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Foyle became aware of white-armored Disaster Crews appearing on the streets. An imperious signal directed at him warned him that he was about to be summarily drafted for disaster work. The problem of jaunting was not to get populations out of cities, but to force them to return and restore order. Foyle had no intention of spending a week fighting fire and looters. He accelerated and evaded the Disaster Crew.
At Fifth Avenue he decelerated; the drain of acceleration on his energy was so enormous that he was reluctant to maintain it for more than a few moments. Long periods of acceleration demanded days of recuperation.
The looters and Jack-jaunters were already at work on the avenue, singly, in swarms, furtive yet savage; jackals rending the body of a living but helpless animal. They descended on Foyle. Anything was their prey tonight.
«I'm not in the mood,» he told them. «Play with somebody else.»
He emptied the money out of his pockets and tossed it to them. They snapped it up but were not satisfied. They desired entertainment and he was obviously a helpless gentleman. Half a dozen surround Foyle and closed in to torment him.
«Kind gentleman,» they smiled. «We're going to have a party.»
Foyle had once seen the mutilated body of one of their party guests. He sighed and detached his mind from visions of Olivia Presteign.
«All right, jackals,» he said. «Let's have a party.»
They prepared to send him into a screaming dance. Foyle tripped the switchboard in his mouth and became for twelve devastating seconds the most murderous machine ever devised . . . the Commando killer. It was done without conscious thought or volition; his body merely followed the directive taped into muscle and reflex. He left six bodies stretched on the street.
Old St. Pat's still stood, unblemished, eternal, the distant fires flickering on the green copper of its roof. Inside, it was deserted. The tents of the Four Mile Circus filled the nave, illuminated and furnished, but the circus perso
«But they'll be back to loot,» Foyle murmured.
He entered his own tent. The first thing he saw was a figure in white, crouched on a rug, crooning su
«Robin!»
She went on crooning wordlessly. He pulled her up, shook her, and slapped her. She beamed and crooned. He filled a syringe and gave her a tremendous shot of Niacin. The sobering wrench of the drug on her pathetic flight from reality was ghastly. Her satin skin turned ashen. The beautiful face twisted. She recognized Foyle, remembered what she had tried to forget, screamed and sank to her knees. She began to cry.
«That's better,» he told her. «You're a great one for escape, aren't you? First suicide. Now this. What next?»
«Go away.»
«Probably religion. I can see you joining a cellar sect with passwords like Pax Vobiscum. Bible smuggling and martyrdom for the faith. Can't you ever face up to anything?»
«Don't you ever run away?»
«Never. Escape is for cripples. Neurotics.»
«Neurotics. The favorite word of the Joh
«Me? Never. I've been hunting all my life.»
«You've been ru
«Attack-Escape?» Foyle was brought up with a jolt. «You mean I've been ru
«Obviously.»
«From what?»
«From reality. You can't accept life as it is. You refuse. You attack it try to force it into your own pattern. You attack and destroy everything that stands in the way of your own insane pattern.» She lifted her tearstained face. «I can't stand it any more. I want you to let me go.»
«Go? Where?»
«To live my own life.»
«What about your family?»
«And find them my own way.»
«Why? What now?»
«It's too much. . . you and the war. . . because you're as bad as the war. Worse. What happened to me tonight is what happens to me every moment I'm with you. I can stand one or the other; not both.»
«No,» he said. «I need you.»
«I'm prepared to buy my way out.»
«How?»
«You've lost all your leads to 'Vorga,' haven't you?»
«And?»
«I've found another.»
«Where?»
«Never mind where. Will you agree to let me go if I turn it over to you?»
«I can take it from you.»
«Go ahead. Take it.» Her eyes flashed. «If you know what it is, you won't have any trouble.»
«I can make you give it to me.»
«Can you? After the bombing tonight? Try.»
He was taken aback by her defiance. «How do I know you're not bluffing?»
«I'll give you one hint. Remember the man in Australia?»
«Forrest?»
«Yes. He tried to tell you the names of the crew. Do you remember the only name he got out?»
«Kemp.»
«He died before he could finish it. The name is Kempsey.»
«That's your lead?»
«Yes. Kempsey. Name and address. In return for your promise to let me go.»
«It's a sale,» he said. «You can go. Give it to me.»
She went at once to the travel dress she had worn in Shanghai. From the pocket she took out a sheet of partially burned paper. «I saw this on Sergei Orel's desk when I was trying to put the fire out the fire the Burning Man started . . .»
She handed him the sheet of paper. It was a fragment Of a begging letter.
It read: . . . do anything to get out of these bacteria fields. Why should a man just because he can't jaunte get treated like a dog? Please help me, Serg. Help an old shipmate off a ship we don't mention. You can spare ~r 100. Remember all the favors I done you? Send ~r 200 or even ~r 50. Don't let me down.
Rodg Kempsey
Barrack 3
Bacteria, Inc.
Mare Nubium
Moon
«By God!» Foyle exclaimed. «This is the lead. We can't fail this time. We'll know what to do. He'll spill everything. . . everything.» He gri
«We?» Robin said. «You mean you.»
«I mean we,» Foyle answered. «We're going to the moon. Both of us.»
«I'm leaving.»
«You're not leaving. You're staying with me.»
«But you swore you'd…”
«Grow up, girl. I had to swear to anything to get this. I need you more than ever now. Not for 'Vorga.' I'll handle 'Vorga' myself. For something much more important.»
He looked at her incredulous face and smiled ruefully. «It's too bad, girl. If you'd given me this letter two hours ago I'd have kept my word. But it's too late now. I need a Romance Secretary. I'm in love with Olivia Presteign.»
She leaped to her feet in a blaze of fury. «You're in love with her? Olivia Presteign? In love with that white corpse!» The bitter fury of her telesending was a startling revelation to him. «Ah, now you have lost me. Forever. Now I'll destroy you!»
She disappeared.