«Now, Jill…»

«Please take me home.»

Ben went for a cab. He did not order one from the restaurant but selected one from the landing flat of a hotel across the way. Jill remained chilly on the flight back. Ben got out the transcripts and reread them. He thought a while, and said, «Jill?»

«Yes, Mr. Caxton?»

«I'll “mister” you! Look, Jill, I apologize. I was wrong.»

«And what leads you to this conclusion?»

He slapped the papers against his palm. «This. Smith could not have shown this behavior yesterday and then given that interview tonight. He would have flipped his contols … gone into one of those trance things.»

«I am gratified that you have finally seen the obvious.»

«Jill, will you kindly kick me, then let up? Do you know what this means?»

«It means they used an actor to fake it. I told you an hour ago.»

«Sure. An actor and a good one, carefully typed and coached. But it implies more than that. As I see it, there are two possibilities. The first is that Smith is dead and — »

«Dead!» Jill was suddenly back in that curious water-drinking ceremony and felt the strange, warm, unworldly flavor of Smith's personality, felt it with unbearable sorrow.

«Maybe. In which case this ringer will stay “alive” as long as they need him. Then the ringer will “die” and they will ship him out of town, with a hypnotic injunction so strong he would choke up with asthma if he tried to spill it — or maybe even a lobotomy. But if Smith is dead, we can forget it; we'll never prove the truth. So let's assume he's alive.»

«Oh, I hope so!»

«What is Hecuba to you, or you to Hecuba?» Caxton misquoted. «If he is alive, it could be that there is nothing sinister about it. After all, public figures do use doubles. Perhaps in two or three weeks our friend Smith will be in shape to stand the strain of public appearance, then they will trot him out. But I doubt it like hell!»

«Why?»

«Use your head. Douglas has already failed one attempt to squeeze out of Smith what he wants. But Douglas can't afford to fail. So I think he will bury Smith deeper than ever… and we will never see the true Man from Mars.»

«Killhim?» Jill said slowly.

«Why be rough? Lock him in a private nursing home and never let him learn anything.»

«Oh, dear! Ben, what are we going to do?»

Caxton scowled. «They own the bat and ball and are making the rules. But I am going to walk in with a Fair Witness and a tough lawyer and demand to see Smith. Maybe I can drag it into the open.»

«I'll be right behind you!»

«Like mischief you will. As you pointed out, it would ruin you professionally.»

«But you need me to identify him.»

«Face to face, I can tell a man who was raised by non-humans from an actor pretending to be such. But if anything goes wrong, you are my ace in the hole — a person who knows that they are pulling hanky-panky and has access to the inside of Bethesda Center. Honey, if you don't hear from me, you are on your own.»

«Ben, they wouldn't hurt you?»

«I'm fighting out of my weight, youngster.»

«Ben, I don't like this. Look, if you get in to see him, what are you going to do?»

«I'll ask him if he wants to leave the hospital. If he says yes, I'm going to invite him to come with me. In the presence of a Fair Witness they won't dare stop him.»

«Uh … then what? He does need medical attention, Ben; he's not able to take care of himself.»

Caxton scowled again. «I've been thinking of that. I can't nurse him. We could put him in my flat — »

« — and I could nurse him. We'll do it, Ben!»

«Slow down. Douglas would pull some rabbit out of his hat and Smith would go back to pokey. And so would both of us, maybe.» He wrinkled his brow. «I know one man who might get away with it.»

«Who?»

«Ever heard of Jubal Harshaw?»

«Huh? Who hasn't?»

«That's one of his advantages; everybody knows who he is. It makes him hard to shove around. Being both a doctor of medicine and a lawyer he is three times as hard to shove. But most important, he is so rugged and individualist that he would fight the whole Federation with just a pocket knife if it suited him — and that makes him eight times as hard. I got acquainted with him during the disaffection trials; he is a friend I can count on. If I can get Smith out of Bethesda, I'll take him to Harshaw's place in the Pocorios-and then just let those jerks try to grab him! Between my column and Harshaw's love for a fight we'll give 'em a bad time.»

DESPITE A late evening Jill relieved as floor nurse ten minutes early. She intended to obey Ben's order to stay out of his attempt to see that Man from Mars but she planned to be close by. Ben might need reinforcements.

There were no guards in the corridor. Trays, medications, and two patients for surgery kept her busy for two hours; she had only time to check the door to suite K-12. It was locked, as was the door to the sitting room. She considered sneaking in through the sitting room, now that the guards were gone, but had to postpone it; she was busy. Nevertheless she kept close check on everyone who came onto her floor.

Ben did not show up and discreet questions asked of her assistant on the switchboard assured her that neither Ben nor anyone had gone into suite K-12 while Jill was elsewhere. It puzzled her; Ben had not set a time but he had intended to storm the citadel early in the day.

Presently she just had to snoop. During a lull she knocked at the door of the watch room, stuck her head in and pretended surprise. «Oh! Good morning, Doctor. I thought Doctor Frame was in here.»

The physician at the watch desk smiled as he looked her over. «I haven't seen him, Nurse. I'm Dr. Brush. Can I help?»

At the typical male reaction Jill relaxed. «Nothing special. How is the Man from Mars?»

«Eh?»

She smiled. «It's no secret to the staff, Doctor. Your patient — » She gestured at the inner door.

«Huh?» He looked startled. «Did they have him here?»

«Isn't he here now?»

«Not by six decimal places. Mrs. Rose Bankerson — Dr. Garner's patient. We brought her in early this morning.»

«Really? What happened to the Man from Mars?»

«I haven't the faintest. Say, did I really just miss seeing Valentine Smith?»

«He was here yesterday.»

«Some people have all the luck. Look what I'm stuck with.» He switched on the Peeping Tom above his desk; Jill saw in it a water bed; floating in it was a tiny old woman.

«What's her trouble?»

«Mmm … Nurse, if she didn't have money to burn, you might call it senile dementia. As it is, she is in for rest and a check-up.»

Jill made small talk, then pretended to see a call light. She went to her desk, dug out the night log — yes, there it was:V.M. Smith, K-12 — transfer.Below that was:Rose S. Bankerson (Mrs.) — red K-12 (diet kitchen instrd by Dr. Garner-no orders — flr nt respnbl)

Why had they moved Smith at night? To avoid outsiders, probably. But where had they taken him? Ordinarily she would have called «Reception,» but Ben's opinions plus the phony broadcast had made her jumpy; she decided to wait and see what she could pick up on the grapevine.

But first Jill went to the floor's public booth and called Ben. His office told her that Mr. Caxton had left town. She was startled speechless — then pulled herself together and left word for Ben to call.

She called his home. He was not there; she recorded the same message.

Ben Caxton had wasted no time. He retained James Oliver Cavendish. While any Fair Witness would do, the prestige of Cavendish was such that a lawyer was hardly necessary — the old gentleman had testified many times before the High Court and it was said that the wills locked up in his head represented billions. Cavendish had received his training in total recall from the great Dr. Samuel Renshaw and his hypnotic instruction as a fellow of the Rhine Foundation. His fee for a day was more than Ben made in a week, but Ben expected to charge it to the Post syndicate — the best was none too good for this job.