On the eighth day, Powell arose, bathed, dressed, successfully defeated his nurses in single combat, and left the house. He made one stop at Sucre et Cie, emerged with a large mysterious parcel and then proceeded to headquarters to make his personal report to Commissioner Crabbe. On the way up, he poked his head into Beck's office.

"Hi, Jax."

"Bless (and curses) ings, Linc."

"Curses?"

"Bet fifty they'd keep you in bed till next Wed."

"You lose. Did Mose back us up on the D'Courtney motive?"

"Lock, stock & barrel. Trial took one hour. Reich's going into Demolition now."

"Good. Well, I'd better go up and s-p-e-l-l it out for Crabbe."

"What you got under your arm?"

"Present."

"For me?"

"Not today. Here's thinking at you."

Powell went up to Crabbe's ebony and silver office, knocked, heard the imperious: "Come!" and entered. Crabbe was properly solicitous, but stiff. The D'Courtney Case had not improved his relations with Powell. The denouement had come as an additional blow.

"It was a remarkably complex case, sir," Powell began tactfully. "None of us could understand it, and none of us are to blame. You see, Commissioner, even Reich himself was not consciously aware of why he had murdered D'Courtney. The only one who grasped the case was the Prosecution Computer, and we thought it was acting kittenish."

"The machine? It understood?"

"Yes, sir. When we ran our final data through the first time, the Computer told us that the 'pa.s.sion motive' was insufficiently doc.u.mented. We'd all been a.s.suming profit motive. So had Reich. Naturally we a.s.sumed the Computer was having kinks, and we insisted on computation based on the profit motive. We were wrong..."

"And that infernal machine was right?"

"Yes, Commissioner. It was. Reich told himself that he was killing D'Courtney for financial reasons. That was his psychological camouflage for the real pa.s.sion motive. And it couldn't hold up. He offered merger to D'Courtney. D'Courtney accepted. But Reich was subconsciously compelled to misunderstand the message. He had to. He had to go on believing he murdered for money."

"Why?"

"Because he couldn't face the real motive..."

"Which was... ?"

"D'Courtney was his father."

"What!" Crabbe stared. "His father? His flesh and blood?"

"Yes, sir. It was all there before us. We just couldn't see it... because Reich couldn't see it. That estate on Callisto, for instance. The one that Reich used to decoy Dr. Jordan off the planet. Reich inherited it from his mother who'd received it from D'Courtney. We all a.s.sumed Reich's father had chiseled it out of D'Courtney and placed it in his wife's name. We were wrong. D'Courtney had given it to Reich's mother because they were lovers. It was his love-gift to the mother of his child. Reich was born there. Jackson Beck uncovered all that, once we had the lead."

Crabbe opened his mouth, then closed it.

"And there were so many other signposts. D'Courtney's suicide drive, produced by intense guilt sensations of abandonment. He had abandoned his son. It was tearing him apart. Then, Barbara D'Courtney's deep half-twin image of herself and Ben Reich; somehow she knew they were half-brother and sister. And Reich's inability to kill Barbara at Chooka Frood's. He knew it too, deep down in the unconscious. He wanted to destroy the hateful father who had rejected him, but he could not bring himself to harm his sister."

"But when did you unearth all this?"

"After the case was closed, sir. When Reich attacked me for setting those b.o.o.by-traps."

"He claimed you did. He--- But if you didn't, Powell, who did?"

"Reich himself, sir."

"Reich!"

"Yes, sir. He murdered his father. He discharged his hatred. But his super-ego... his conscience, could not permit him to go unpunished for such a horrible crime. Since the police apparently were unable to punish him, his conscience took over. That was the meaning of Reich's nightmare image... The Man With No Face."

"The Man With No Face?"

"Yes, Commissioner. It was the symbol of Reich's real relationship to D'Courtney. The figure had no face because Reich could not accept the truth... that he had recognized D'Courtney as his father. The figure appeared in his dreams when he made the decision to kill his father. It never left him. It was first the threat of punishment for what he contemplated. Then it became the punishment itself for the murder."

"The b.o.o.by-traps?"

"Exactly. His conscience had to punish him. But Reich had never admitted to himself that he murdered because he hated D'Courtney as the father who had rejected and abandoned him. Therefore, the punishment had to take place on the unconscious level. Reich set those traps for himself without ever realizing it... in his sleep, somnambulistically... during the day, in short fugues... brief departures from conscious reality. The tricks of the mind-mechanism are fantastic."

"But if Reich himself knew none of this... how did you get at it, Powell?"

"Well, sir. That was the problem. We couldn't get it by peeping him. He was hostile and you have to have complete cooperation from a subject to get that kind of material. It takes months anyway. Also, if Reich recovered from the series of shocks he'd had, he would be able to readjust, reorient, and become immune to us. That was dangerous, too, because he was in a position of power to rock the solar system. He was one of those rare World-Shakers whose compulsions might have torn down our society and irrevocably committed us to his own psychotic pattern."

Crabbe nodded.

"He very nearly succeeded. These men appear every so often... links between the past and the future. If they are permitted to mature... If the link is permitted to weld... The world finds itself chained to a dreadful tomorrow."

"Then what did you do?"

"We used the Ma.s.s Cathexis Measure, sir. It's difficult to explain, but I'll do my best. Every human being has a psyche composed of latent and capitalized energy. Latent energy is our reserve... the untapped natural resources of our mind. Capitalized energy is that latent energy which we call up and put to work. Most of us use only a small portion of our latent energy."

"I understand."

"When the Esper Guild uses the Ma.s.s Cathexis Measure, every Esper opens his psyche, so to speak, and contributes his latent energy to a pool. One Esper alone taps this pool and becomes the ca.n.a.l for the latent energy. He captilizes it and puts it to work. He can accomplish tremendous things... if he can control it. It's a difficult and dangerous operation. About on a par with jetting to the moon with a stick of dynamite stuck---er---riding on dynamite sticks..."

Suddenly Crabbe grinned. "I wish I were a peeper," he said. "I'd like to get the real image in your mind."

"You've got it already, sir." Powell grinned back. A rapport had been established between them for the first time.

"It was necessary," Powell continued, "to confront Reich with The Man With No Face. We had to make him see the truth before we could get the truth. Using the pool of latent energy, I built a common neurotic concept for Reich... the illusion that he alone in the world was real."

"Why, I've---Is that common?"

"Oh yes, sir. It's one of the run-of-the-mill escape patterns. When life gets tough, you tend to take refuge in the idea that it's all make-believe... a giant hoax. Reich had the seeds of that weakness in him already. I simply forced them and let Reich defeat himself. Life was getting tough for him. I persuaded him to believe that the universe was a hoax... a puzzle-box. Then I tore it down, layer by layer. I made him believe that the test was ended. The puzzle was being dismantled. And I left Reich alone with The Man With No Face. He looked into the face and saw himself and his father... and we had everything."

Powell picked up his parcel and arose. Crabbe jumped up and escorted him to the door with a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"You've done a phenomenal job, Powell. Really phenomenal. I can't tell you... It must be a wonderful thing to be an Esper."

"Wonderful and terrible, sir."

"You must all be very happy."

"Happy?" Powell paused at the door and looked at Crabbe. "Would you be happy to live your life in a hospital, Commissioner?"

"A hospital?"

"That's where we live... All of us. In the psychiatric ward. Without escape... without refuge. Be grateful you're not a peeper, sir. Be grateful that you only see the outward man. Be grateful that you never see the pa.s.sions, the hatreds, the jealousies, the malice, the sicknesses... Be grateful you rarely see the frightening truth in people. The world will be a wonderful place when everyone's a peeper and everyone's adjusted... But until then, be greatful you're blind."

He left headquarters, hired a Jumper and was jetted North toward KingstonHospital. He satin the cabin with the parcel on his knees, gazing down at the magnificent HudsonValley, whistling a crooked tune. Once he grinned and muttered: "Wow! That was some line I handed Crabbe. But I had to cement our relations. Now he'll feel sorry for peepers... and friendly."

KingstonHospital came into view... acre upon rolling acre of magnificent landscaping. Solariums, pools, lawns, athletic fields, dormitories, clinics... all in exquisite neo-cla.s.sic design. As the Jumper descended, Powell could make out the figures of patients and attendants... all bronzed, active, laughing, playmg. He thought of the vigilant measures the Board of Governors was forced to take to prevent Kingston Hospital from becoming another s.p.a.celand. Too many fashionable malingerers were already attempting to obtain admission.

Powell checked in at the Visitors Office, found Barbara D'Courtney's location and started across the grounds. He was weak, but he wanted to leap hedges, vault gates, run races. He had awakened after seven days' exhaustion with a question---one question to ask Barbara. He felt exhilarated.

They saw one another at the same moment. Across a broad stretch of lawn flanked by field-stone terraces and brilliant gardens. She flew toward him, waving, and he ran toward her. Then as they approached, both were stricken with shyness. They stopped a few feet apart, not daring to look at each other.

"h.e.l.lo."

"h.e.l.lo, Barbara."

"I... Let's get into the shade, shall we?"

They turned toward the terrace wall. Powell glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was alive again... alive as he had never seen her before. And her urchin expression---the expression that he had imagined was a phase of her Deja eprouve development was still there. She looked inexpressively mischievous, high-spirited, fascinating. But she was adult. He did not know her.

"I'm being discharged this evening," Barbara said.

"I know."

"I'm terribly grateful to you for all you've---"

"Please don't say that."

"For all you've done," Barbara continued firmly. They sat down on a stone bench. She looked at him with grave eyes. "I want to tell you how grateful I am."

"Please, Barbara. You're terrifying me."

"Am I?"

"I knew you so intimately as... well, as a child. Now..."

"Now I'm grown up again."

"Yes."

"You must get to know me better." She smiled graciously. "Shall we say... Tea tomorrow at five?"

"At five..."

"Informal. Don't dress."

"Listen," Powell said desperately. "I helped dress you more than once. And comb your hair. And brush your teeth."

She waved her hand airily.

"Your table manners were a caution. You liked fish but you hated lamb. You hit me in the eye with a chop."

"That was ages ago, Mr. Powell."

"That was two weeks ago, Miss D'Courtney."

She arose with magnificent poise. "Really Mr. Powell. I feel it would be best to end the interview. If you feel impelled to cast chronographical aspersions..." She stopped and looked at him. The urchin appeared again in her face. "Chronographical?" she inquired.

He dropped the parcel and caught her in his arms.

"Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell, Mr. Powell..." she murmured. "h.e.l.lo, Mr. Powell... "

"My G.o.d, Barbara... Baba, dear. For a moment I thought you meant it."

"I was paying you back for being grown up."

"You always were a revengeful kid."

"You always were a mean daddy." She leaned back and looked at him. "What are you really like? What are we both like? Will we have time to find out?"

"Time?"

"Before... Peep me. I can't say it."

"No, dear. You'll have to say it."

"Mary Noyes told me. Everything."

"Oh. She did?"

Barbara nodded. "But I don't care. I don't care. She was right. I'll settle for anything. Even if you can't marry me..."

He laughed. The exhilaration bubbled out of him. "You won't have to settle for anything," he said. "Sit down. I want to ask you one question."

She sat down. On his lap.

"I have to go back to that night," he said.

"In Beaumont House?"

He nodded.