had they been on her heels thewhole way?-and even now were keeping a stake-out on his place? The latterthought was infuriating; to Harshaw the notion that the government might bespying on his home, his castle, with anything from binoculars to radar, was asrepulsive as the idea of having his mail opened.

  And they might be doing that, toOt he reminded himself morosely.

  Government! Three fourths parasitic and the other fourth Stupid fumbling -oh,he conceded that man, a social animal, could not avoid having government,any more than an individual man could escape his lifelong bondage to hisbowels. But Harshaw did not have to like it. Simply because an evil wasinescapable was no reason to term it a .good.“ He wished that governmentwould wander off and get lost?

  But it was certainly possible, or even probable, that the administration knewexactly where the Man from Mars was hiding . . . and for reasons of their ownpreferred to leave it that way, while they prepared- what?

  If so, how long would it go on? And how long could he keep his defensive.time bomb“ armed and ready?

  And where the devil was that reckless young idiot Ben Caxton?

  Jill Boardman forced him out of his spiritual thumb-twiddling. .Jubal?“.Eh? Oh, it’s you, bright eyes. Sorry, I was preoccupied. Sit down. Havea drink?“.Uh, no, thank you. Jubal, I’m worried.“.Normal. Who isn’t? That was a mighty pretty swan dive you did. Let’s seeanother one just like it.“Jill bit her lip and looked about twelve years old. .Jubal? Please listen! I’mterribly worried.“He sighed. .In that case, dry yourself off. The breeze is getting chilly.“.I’m warm enough. Uh, Jubal? Would it be all right if I left Mike here? Wouldyou take care of him?“Harshaw blinked. .Of course he can stay here. You know that. The girls willlook out for him-and I’ll keep an eye on him from time to time. He’s notrouble. I take it you’re leaving?“She didn’t meet his eye. .Yes.“.Mmmm ... you’re welcome here. But you’re welcome to leave, too, if that’swhat you want.“.Huh? But, Jubal-I don’t want to leave!“.Then don’t.“.But I must!“.Better play that back. I didn’t scan it.“.Don’t you see, Jubal? I like it here-you’ve been wonderful to us! But I can’tstay any longer. Not with Ben missing. I’ve got to go look for him.“Harshaw said one word, emotive, earthy, and vulgar, then added, .How doyou propose to look for him?“She frowned. .I don’t know. But I can’t just lie around here any longer, loafingand swimming-with Ben missing.“.Gillian, as I pointed out to you before, Ben is a big boy now. You’re not hismother-and you’re not his wife. And I’m not his keeper. Neither of us isresponsible for him . . . and you haven’t any call to go looking for him. Haveyou?“Jill looked down and twisted one toe in the grass. .No,“ she admitted. .Ihaven’t any claim on Ben. I just know ... that if I turned up missing Ben wouldlook for me-until he found me. So I’ve got to look for him!“Jubal breathed a silent malediction against all elder gods in any way involvedin contriving the follies of the human race, then said aloud, .All right, all right,if you must, then let’s try to get some logic into it. Do you plan to hireprofessionals? Say a private detective firm that specializes in missingpersons?“She looked unhappy. .I suppose that’s the way to go about it. Uh, I’ve neverhired a detective. Are they expensive?“.Quite.“Jill gulped. .Do you suppose they would let me arrange to pay, uh, in monthlyinstallments? Or something?“.Cash at the stairs is their usual way. Quit looking so grim, child; I broughtthat up to dispose of it. I’ve already hired the best in the business to try to findBen-so there is no need for you to hock your future to hire the second best.“.You didn’t tell me!“.No need to tell you.“.But- Jubal, what did they find out?“.Nothing,“ he said shortly. .Nothing worth reporting, so there was no need toput you any further down in the dumps by telling you.“ Jubal scowled. .Whenyou showed up here, I thought you were unnecessarily nervy about Ben-Ifigured the same as his assistant, that fellow Kilgallen, that Ben had goneyipping off on some new trail . . . and would check in when he had the storywrapped up. Ben does that sort of stunt-it’s his profession.“ He sighed. .Butnow I don’t think so. That knothead Kilgallen-he really does have a statprintmessage on file, apparently from Ben, telling Kilgallen that Ben would beaway a few days; my man not only saw it but sneaked a photograph andchecked. No fake-the message was sent.“Jill looked puzzled. .I wonder why Ben didn’t send me a statprint at the sametime? It isn’t like him-Ben’s very thoughtful.“Jubal repressed a groan. .Use your head, Gillian. Just because a packagesays .Cigarettes’ on the outside does not prove that the package containscigarettes. You got here last Friday; the code groups on that statprintmessage show that it was filed from Philadelphia-Paoli Station Landing Flat,to be exact-just after ten thirty the morning before-lO.34 AM. Thursday. It wastransmitted a couple of minutes after it was filed and was received at once,because Ben’s office has its own statprinter. All right, now you tell me whyBen sent a printed message to his own office-during working hours-instead oftelephoning?“.Why, I don’t think he would, ordinarily. At least I wouldn’t. The telephone isthe normal-.

  .But you aren’t Ben. I can think of half a dozen reasons, for a man in Ben’sbusiness. To avoid garbles. To insure a printed record in the files of I.T.&T.

  for legal purposes. To send a delayed message. All sorts of reasons.

  Kilgallen saw nothing odd about it-and the simple fact that Ben, or thesyndicate he sells to, goes to the expense of maintaining a private statprinterin his office shows that Ben uses it regularly.

  .However,“ Jubal went on, .the snoops I hired are a suspicious lot; thatmessage placed Ben at Paoli flat at ten thirty-four on Thursday-so one ofthem went there. Jill, that message was not sent from there.“.But-.

  .One moment. The message was filed from there but did not originate there.

  Messages are either handed over the counter or telephoned. If one is handedover the counter, the customer can have it typed or he can ask for facsimiletransmission of his handwriting and signature . . . but if it is filed bytelephone, it has to be typed by the filing office before it can bephotographed.“.Yes, of course.“.Doesn’t that suggest anything, Jill?“.Uh ... Jubal, I’m so worried that I’m not thinking straight. What should itsuggest?“.Quit the breast-beating; it wouldn’t have suggested anything to me, either.

  But the pro who was working for me is a very sneaky character; he arrived atPaoli with a convincing statprint made from the photograph that was takenunder Kilgallen’s nose-and with business cards and credentials that made itappear that he himself was .Osbert Kilgallen,’ the addressee. Then, with hisfatherly manner and sincere face, he hornswoggled a young lady employeeof I.T.&T. into telling him things which, under the privacy amendment to theConstitution, she should have divulged only under court order-very sad.

  Anyhow, she did remember receiving that message for file and processing.

  Ordinarily she wouldn’t remember one message out of hundreds-they go inher ears and out her fingertips and are gone, save for the filed microprint.

  But, luckily, this young lady is one of Ben’s faithful fans; she reads his.Crow’s Nest’ column every night-a hideous vice.“ Jubal blinked his eyesthoughtfully at the horizon. .Front!“Anne appeared, dripping. .Remind me,“ Jubal said to her, .to write a populararticle on the compulsive reading of news. The theme will be that mostneuroses and some psychoses can be traced to the unnecessary andunhealthy habit of daily wallowing in the troubles and sins of five billionstrangers. The title is .Gossip Unlimited’-no, make that .Gossip Gone Wild.’“.Boss, you’re getting morbid.“.Not me. But everybody else is. See that I write it some time next week. Nowvanish; I’m busy.“ He turned back to Gillian. .She noticed Ben’s name, so sheremembered the message-quite thrilled about it, because it let her speak toone of her heroes . . . and was irked, I gather, because Ben hadn’t paid forvision as well as voice. Oh, she remembers it and she remembers, too, thatthe service was paid for by cash from a public booth-in Washington.“.’In Washington’?“ repeated Jill. .But why would Ben callfrom-.

  .Of course, of course!“ Jubal agreed pettishly. .If he’s at a public phone boothanywhere in Washington, he can have both voice and vision direct to hisoffice, face to face with his assistant, cheaper, easier, and. quicker than hecould phone a stat message to be sent back to Washington from a pointnearly two hundred miles away. It doesn’t make sense. Or, rather, it makesjust one kind of sense. Hanky-panky. Ben is as used to hanky-panky as abride is to kisses. He didn’t get to be one of the best winchells in the businessthrough playing his cards face up.“.Ben is not a winchell! He’s a Lippmann!“.Sorry, I’m color-blind in that range. Keep quiet. He might have believed thathis phone was tapped but his statprinter was not. Or he might havesuspected that both were tapped-and I’ve no doubt they are, by now, if notthen-and that he could use this round-about relay to convince whoever wastapping him that he really was away from Washington and would not be backfor several days.“ Jubal frowned. .In the latter case we would be doing himno favor by finding him. We might be endangering his life.“.Jubal! No!“.Jubal, yes,“ he answered wearily. .That boy skates close to the edge, healways has. He’s utterly fearless and that’s how he’s made his reputation. Butthe rabbit is never more than two jumps ahead of the coyote and this timemaybe one jump. Or none, Jill, Ben has never tackled a more dangerousassignment than this. If he has disappeared voluntarily-and he may have-doyou want to risk stirring things up by bumbling around in your amateur way,calling attention to the fact that he has dropped out of sight? Kilgallen still hashim covered, as Ben’s column has appeared every day. I don’t ordinarily readit-but I’ve made it my business to know, this time.“.Canned columns! Mr. Kilgallen told me so.“.Of course. Some of Ben’s perennial series on corrupt campaign funds.

  That’s a subject as safe as being in favor of Christmas. Maybe they’re kepton file for such emergencies-or perhaps Kilgallen is writing them. In anycase, Ben Caxton, the ever-ready Advocate of the Peepul, is still officially onhis usual soap box. Perhaps he planned it that way, my dear-because hefound himself in such danger that he did not dare get in touch even with you.

  Well?“Gillian glanced fearfully around her-at a scene almost unbearably peaceful,bucolic, and beautiful-then covered her face with her hands. .Jubal ... I don’tknow what to do!“.Snap out of it,“ he said gruffly. .Don’t bawl over Ben-not in my presence. Theworst that can possibly have happened to him is death and that we are all infor-if not this morning, then in days, or weeks, or years at most. Talk to yourprotégé Mike about it. He regards .discorporation’ as less to be feared than ascolding-and he may be right. Why, if I told Mike we were going to roast himand serve him for dinner tonight, he would thank me for the honor with hisvoice choked with gratitude.“.I know he would,“ Jill agreed in a small voice, .but I don’t have hisphilosophical attitude about such things.“.Nor do I,“ Harshaw agreed cheerfully, .but I’m beginning to grasp it-and Imust say that it is a consoling one to a man of my age. A capacity forenjoying the inevitable-why, I’ve been cultivating that all my life . . . but thisinfant from Mars, barely old enough to vote and too unsophisticated to standclear of the horse cars, has me convinced that I’ve just reached thekindergarten class in this all-important subject. Jill, you asked if Mike waswelcome to stay on. Child, he’s the most welcome guest I’ve ever had. I wantto keep that boy around until I’ve found out what it is that he knows and Idon’t! This .discorporation’ thing in particular it’s not the Freudian .death-wish’

  cliché, I’m sure of that. It has nothing to do with life being unbearable. Noneof that .Even the weariest river’ stuff -it’s more like Stevenson’s .Glad did I liveand gladly die and I lay me down with a will!’ Only I’ve always suspected thatStevenson was either whistling in the dark, or, more likely, enjoying thecompensating euphoria of consumption. But Mike has me halfway convincedthat he really knows what he is talking about.“.I don’t know,“ Jill answered dully. .I’m just worried about Ben.“.So am I,“ agreed Jubal. .So let’s discuss Mike another time. Jill, I don’t thinkthat Ben is simply hiding any more than you do.“.But you said-.

  .Sorry. I didn’t finish. My hired men didn’t limit themselves to Ben’s office andPaoli Flat. On Thursday morning Ben called at Bethesda Medical Center incompany with the lawyer he uses and a Fair Witness-the famous JamesOliver Cavendish, in case you follow such things.“.I don’t, I’m afraid.“.No matter. The fact that Ben retained Cavendish shows how seriously hetook the matter; you don’t hunt rabbits with an elephant gun. The three weretaken to see the .Man from Mars’-.

  Gillian gaped, then said explosively, .That’s impossible! They couldn’t havecome on that floor without my knowing it!“.Take it easy, Jill. You’re disputing a report by a Fair Witness and not just anyFair Witness. Cavendish himself. If he says it, it’s gospel.“.I don’t care if he’s the Twelve Apostles! He wasn’t on my floor lastThursday morning!“.You didn’t listen closely. I didn’t say that they were taken to see our friendMike-I said they were taken to see .The Man from Mars.’ The phony one,obviously-that actor fellow they stereovised.“.Oh. Of course, And Ben caught them out!“Jubal looked pained. .Little girl, count to ten thousand by twos while I finishthis. Ben did not catch them out. In fact, even the Honorable Mr. Cavendishdid not catch them out-at least he won’t say so. You know how FairWitnesses behave.“.Well ... no, I don’t. I’ve never had any dealings with Fair Witnesses.“.So? Perhaps you weren’t aware of it. Anne!“Anne was seated on the springboard; she turned her head. Jubal called out,.That new house on the far hilltop-can you see what color they’ve painted it?“Anne looked in the direction in which Jubal was pointing and answered, .It’swhite on this side.“ She did not inquire why Jubal had asked, nor make anycomment.

  Jubal went on to Jill in normal tones, .You see? Anne is so thoroughlyindoctrinated that it doesn’t even occur to her to infer that the other side isprobably white, too. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’tforce her to commit herself as to the far side - . . unless she herself wentaround to the other side and looked-and even then she wouldn’t assume thatit stayed whatever color it might be after she left because they might repaint itas soon as she turned her back,“.Anne is a Fair Witness?“.Graduate, unlimited license, and admitted to testify before the High Court.

  Sometime ask her why she decided to give up public practice. But don’t planon anything else that day-the wench will recite the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth, and that takes time. Back to Mr. Cavendish- Benretained him for open witnessing, full disclosure, without enjoining him toprivacy. So when Cavendish was questioned, he answered, in full and boringdetail. I’ve got a tape of it upstairs. But the interesting part of his report iswhat he does not say. He never states that the man they were taken to seewas not the Man from Mars . . . but not one word can be construed asindicating that Cavendish accepted the exhibit he was called to view as beingin fact the Man from Mars. If you knew Cavendish-and I do-this would beconclusive. If Cavendish had seen Mike, even for a few minutes, he wouldhave reported what he had seen with such exactness that you and I, whoknow Mike, would know that he had seen him. For example, Cavendishreports in precise professional jargon the shape of this exhibit’s ears ... and itdoes not match Mike’s ear shape at all. Q.E.D.; he didn’t see Mike. Nor didBen. They were shown a phony. Furthermore Cavendish knows it, eventhough he is professionally restrained from giving opinions or conclusions.“.But I told you so. They never came near my floor.“.Yes. But it tells us something more. This occurred hours before you pulledyour jail break for Mike-about eight hours earlier, as Cavendish sets theirarrival in the presence of the phony .Man from Mars’ at 9.14 Thursdaymorning. That is to say, the government still had Mike under their thumb atthat moment. In the same building. They could have exhibited him. Yet theytook the really grave risk of offering a phony for inspection by the most notedFair Witness in Washington-in the country. Why?“He waited. Jill answered slowly, .You’re asking me? I don’t know. Ben toldme that he intended to ask Mike if he wanted to leave the hospital-and helphim to do so if he said, .Yes.’“.Which Ben did try, with the phony.“.So? Out, Jubal, they couldn’t have known that Ben intended to do that . . .

  and, anyhow, Mike wouldn’t have left with Ben.“.Why not? Later that day he left with you.“.Yes-but I was already his .water brother,’ just as you are now. He has thiscrazy Martian idea that he can trust utterly anyone with whom he has shareda drink of water. With a .water brother’ he is completely docile and withanybody else he is stubborn as a mule. Ben couldn’t have budged him.“ Sheadded, .At least that is the way he was last week-he’s changing awfully fast.“.So he is. Too fast, maybe. I’ve never seen muscle tissue develop so rapidly-I’m sorry I didn’t weigh him the day you arrived. Never mind, back to Ben-Cavendish reports that lien dropped him and the lawyer, a chap namedFrisby, at nine thirty-one, and Ben kept the cab. We don’t know where Benwent then. But an hour later he-or let’s say somebody who said he was Benphonedthat message to Paoli Flat.“.You don’t think it was Ben?“.I do not. Cavendish reported the license number of the cab and my scoutstried to get a look at the daily trip tape for that cab. If Ben used his creditcard, rather than feeding coins into the cab’s meter, his charge numbershould be printed on the tape-but even if he paid cash the tape should showwhere the cab had been and when.“.Well?“Harshaw shrugged. .The records show that that cab was in for repairs andwas never in use Thursday morning. That gives us two choices: either a FairWitness misread or misremembered a cab’s serial number or somebodytampered with the record.“ He added grimly, .Maybe a jury would decide thateven a Fair Witness could glance at a cab’s serial number and misread it,especially if he had not been asked to remember it-but I don’t believe it . . .

  not when the Witness is James Oliver Cavendish. Cavendish would either becertain of that serial number-or his report would never mention it.“Harshaw scowled and went on, .Jill, you’re forcing me to rub my own nose init-and I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all! Granted that Ben could have sent thatmessage, it is most unlikely that he could have tampered with the dailyrecord of that cab . . and still less believable that he had any reason to. No,let’s face it. Ben went somewhere in that cab- and somebody who could getat the records of a public carrier went to a lot of trouble to conceal where hewent . . and sent a phony message to keep anyone from realizing that he haddisappeared.“.’Disappeared!’ Kidnapped, you mean!“.Softly, Jill. .Kidnapped’ is a dirty word.“.It’s the only word for it! Jubal, how can you sit there and do nothing whenyou ought to be shouting it from the-.

  .Stop it, Jill! There’s another word. Instead of kidnapped, he might bedead.“Gillian slumped. .Yes,“ she agreed dully. .That’s what I’m really afraid of.“.So am I. But we’ll assume he is not, until we have seen his bones. But it’sone or the other-so we assume that he is kidnapped. Jill, what’s the greatestdanger about kidnapping? No, don’t bother your pretty head; I’ll tell you. Thegreatest danger to the victim is a hue-and-cry-because if a kidnapper isfrightened, he will almost always kill his victim. Had you thought of that?“Gillian looked woeful and did not answer. Harshaw went on gently, .I amforced to say that I think it is extremely likely that Ben is dead. He has beengone too long. But we’ve agreed to assume that he is alive-until we knowotherwise. Now you intend to look for him. Gillian, can you tell me how youwill go about this? Without increasing the risk that lien will be done away withby the unknown party or parties who kidnapped him?“.Uh- But we know who they are!“.Do we?“.Of course we do! The same people who were keeping Mike a prisoner-thegovernment!“Harshaw shook his head. .We don’t know it. That’s an assumption based onwhat Ben was doing when last seen. But it’s not a certainty. Ben has madelots of enemies with his column and by no means all of them are in thegovernment. I can think of several who would willingly kill him if they couldget away with it. However-. Harshaw frowned. .Your assumption is all wehave to go on. But not .the government’-that’s too sweeping a term. .Thegovernment’ is several million people, nearly a million in Washington alone.

  We have to ask ourselves: Whose toes were being stepped on? What personor persons? Not .the government’-but what individuals?“.Why, that’s plain enough, Jubal. I told you, just as Ben told it to me. It’s theSecretary General himself.“.No,“ Harshaw denied. .While that may be true, it’s not useful to us. Nomatter who did what, if it is anything rough or illegal, it won’t be the SecretaryGeneral who did it, even if he benefits by it. Nobody would ever be able toprove that he even knew about it. It is likely that he would not know about itnotthe rough stuff. No, Jill, we need to find out which lieutenant in theSecretary General’s large staff’ of stooges handled this operation. But thatisn’t as hopeless as it sounds-I think. When Ben was taken in to see thatphony .Man from Mars,’ one of Mr. Douglas’s executive assistants was withhim-tried to talk him out of it, then went with him. It now appears that thissame top-level stooge also dropped out of sight last Thursday - . . and I don’tthink it is a coincidence, not when he appears to have been in charge of thephony .Man from Mars.’ If we find him, we may find Ben, Gilbert Berquist ishis name and I have reason-.

  .Berquist?“.That’s the name. And I have reason to suspect that-Jill, what’s the trouble?

  Stop it! Don’t faint, or sweip me, I’ll dunk you in the pool!“.Jubal. This .Berquist.’ Is there more than one Berquist?“.Eh? I suppose so ... though from all I can find out he does seem to be a bitof a bastard; there might be only one. Out I mean the one on the Executivestaff. Why? Do you know him?“.I don’t know. But if it is the same one ... I don’t think there’s any uselooking for him.“.Mmm ... talk, girl.“.Jubal, I’m sorry-I’m terribly sorry-but I didn’t tell you quite everything.“.People rarely do. All right, out with it.“Stumbling, stuttering, and stammering, Gillian managed to tell about the twomen who suddenly were not there. Jubal Simply listened. .And that’s all,“ sheconcluded sadly. .I screamed and scared Mike ... and he went into thattrance you saw him in-and then I had a simply terrible time getting here. But Itold you about that.“.Mmm ... yes, so you did. I wish that you had told me about this, too.“She turned red. .I didn’t think anybody would believe me. And I was scared.

  Jubal, can they do anything to us?“.Eh?“ Jubal seemed surprised. .Do what?“.Send us to jail, or something?“.Oh. My dear, it has not yet been declared a crime to be present at a miracle.

  Nor to work one. But this matter has more aspects than a cat has hair. Keepquiet and let me think.“Jill kept quiet. Jubal held still about ten minutes. At last he opened his eyesand said, .I don’t see your problem child. He’s probably lying on the bottom ofthe pool again-.

  .He is.“.-so dive in and get him. Dry him off and bring him up to my study. I want tofind Out if he can repeat this stunt at will . . . and I don’t think we need anaudience. No, we do need an audience. Tell Anne to put on her Witness robeand come along-tell her I want her in her official capacity. I want Duke, too.“.Yes, Boss.“.You’re not privileged to call me .Boss’; you’re not tax deductible.“.Yes, Jubal.“.That’s better. Mmm ... I wish we had somebody here who never would bemissed. Regrettably we are all friends. Do you suppose Mike can do thisStunt with inanimate objects?“.I don’t know.“.We’ll find out. Well, what are you standing there for? Haul that boy out of thewater and wake him up.“ Jubal blinked thoughtfully. .What a way to disposeof-no, I mustn’t be tempted. See you upstairs, girl.“