“Positive. He will be of no use to you as a witness. I am the only one who can testify,” Elena said.

Mark shook his head. “You didn’t see the crime. We’ve already got evidence that you and Noyes were at the apartment at the time of the discorporation, but the best we could hope for from that would be to get a mindpick on Noyes. Which will come up blank. We couldn’t possibly get any court to grant a mindpick of Roditis on your suspicions alone. We’re stopped, Elena.”

“No! No! Fight, Mark! We all know Roditis was behind this murder! Put your best lawyers to work!” Mark smiled coolly. “You’d love to see Roditis ruined, wouldn’t you, Elena? But only because he turned you down. If he had slept with you, you’d be selling me out right and left, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t deal in ifs, Mark. I’ve told you the truth. You’re free to hate me, free to throw me aside, but don’t preach to me. All right?”

“All right, Elena. Will you go into that bedroom and wait there? I want to talk to Noyes now.”

“He’s here?”

“They’re holding him upstairs. Please stay out of sight while I’m questioning him.”

“You will get nothing from him. Nothing!”

“Please,” Mark said. Elena entered the bedroom and closed the door. Risa’s eyes met her father’s. Mark looked wearier than ever, but that strange Paul-like effect was even more pronounced. He appeared to be drawing on an inner reservoir of will.

He picked up the phone and asked to have Charles Noyes brought in.

Noyes edged into the room like a beast brought to bay by hounds. The strain was getting fearful. All the way back from Evansville he had pretended to Elena that he was Kravchenko, to keep her from turning on him again. And meanwhile Kravchenko had recovered from his shock and was awake again, fighting more strongly than ever to gain control, now that he had had a night’s taste of freedom.

Kravchenko hammered at Noyes’ forehead. Noyes’ clothing was pasted to his skin by the sweat of fear. His knees were watery. His eyes moved in quick birdlike flickers, nervously, warily. He knew he was caught, knew that all was over. Elena, in her fury with Roditis, was determined to spill everything. And he, unblanked, was caught in the middle, his mind full of unwanted knowledge that was sure to come out.

Guilty of willful discorporation. Sentenced to erasure. Not so bad, perhaps. Peace at last. No more turns of the wheel of karma. Oblivion, nirvana. At-one-ment.

Mark Kaufmann confronted him. The financier showed evidences of strain. His face was different, Noyes noticed immediately. Well, no doubt mine is, too. We’ve all been living on this anvil so long, taking blow after blow.

And there on the couch the daughter sat. Risa, the sexy little minx. She also looked different, older, shrewder, more predatory. They’ll devour me alive. Elena’s told them everything. I’ve been betrayed by all of them. Why is she doing this? Did Roditis turn her down? Why couldn’t he have bedded her? Why would he choose to antagonize her this way? Didn’t he see that by scorning her, he was inviting her to tell the story? I should have let him know that it was through Elena that I had gained access to St. John. But he hustled me off to be blanked while Kravchenko was still running me, and obviously Kravchenko didn’t tell him. And afterward there was no way I could, because I wasn’t supposed to know anything about the discorporation any more.

Kaufmann said, “I believe you’ve been in this apartment before, Mr. Noyes.”

“Well—”

“Recently. Last night, in fact. Isn’t that so?”

“Who gave you that idea?” Noyes said with his last shred of bravado.

“You came here late last evening in the company of Miss Elena Volterra,” Kaufmann said. “At your insistence she admitted you to the bedroom of Martin St. John. There, alone with him, you introduced a small but lethal quantity of a drug known as cyclophosphamide-8 into his metabolism, causing a speedy but horrible discorpor—”

“No!” Noyes screamed. “I didn’t do it! It isn’t so!”

“We have mindpick evidence against you.”

“You don’t! You’re bluffing!” Kaufmann said, “We have conclusive mindpick evidence of your guilt, Noyes. Enough to persuade the quaestorate to conduct a mindpick examination of your own memory bank, after which they’ll certainly recommend erasure. Of course, if you agree to testify voluntarily, and explain on whose behalf it was that you committed this foul crime, you may receive better treatment from the law.”

Noyes shook. Elena had told him everything, then. As he had expected her to do. He was trapped.

—Might as well make a clean breast of it, Kravchenko advised. “We’re prepared to recommend every leniency,” said Kaufmann in a soothing voice. “We understand that you were not acting as a free agent when you committed the discorporation of Martin St. John. If you’ll aid us in convicting the motivating force behind this crime—”

Of course, thought Noyes. That’s what you’re after, to nail Roditis! It figures. You don’t care about me any more than anyone else does.

He swayed. Waves of disorientation swept his brain. The world was spinning, the center did not hold, everything was shattering. Six Mark Kaufmanns faced him. Six Risas. His eyes would not focus. It seemed to him he heard Kravchenko’s vicious laughter, rising in volume, becoming a howl of triumph.

The flask of carniphage in Noyes’ breast pocket seemed to blaze against his skin.

Take it, he told himself. You’ve threatened to do it for so long — just self-dramatization, isn’t it? But now, this is the right moment. Pull it out, gulp it down. They’ve got you anyway. He talks of leniency, but he’s lying. You’ll be erased after you’ve been mindpicked. But at least you can save Roditis. There’s no solid evidence against him. Roditis is a bastard, but you owe him your loyalty, you always have, and if you drink the carniphage before Kaufmann gets anything out of you it’ll take Roditis off the hook.

—You’re a bigger fool than I think you are if you can worry about Roditis at a time like this, Kravchenko burst in.

Once again the persona had tapped his thoughts. The last time that had happened, it had signaled imminent ejection.

—Cook Roditis’ goose for him, Kravchenko urged. Tell Kaufmann everything you know. Why not? You don’t owe anything to Roditis except credit for wrecking you.

“No,” said Noyes. “I won’t.”

“You won’t what?” asked Mark Kaufmann. “I think he’s talking to his persona,” Risa said. “Look at his face! He’s cracking up!”

Noyes made a heavy gargling sound. It was beginning again: Kravchenko rising from captivity, uncoiling, filling his mind, grasping the levers of control.

“Stop it!” Noyes shrieked. “Let me alone! I won’t let you — get out of there—”

He was silent. Kravchenko said coolly, “If you don’t mind, Kaufmann, we’ll call this inquisition to a halt right now. I’d like to consult my lawyer. And I’ll answer the questions put to me by the quaestors, not by you. Is it understood?”

“It’s a different voice,” said Kaufmann. “A different persona. Calmer— the eyes—”

“Will you excuse me, please?” Kravchenko asked. “You’ve brought me here by abduction, and I intend to make you pay for it, but this kangaroo court is hereby adjourned. Don’t try to prevent me from leaving.”

He walked gracefully toward the door. Risa burst from her seat. “Dybbuk!” she yelled. “Don’t you see, the persona’s gone dybbuk right in front of us!”

The bedroom door opened. Elena appeared, pale, extending a quivering hand. She looked altogether confused. “Jim?” she said.

“Noyes? Which are you? What’s happening?”

“Quiet Elena!” Kravchenko said. In that moment Charles Noyes launched a desperate and instantly successful counterattack. Erupting from the corner of his own mind in which Kravchenko had penned him, Noyes sped through the neural wreckage within his skull, taking Kravchenko off guard. They grappled. Kravchenko, not as thoroughly in control as he had believed, was thrown from command, hurled down only moments after his brief triumph.