He spoke quickly to a hovercab driver, then came back and fetched Sylvia.

Once the cab was airborne in the direction of Golden Gate Park, the driver asked Alec: "Any particular place in the park?"

Sylvia said, "Strawberry Hill."

"The top of the hill or beside the lake?"

"The lake. We can climb."

Alec rarely visited the park on his own. Even Anna did not care for it. The existence of so much raw nature in the midst of the concrete city seemed somehow improper-artificial-filled with conflict.

But, this time, as soon as he and Sylvia left the cab, he relaxed. It was another gorgeous day. A west wind, floating off the ocean, blew smooth and mild. Sylvia's feelings, as they reached him, were equally serene. He guessed she came here often.

The lake where they had set down was a wide moat encircling a high, tree-studded hill. A fleet of electric runabouts gently stirred the waters. Sylvia, in silence, led Alec over a wooden bridge to the edge of the hill. A dirt road ran here, sloping upward as it circled the hill. "I like walking here," she said. "The hill and trees on one side-the boats and water on the other."

He nodded in agreement. They moved up the dirt road. A bird, perched high in a tree, shrieked as they passed beneath. Alec shivered, reminded of the night before.

At last Sylvia spoke: "I imagine I owe you an apology."

"Oh, no," he said.

"But I did ask if you had killed Father."

"There's nothing wrong in asking that." A cluster of camera-laden tourists passed them. Alec felt their eyes. He was proud of himself, walking with such a beautiful woman. "Cargill thinks I did it. Why shouldn't you?"

"Cargill?" She smiled and touched his hand reassuringly. "What makes you think that?"

"The questions he asked me. That speech he made."

"Oh, that was nothing. He doesn't suspect you."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course. I asked him. He told me you hadn't done it. Naturally, I had to know before going on with the rest."

"The rest?"

"The firm. Father's work. Perhaps you haven't thought of it, but I am your boss now. And I don't happen to know what you and he were doing."

He hesitated before answering.

"I have a card." She reached into a pocket of her gown and showed him a red badge.

"How did you ever get that?"

"Father," she said. "At one time he and I were very close but I'm afraid-the last few months-we drew apart. That's why I need to know what you were doing."

"Androids," he answered, lowering his voice to a whisper, although they were quite alone.

"I know that much."

"A new model. Capable of being-well-soldiers. Ground soldiers. In the thick of battle."

She laughed in appreciation. "How ingenious. An army that cannot be killed. How close were you to completion?"

"The contract was signed yesterday. We've produced several prototypes and had intended to begin mass production as soon as the check cleared."

Again, her hand went into her pocket. She waved a sheet of yellow paper at him.

"Here it is."

"You got it?" he asked, astonished.

"You think I'm callous but-well, Father's work was all he had."

"He died for it."

"You think spies killed him?"

He shook his head, determined to avoid the easy lie. "I hope you're not determined to continue his work."

"But I am. Aren't you?"

He shook his head. "I've given it a lot of thought. Did you know-I don't suppose you did-that Ted was having second thoughts himself? Two nights ago we had an awful argument. I think what happened was that Ted finally realized the significance of our work. With these androids, war is no longer an unthinkable proposition. It tips the scales-the balance of power-our way. Ted saw this and it frightened him. He knew what it would mean and it disgusted him."

"But he signed the contract. I saw it."

"Yes, because I made him."

"You?"

"Yes." Alec pointed at a wooden bench set against the high dirt cliff. "Why don't we sit down?" They were halfway up the hill. Another cluster of tourists sped past them.

"Your father wasn't a strong man," Alec said.

"No," she said. "But all of that is past. I'm going to take over the firm. And I want you to help me." Her grief had totally faded now. Instead, her thoughts were as analytical and calculating as any Cargill had had. But he could also tell that she was speaking the truth.

"I don't know," he said.

"It will make you rich."

"I know that."

"But I don't want to rush you. I'll give you a week. It will take that long for the government to intervene with the courts and see that the will is promptly settled."

He had seen no way of bringing this up before, and there was no way now either-but keeping the truth from her did not seem fair. "You may be risking your life," he said.

"But you told me-"

"I said they weren't spies. They weren't. But these people..." There was no way he could explain any more fully.