Vicky giggled. “Weird way to quit smoking, huh?”

He asked her if he could pick her up on the morning of the experiment, and she had agreed gratefully.

“It would be good to go into this with a friend,” she said, and looked at him with her direct blue eyes. “I really am a little scared, you know. George was so-I don’t know, adamant.”

“Why? What did he say?”

“That’s just it,” Vicky said. “He wouldn’t tell me anything, except that he didn’t trust Wanless. He said hardly anyone in the department does, but a lot of them sign up for his tests because he’s in charge of the graduate program. Besides, they know it’s safe, because he just weeds them out again.”

He reached across the table and touched her hand. “We’ll both probably get the distilled water, anyway,” he said. “Take it easy, kiddo. Everything’s fine.”

But as it turned out, nothing was fine. Nothing.

Albany albany airport mister hey mister, this is it we’re here.

Hand, shaking him. Making his head roll on his neck. Terrible headache-Jesus! Thudding, shooting pains.

“Hey mister, this is the airport.”

Andy opened his eyes, then shut them against the white light of an overhead sodium lamp. There was a terrible, shrieking whine, building up and up and up, and he winced against it. It felt as if steel darning needles were being jammed into his ears. Plane. Taking off: It began to come to him through the red fog of pain. Ah yes, Doc, it all comes back to me now.

“Mister?” The cabby sounded worried. “Mister, you okay?” “Headache.” His voice seemed to come from far away, buried in the jet-engine sound that was, mercifully, beginning to fade off. “What time is it?” “Nearly midnight. Slow haul getting up here. Don’t tell me, I’ll tell you. Buses won’t be running, if that was your plan. Sure I can’t take you home?”

Andy groped in his mind for the story he had told the cabby. It was important that he remember, monster headache or not. Because of the echo. If he contradicted the earlier story in any way, it could set up a ricochet effect in the cabby’s mind. It might die out-in fact, probably would-but it might not. The cabby might seize on one point of it, develop a fixation on it; shortly it would be out of control, it would be all the cabby could think about; shortly after that, it would simply tear his mind apart. It had happened before.

“My car’s in the lot,” he said. “Everything is under control.”

“Oh.” The cabby smiled, relieved. “Glyn isn’t gonna believe this, you know. Hey! Don’t tell me, I’ll t-”

“Sure she’ll believe it. You do, don’t you?”

The driver grinned widely. “I got the big bill to prove it, mister. Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Andy said. Struggle to be polite. Struggle to go on. For Charlie. If he had been alone, he would have killed himself long ago. A man wasn’t meant to bear pain like this.

“You sure you’re okay, mister? You look awful white.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” He began to shake Charlie. “Hey, kid.” He was careful not to use her name. It probably didn’t matter, but the caution came as naturally as breathing. “Wake up, we’re here.”

Charlie muttered and tried to roll away from him.

“Come on, doll. Wake up, hon.”

Charlie’s eyes fluttered open-the direct blue eyes she had got from her mother-

and she sat up, rubbing her face. “Daddy? Where are we?”

“Albany, hon. The airport.” And leaning closer, he muttered, “Don’t say anything yet.”

“Okay.” She smiled at the cab driver, and the cabby smiled back. She slipped out of the cab and Andy followed her, trying not to stagger.

“Thanks again, man,” the cabby said. “Listen, hey. Great fare. Don’t tell me, I’ll tell you.”

Andy shook the outstretched hand. “Take care.”

“I will. Glyn’s just not gonna believe this action.”

The cabby got back in and pulled away from the yellow-painted curb. Another jet was taking of, the engine revving and revving until Andy felt as though his head would split in two pieces and fall to the pavement like a hollow gourd. He staggered a little, and Charlie put her hands on his arm.

“Oh, Daddy,” she said, and her voice was far away.

“Inside. I have to sit down.”

They went in, the little girl in the red pants and the green blouse, the big man with the shaggy black hair and the slumped shoulders. A skycap watched them go and thought it was a pure sin, a big man like that out after midnight, drunk as a lord by the look of him, with his little girl who should have been in bed hours ago leading him around like a Seeing Eye dog. Parents like that ought to be sterilized, the skycap thought.

Then they went in through the electric-eye-controlled doors and the skycap forgot all about them until some forty minutes later, when the green car pulled up. to the curb and the two men got out to talk to him.

It was ten past midnight. The lobby of the terminal had been given over to the early-morning people: servicemen at the end of their leaves, harried-looking women riding herd on scratchy, up-too-late children, businessmen with pouches of weariness under their eyes, cruising kids in big boots and long hair, some of them with packs on their backs, a couple with cased tennis rackets. The loudspeaker system announced arrivals and departures and paged people like some omnipotent voice in a dream.

Andy and Charlie sat side by side at desks with TVs bolted to them. The TVs were scratched and dented and painted dead black. To Andy they looked like sinister, futuristic cobras. He plugged his last two quarters into them so they wouldn’t be asked to leave the seats. Charlie’s was showing a rerun of The Rookies and Johnny Carson was yucking it up with Sonny Bono and Buddy Hackett on Andy’s.

“Daddy, do I have to?” Charlie asked for a second time. She was on the verge of tears.

“Honey, I’m used up,” he said. “We have no money. We can’t stay here.”

“Those bad men are coming?” she asked, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

“I don’t know.” Thud, thud, thud in his brain. Not a riderless black horse anymore; now it was mailsacks filled with sharp scraps of iron being dropped on him from a fifth-story window. “We have to assume they are.”

“How could I get money?” He hesitated and then said, “You know.” The tears began to come and trickled down her cheeks. “It’s not right. It’s not right to steal.”

“I know it,” he said. “But it’s not right for them to keep coming at us, either. I explained it to you, Charlie. Or at least I tried.”

“About little bad and big bad?”

“Yes. Lesser and greater evil.”

“Does your head really hurt?”

“It’s pretty bad,” Andy said. There was no use telling her that in an hour, or possibly two, it would be so bad he would no longer be able to think coherently. No use frightening her worse than she already was. No use telling her that he didn’t think they were going to get away this time.

“I’ll try,” she said, and got out of the chair. “Poor Daddy,” she said, and kissed him.

He closed his eyes. The TV played on in front of, him, a faraway babble of sound in the midst of the steadily growing ache in his head. When he opened his eyes again, she was just a distant figure, very small, dressed in red and green, like a Christmas ornament, bobbing away through the scattered people on the concourse.

Please God, let her be all right, he thought. Don’t let anyone mess with her, or scare her worse than she is already. Please and thank you, God Okay?

He closed his eyes again.