When Alec told Sylvia Mencken about the new contract, she flew into a furious rage and said she wouldn't sign. He tried to explain-as patiently as he could-that if they refused to sign the government could easily find someone else. The military owned the patents to the original designs and what they now wanted was only a minor modification. Anyone with a smattering of engineering ability could do it. Sylvia calmed down. She explained she had lost her temper because she was sick and tired of the work. She wanted them to have a chance to get away from the city for a few days-maybe even two weeks or a full month-a vacation---go somewhere where there weren't any soldiers or androids or beam guns.

Alec smiled and shook his head. "I don't think there is anyplace like that in the world any more."

"Well, we could try to find it."

"Well, we will. I promised the general I'd deliver the new design by dawn the day after tomorrow. After that, we can go, if the war doesn't catch us first."

"We'll run fast."

He had laughed.

And that was why he was here now-at one o'clock in the morning-doing what he was doing.

Somebody knocked at the door behind.

"Come in," Alec said, without turning around. He knew it had to be Sylvia. She had been in and out all night.

As soon as he heard the beat of her high heels clicking across the floor, he swiveled in his chair.

"Any progress?" she asked.

"Some."

"How much?"

He grinned and answered slowly. "I should be done in an hour or less. All I have to do is write it up."

Oddly, he thought he sensed a flash of radiated disappointment, but then her intense joy and pleasure smothered that. She clapped her hands together and said, "Oh, I'm glad."

"Me too. Now we can get out of here."

"Yes," she said, holding up her hands suddenly. He flinched backward but all it was was a shiny aluminum flask. "Coffee?"

"Sure-anything," he said.

"This is all we have." She leaned over, pouring coffee into his cup. Then she stood up, smiled quickly, and started to go out. Her radiated joy had barely been diminished.

"Wait," he said. She stopped, not turning. "I guess I might as well see him now."

"Are you sure?" She seemed concerned, fearful. "Why don't you just go out and tell me to get lost? I've tried but he just smiles and says it's official business. At one in the morning."

"I suppose he knows what he's doing. But I think I'd better see him." He sipped his coffee, ignoring as best he could the foul, bitter taste. Anna had always made real coffee-she had the beans imported directly from Colombia-and any artificial blend tasted like stagnant water in comparison. "I'll get rid of him as soon as I can, then finish the last of the project, call the army, and go home."

Sylvia opened her mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it. She turned and went out.

Alec swiveled back to his desk.

A few minutes later, the door opened once more and Sylvia came in followed by Inspector Cargill, who nodded vaguely at Alec, then stood in the middle of the room, rocking on the balls of his feet, blowing gently upon a steaming cup of coffee. When Sylvia left, he came over and leaned against Alec's desk. He was wearing a huge, heavy overcoat which concealed his body and shape like a thick winter hide.

"Quite a place you have here," he said, ambiguously.

"What do you mean by that?" Alec asked, leaning back in his chair, glaring up at Cargill.

"Oh, you know. From the front, this could be almost anything: lawyer's office, doctor, even a cop. But, back here-well, you can see-it's the place where a serious man works."

"I also have a laboratory I use."

"I am aware of that," Cargill said, defensively, as if his professional ability had been questioned.

"I thought you would be," Alec said, sighing. What did Cargill want? Were they going to have to sit like this for hours before the inspector got around to exposing his hand? There were times when Cargill never seemed to reach the subject, when he sat for long minutes, talking aimlessly, asking an occasional, usually senseless question, then suddenly standing up, bowing, smiling, leaving. Since the murder of Ted Mencken, Alec guessed he had been visited by Cargill an average of twice-a-month. He had no clear idea why. He didn't think Cargill suspected him of the murder any longer-if he ever had; it should have been plain enough by now that Alec was innocent. Cargill himself had never changed. His mind remained as taut and controlled as ever. He made Alec no less uncomfortable than the first time they had met. And there was still the matter of Timothy Ralston's murder. He was convinced-despite the dying man's denial-that Cargill was somehow involved. Exactly how, he did not, of course, know.

"How is your wife-Anna?" Cargill asked, his eyes peeping over the edge of his high coat collar. He had intercepted Alec's next line of thought. "I haven't seen her lately."

"She left me nearly eight months ago," Alec said. "Don't tell me you didn't know that."

"I saw one of her tape sculptures recently," Cargill went on, oblivious to Alec's interruption. "An older work, I believe. An excellent piece-quite fine-moving-beautiful."

"Not Crime and Punishment?" Alec asked, sarcastically.

"Oh, no. This was a wholly original composition. But no less remarkable for that. Your wife is an extremely talented woman, Mr. Richmond. My own, as you may know, is dead."

"I didn't know, but I'm sorry."

"But exactly where is your wife now?"

"I told you. She left me."

"But you've seen her more recently than eight months." He removed a pocket notebook from his overcoat and flipped the pages slowly. "Ah-here it is. She was last seen at your house two months ago-somewhat less than that." He slammed the notebook shut and gazed at Alec expectantly.

A wave of guilt consumed Alec. He tried to shrug it off. Why should he feel guilty? He deliberately told Cargill the truth: "Anna and I don't hate each other. We don't see any reason to attempt to ignore each other."

"As you may know, your wife employed me to do a bit of detecting for her. I undertook the mission in all good conscience. However, sometime after beginning the job, she suddenly refused to answer any of my calls. I received a brief note thanking me for my work and expressing a lack of need to see me again. I was, of course, rather puzzled."

"I-I didn't know about any of this," Alec said. So that was why Ralston had seen Anna and Cargill together before the Mencken murder. "What was this job she hired you for?"

Cargill went on, pretending that he had not heard Alec: "So you can see why I'm interested, concerned. Why I'd like to know where she is now."

"She's with friends," Alec said.

"Where?"

"Oh, back East someplace."

"The Atlantic coast?"

"No, not that far. The Middle West someplace. Wyoming, Colorado."

"How did she get there? The tube?"