Blythe's blue eyes were unfocused, staring wildly down at her husband, and Quinn was frowning like a white-haired Zeus. Several people came running to assist the fallen politician, and Quinn, recovering himself quickly, herded them down the steps.

"That was a pretty dirty blow," he rumbled as he waved down a passing taxi. "It's not very sporting to kick a man in the balls."

"I'm not interested in sporting. You fight to win, and failing that you die."

"Mighty strange world you come from if that's the code you're taught." He grunted again. "And, as if you don't have troubles enough, I can guarantee that Henry will sue for assault and battery."

"Consider yourself retained, Prescott," Blythe said, raising her head from Tach's shoulder. She was wedged tightly between the two men in the taxi, and Tach could feel the faint shivering that was still running through her body.

"Might be you should consider filing for divorce. Can't imagine why you didn't before now. "

"The children. I knew I'd never see them if I divorced Henry."

"Well, think about it."

"Where are we going?"

"The Mayflower. Nice hotel, you'll like it."

"I want to go to the station. We're going home."

"Wouldn't advise that. My gut is telling me this isn't over yet, and my belly is an infallible indicator."

"We've given our testimony."

"But Jack and Earl are still to come, Harstein has to testify again, and there might be something that would require you to be recalled. Let's just stick until the final hurrah. It'll save you a trip back if I'm right."

Tach grudgingly agreed, sinking back against the cushions to watch the city go by.

By Sunday night he was heartily sick of Washington, D.C., heartily sick of the Mayflower, and heartily sick of Quinn's doom and gloom prophecies. Blythe had tried to maintain the fantasy that they were having a lovely little vacation, and had dragged him about the city to gaze at marble buildings and meaningless statuary, but her dream world was shattered late Friday, when David was held to be in contempt of Congress and the case remanded to a grand jury.

The boy had huddled in their suite alternating between wild confidence that no indictment would be issued and fear that he would be convicted and imprisoned. The latter seemed the most likely, for he had been horribly abusive to the committee during that final day of testimony, even going so far as to compare them to Hitler's ruling elite. The climate was not forgiving. Tachyon had been driven nearly to distraction trying to suppress David's more vengeful plans against the committee, and trying to soothe Blythe, who seemed to have completely lost English as a first language, and spoke almost exclusively in German.

His efforts were not aided by the fact that they were under virtual siege in the room; surrounded and badgered by swarming reporters who were undeterred even after Blythe emptied a pot of hot coffee over one who had tried to enter while posing as room service. Only Quinn was permitted within their fortress, and he was so uniformly pessimistic that Tach was ready to pitch him out a window.

Now, as dawn was tinting the eastern sky, Tach lay listening to the even beating of Blythe's heart and the soft whisper of her breathing as she lay snuggled against his side.

Their lovemaking had been long and frenzied, as if she feared to lose contact with him. It had also been disturbing, for he had found a large amount of leak between the various personalities. He had tried to make her concentrate on a new construct, but she had been too emotionally fragmented to make it work. Only rest and a respite from the stress would restore the balance, and Tach vowed that committee or no committee they were leaving Washington that day.

A furious hammering on the door of their suite brought him plunging out of the bed at one that afternoon. Befuddled, he didn't even think of his dressing gown, but instead wrapped the bedspread about his waist and blundered to the door. It was Quinn, and the look on his face drove the last vestige of sleep from his mind.

"What? What's happened?"

"The worst. Braun's ruined you all."

"Huh?"

"Friendly witness. He's thrown you all to the wolyes to save himself." Tach sank into a chair. "That's not all, they're recalling Blythe."

"When? Why?"

"Tomorrow, right after Earl. Jack very generously volunteered the information that in addition to Von Braun and Einstein and all the rest of the eggheads, she also has your thoughts and memories. They want the names of those other aces, and if they can't get them from you, they'll get them from her."

"She'll refuse."

"She could go to jail."

"No… they wouldn't… not a woman." The attorney just shook his head.

"Do something. You're the lawyer. I refused first, let them send me to jail."

"There is another option."

"What?"

"Give them what they want."

"No, that is not an option. You must keep her out of that hearing room."

The old man gusted a sigh, and scratched furiously at his head until his hair stood out from his head like the quills on an outraged porcupine. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

It hadn't been enough, and on Tuesday morning they were back at the Capitol. Earl had marched in, taken the Fifth, and marched back out with an expression of utter contempt and disdain. He had expected nothing from the white man's government, and it hadn't disappointed him. Now it was Blythe's turn. At the door, two young Marine guards had tried to hold him back. He knew he was being unfair, lashing out at the wrong people, but their attempt to separate him from Blythe shattered his control, and he had brutally mindcontrolled them both. He had ordered them to sleep, and they were snoring by the time they hit the floor. That display of his power had a strong effect on several observers, and they quickly found a seat for him in the back of the room among the press corps. He had tried to remonstrate, wanting to be with Blythe, but this time it was Quinn who demurred.

"No, you sitting up there with her would be like a red flag to a bull. I'll take care of her."

"It's not just the legal thing. Her mind… it's very fragile right now." He jerked his head toward Rankin. "Don't let them hammer at her."

"I'll try."

"My darling." Her shoulders felt thin and bony beneath his hands, and when she raised her face to his, her eyes were like two darkened bruises in her white face. "Remember, their freedom and safety is riding on you. Please don't say anything."

"Don't worry, I won't," she said with a flash of her old spirit. "They're my patients too."

He watched her walk away, a hand resting lightly on Quinn's arm, and terror seized him. He wanted to rush after her, and hold her one more time. He wondered if the feeling was his errant precognition kicking in, or just a disordered mind?

"Now, Mrs. van Renssaeler, let's get the chronology set in all our minds, shall we?" said Rankin.

"All right."

"Now, when did you first discover you had this power?"

"February 1947."

"And when did you walk out on your husband, Congressman Henry van Renssaeler?" He hit the word Congressman hard, glancing quickly to the left and right to see how his colleagues took it.

"I didn't, he threw me out."

"And was that maybe because he had found out you were fooling around with another man, a man who isn't even human?"

"No!" cried Blythe.

"Objection!" shouted Quinn in the same breath. "This is not a divorce proceeding-"

"You have no grounds upon which to object, Mr. Quinn, and may I remind you that this committee has sometimes found it necessary to investigate the backgrounds of attorneys. One has to wonder why you fellows would choose to represent enemies of this nation."

"Because it is a tenet of Anglo-American law that a defendant have someone to shield him from the awesome might of the federal government-"