I had discovered all this and had instantly forgotten it. Angelina had not. I knew that my fate was sealed, my goose well—cooked, served and carved, when she stopped in front of the hall mirror one day just before we left for dinner. She patted her immaculately groomed hair as women are wont to do—then leaned closer. Touching the corner of one eye with a delicate fingertip.

“Jim—is that a line, right here?”

“Of course not. Just the way the light is falling.”

Even as I spoke these polite, truthful and simple words my thoughts were briskly whirring forwards. Years of happy marriage had taught me one important fact—if not a lot of important facts. Women speak with many levels of meaning. As simple a question as Are you hungry? can mean I am hungry. Or have you forgotten we have a dinner appointment? Or I’m not hungry but I’m sure you will be bothering me about lunch soon. Or any other of countless convoluted interpretations. So a possible line in the corner of an eye, following soon after a simple query about Lussuoso and the chance appearance of a gilt brochure on the end table could mean only thing. I smiled.

“I am beginning to feel that this world has worn out its welcome and is starting to bore more than a little. Have you ever thought of passing a spell on, I don’t know, some grander and more exciting planet?”

She whirled about and kissed me enthusiastically. “Jim—you must be a mind reader! What do you think about…”

I really didn’t have much to think about. Other than remembering long—forgotten bank accounts.

But it had been well worth it. For awhile. Angelina absented herself from time to time—but we never discussed the rejuvenation treatments. I am forced to admit that, after noting my touches of gray hair, as well as a slight tendency to be short of breath after serious exercise, I was not that adverse to a medical session or two myself. After all I was paying for it. And Lussuoso was as jolly and entertaining as the brochures had said. Our house was lovely and our friends lovelier still. I don’t know how beautiful these people had been before they had become beautiful people—but they were sure good to look at now. Neither age shall wither nor time detract. They used to say that money couldn’t buy everything, but this cliche had long been extinct. On Lussuoso they were all young, handsome and rich. Or rather rich first—therefore young and handsome.

It did not take me long to discover that they were also boring beyond belief.

Making a lot of money seems to produce people who care only about making money.

Now I am not a snob—far from it. My circle of friends and acquaintances contains weird and wonderful examples from all walks of life. Conmen and connoisseurs. Forgers and foresters, police and politicians, scientists and psalm singers. All of them entertaining and good company in a variety of strange and interesting ways.

Yet after a month on Lussuoso I was ready for anything but more of Lussuoso. Suicide perhaps, or back into the army again, maybe swimming in a lake of sulfuric acid; any of these would be preferable.

But I bided my time and increased my drinking for two reasons. Firstly I had paid a satellite—sized bundle for the medical treatments and I was going to get my money’s worth. Secondly, and more importantly, Angelina was having an incredibly good time. Our lifestyle had previously prevented her from having female acquaintances or close lady friends. Her early and murderous life, before the psych treatments that had turned her into a more civilized, though still criminal, person, was far in the past and hopefully forgotten. We never discussed those early years when I—for a rare change—was on the side of law enforcement. And she was a criminal on the run. A very nasty criminal indeed and I could not understand how one so beautiful could be so devious and cruel. Until she trusted me, perhaps she loved me even then, and had opened the locket with the secret of her past. Her beauty had been the product of the surgeon’s knife. That had changed her from what she had been to how she looked now. Only her criminal existence had enabled her to pay for the operations. Because of this, and our extra—legal standard of living, we might have had a lonely existence in many ways. We had not led a solitary life, but it had—certainly been a different kind of life from the normal ones led by the other 99. 99 percent of mankind.

Having the twins had been a novel experience for both of us. One that I had not looked forward to with a great deal of enthusiasm. But I had changed, for the better Angelina always said, and she should know. When the boys were growing up we had seen that they had received the best education. We had discussed it a lot and had finally agreed that they could choose the style of, life that most appealed to them. In all fairness, when they were old enough, we had introduced them to some of the more interesting aspects of our lifestyle. I am happy to say that they took to it instantly. All of this kept us busy enough and. since Angelina had never had any close friends, she apparently had never missed the acquaintance of those of the fairer sex. Now she had them in abundance.

They went out together and did things together. Just what I was never quite sure. But she—and they—did enjoy themselves. She had even mentioned lightly, and oh howl wish I had listened more closely, the Temple of Eternal Truth. She hadn’t seemed terribly interested but had gone there at a friend’s insistence.

Now this. I sipped long and hard at my drink and resisted a refill.

“DiGriz here,” I called out at the instant the communicator buzzed.

“It is Captain Collin, Admiral. We have some more—and very puzzling—infonnation about the Temple of Eternal Truth. Do you think you could come to my office…”

I was out the door even while he was still speaking.

“What have you found out?” I asked brusquely as I stamped into Captain Cohn’s office. He was speaking on the phone and he raised his hand signing me to wait.

“Yes. Thank you. I understand.” He hung up. “That was the hospital. It seems that Mrs. Vinicultura is suffering from post—traumatic amnesia—”

“She’s forgotten everything that happened?”

“Precisely. There are techniques that could get access to those memories but their application must wait until she has recovered from the shock.”

“That’s not why you called me here?”

“No.” He ran his finger around inside his collar and—if it were possible for an overmuscled police captain to look embarrassed—he looked embarrassed.

“Here on Lussuoso we pride ourselves on our security and the thoroughness of our records.

“Which means,” I interrupted, “your security has been penetrated and your records are doubtful?”

He opened his mouth to rebut me. Then closed it and slumped in his chair. “You’re right. But it has never happened before.”

“Once is once too often. Tell me about it.”

“It is this Temple of Eternal Truth. It appears to have been duly registered as a qualified religion. They kept accurate records and reported regularly on their financial position, though of course like all religions they pay no taxes. Everything seemed quite aboveboard. The directors are on record and, most discreetly of course, we know about all of its members.”

“All about? Would you like to explain that?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Well, like any civilized planet we practice the galactic constant of complete freedom of religion. You have heard of the Interstellar Freedom of Religion Act?”

“Vaguely, in school.”

“The Act is not vague. The history of religion is a history of violence. Only too often religion kills, and we have had enough killing. Therefore no state or planet can have an official religion. Neither can a state or planet make any laws controlling religion. Freedom of worship and assembly is essential to civilization.”