"h.e.l.lo, remember me?" She tried to keep her tone light, but there was a fearful intensity about her.

"Of . . . of course. Come in."

She didn't move. "I've got a suitcase."

"So I see."

"I've been thrown out."

"You can still come in . . . suitcase and all."

"I don't want you to feel . . . well, trapped."

He tucked the gardenia behind her ear, removed the case from her hand, and pulled her in. The flounces of her pale, peach-colored silk dress brushed against his legs, pulling the hair upright at the electric contact. Women's fashion was a pet hobby with Tachyon, and he noticed that the dress was a Dior original, the ankle-length skirt held out by a number of chiffon petticoats. He realized he could probably span her waist with his hands. The bodice was supported by two thin straps, leaving most of her back bare. He liked the way her shoulder blades moved beneath the white skin. There was an answering movement from within his jockey shorts.

Embarra.s.sed, he darted for the closet. "Let me put on some pants. Water's ready for tea, and turn down that record."

"Do you take milk or lemon in your tea?"

"Neither. I take it over ice. I'm about to die." He padded across the room, tucking in the shirt.

"It's a lovely day."

"It's a lovely hot hot day. My planet is a good deal cooler than yours." day. My planet is a good deal cooler than yours."

Her eyes flickered away, and she plucked at a wisp of hair. "I know you're an alien, but it seems strange to talk about it."

"Then we won't." He busied himself with the tea while studying her surrept.i.tiously from the corner of one eye. "You seem very composed for a woman who's just been thrown out," he finally remarked.

"I had my hoo in the back of a taxi." She smiled sadly. "Poor man, he thought he had a real nut on his hands. Especially since-" She cut off abruptly, using the acceptance of the cup as a way to avoid his searching gaze.

"Not complaining, mind you, but why did you . . . er . . ."

"Come to you?" She drifted across the room and turned down the phonograph. "This is a very sad part." He forced his attention back to the music and realized it was the farewell scene between Violetta and Alfredo. "Uh . . . yes, it is."

She spun to face him and her eyes were haunted. "I came to you because Earl is too absorbed with his causes and marches and strikes and actions, and David, poor boy, would have been terrified at the thought of acquiring a hysterical older woman. Archibald would have urged me to patch things up and stay with Henry-fortunately, he wasn't home when I went by, but Jack was and he wanted me . . . well, far too badly."

He shook his head like a stallion bedeviled by gnats. "Blythe, who are these people?"

"How can you be so ill-informed," she teased, and struck a dramatic pose-so dramatic that it made a mockery of the words. "We are the Four Aces." Suddenly she began to shake, sending tea sloshing over the rim of the cup. are the Four Aces." Suddenly she began to shake, sending tea sloshing over the rim of the cup.

Tach crossed to her, took the cup, and held her against his chest. Her tears formed a warm, wet patch on his shirt, and he reached out for her mind, but she seemed to sense his intent, and pushed him violently away.

"No, don't, not until I explain what I've done. Otherwise you're likely to get a terrific shock." He waited while she removed an embroidered handkerchief from her purse, gave her nose a resolute blow, and patted at her eyes. When she again raised her head she was calm, and he admired her dignity and control. "You must think me a typical scatter-brained female. Well, I won't bore you anymore. I'll start at the beginning and be quite logical."

"You left without saying good-bye," he broke in.

"Archibald thought it best, and when he's being fatherly and commanding, I've never been able to say no to him." Her mouth worked. "Not about anything. When he learned what I could do, he told me that I had a great gift. That I could preserve priceless knowledge. He urged me to join his group."

He snapped his fingers. "Earl Sanderson, and Jack Braun."

"That's right."

He bounded up and paced the room. "They were involved in something down in Argentina, and in capturing Mengele and Eichmann, but four four?"

"David Harstein, otherwise known as the Envoy-"

"I know him, I treated him only a few . . . never mind, go on."

"And me." She smiled with a little girl's embarra.s.sment. "Brain Trust."

He sank back down on the couch, and stared at her. "What has he . . . what have you you done." done."

"Used my talent the way Archibald advised. Want to know anything about relativity, rocket technology, nuclear physics, biochemistry?"

"He's been sending you around the country absorbing minds," he said. Then he exploded. "Who in the h.e.l.l do you have in your head?"

She joined him on the sofa. "Einstein, Salk, Von Braun, Oppenheimer, Teller, and Henry of course, but I'd like to forget about that." She smiled. "And that's the crux of the problem. Henry didn't take kindly to a wife with several n.o.bel prizewinners in her head, much less a wife who knew where all his skeletons were buried, so this morning he threw me out. I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't for the children. I don't know what he's going to tell them about their mother, and-oh d.a.m.n," she whispered, banging her fists on her knees. "I will not not start crying again. start crying again.

"Anyway, I was trying to think of what to do. I had just wrestled free from Jack, and was bawling in the back of a taxi, when I thought of you." Suddenly Tachyon became aware that she was speaking German. He bit down hard, forcing his tongue against the roof of his mouth to hold back nausea. "It's silly, but in some ways I feel closer to you than I do to anyone else in the world; which is strange when you consider that you're not even from this world."

Her smile was half siren, half Mona Lisa, but there was no answering physical and emotional response. He was too sickened and angry. "Sometimes I don't understand you people at all! Have you no conception of the dangers inherent in this virus?"

"No, how can I?" she interrupted. "Henry took us out of the city within hours of the crisis, and we didn't return until he thought the danger was past." She was back to English again.

"Well, he was wrong, wasn't he!"

"Yes, but that's not my fault!"

"I'm not saying it is!"

"Then what are you so angry about?"

"Holmes," he ejected. "You called him fatherly, but if he had had any affection for you at all, he would not have encouraged you in this mad course."

"What is so mad about it? I'm young, many of these men are old. I'm preserving priceless knowledge."

"At the risk of your own sanity."

"You taught me-"

"You're a human! You're not trained to handle the stress of high-level mentatics. The techniques I taught you in the hospital to keep your personality separate from your husband's were inadequate, nowhere near strong enough."

"Then teach me what I need to know. Or cure me."

The challenge brought him up short. "I can't . . . at least not yet. The virus is h.e.l.lishly complex, working out a counter strain to nullify . . ." He shrugged. "To trump the wild card, if you will, may take me years. I'm one man working alone."

"Then I'll go back to Jack." She picked up the case, and lurched toward the door. It was an oddly compelling mixture of dignity and farce as the heavy bag pulled her off balance. "And if I should go mad, perhaps Archibald will find me a good psychiatrist. After all, I am one of the Four Aces."

"Wait . . . you can't just go."

"Then you'll teach me?"

He dug thumb and middle finger into the corners of his eyes, and gave the bridge of his nose a hard squeeze. "I'll try." The case hit the floor, and she slowly approached him. He warded her off with his free hand. "One last thing. I'm not a saint, nor one of your human monks." He gestured toward the curtained alcove that held his bed. "Someday I'll want you."

"So what's wrong with now?" She pushed aside the restraining hand, and molded her body to his. It was not a particularly lush body. In fact, it could have been described as meager, but any fault he might have found vanished as her hands cupped his face and pulled his lips down to meet hers.

"A lovely day." Tachyon sighed with satisfaction, scrubbed at his face with his hand, and stripped off his socks and underwear.

Blythe smiled at him from the bathroom mirror where she stood creaming her face. "Any earth male who heard you say that would decide you were certifiably insane. A day spent in the company of an eight-year-old, a five-year-old, and a three-year-old is not held to be a high treat by most men."

"Your men are stupid." He stared off into s.p.a.ce, for a moment remembering the feel of sticky hands in his pockets as a bevy of tiny cousins searched for the treats he carried there, the press of a soft, plump baby cheek against his when he went away promising most faithfully to come again soon and play come again soon and play.

He pushed back the past, and found her intently regarding him. "Homesick?"

"Thinking."

"Homesick."

"Children are a joy and a delight," he said hurriedly before she could reopen their ongoing argument. Picking up a brush, he pulled it through his long hair. "In fact, I've often wondered if yours aren't changlings or if you cuckolded old Henry from the beginning."

Six months ago, when Blythe had been thrown from the house, van Renssaeler had instructed the servants to refuse entrance to his estranged wife, thus barring her from her children. Tach had quickly remedied that situation. Every week, when they knew the representative was away from home, they went to the penthouse apartment, Tachyon mind-controlled the servants, and they'd spend several hours playing with Henry Jr., Brandon, and Fleur. He'd then instruct the nurse and housekeeper to forget the visit. It gave him great satisfaction to thumb his nose at the hated Henry, though for real vengeance the man should have been aware of their challenge to his authority.

Tossing the brush aside, he gathered up the evening paper and crawled into bed. On the front page was a picture of Earl receiving a medal for having saved Gandhi. Jack and Holmes stood in the background, the older man looking smug, while Jack looked ill at ease. "Here's a picture from the banquet tonight," he added. "But I still don't see why all the fuss. It was only an attempt."

"We don't share your callous att.i.tude toward a.s.sa.s.sination." Her voice was m.u.f.fled by the folds of her flannel nightgown as she pulled it over her head.

"I know, and it still seems strange." He rolled over on his side propped up on one elbow. "Do you know that until I came to earth I had never gone anywhere anywhere without bodyguards?" without bodyguards?"

The old bed squeaked a bit as she settled in. "That's terrible."

"We're accustomed to it. a.s.sa.s.sination is a way of life among my cla.s.s. It's how the families jockey for position. By the time I was twenty I had lost fourteen members of my immediate family to a.s.sa.s.sination."

"How immediate is immediate?"

"My mother . . . I think. I was only four when she was found at the bottom of the stairs near the women's quarters. I've always suspected my Aunt Sabina was behind it, but there was no proof."

"Poor little boy." Her hand cupped his cheek. "Do you remember her at all?"

"Just flashes. The rustle of silk and lace and the smell of her perfume mostly. And her hair, like a golden cloud."

She rolled over and snuggled close, her b.u.t.tocks pressing into his groin. "What else is so different between Takis and earth?" It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, and he was grateful to her. Talking about the family he had abandoned always made him sad and homesick.

"Women, for one thing."

"Are we better or worse?"

"Just different. You wander about free after you reach childbearing age. We would never allow that. A successful attack against a pregnant woman could wipe out years of careful planning."

"I think that's horrible too."

"We also don't equate s.e.x with sin. A sin to us is casual reproduction which could upset the plan. But pleasure, now, that's another matter. For example, we take attractive young men and women from the lower cla.s.s-the non-psi people-and train them to service the men and women of the great households."

"Don't you ever see the women of your own cla.s.s?"

"Of course. Until age thirty we grow up together, train and study together. It's only when a woman reaches childbearing years that she is secluded to keep her safe. And we still get together for family func- tions: b.a.l.l.s, hunts, picnics, but all within the walls of the estate."

"How long are the little boys left with their mothers in the women's quarters?"

"All children are left until they're thirteen."

"Do they ever see each other again?"

"Of course, they're our mothers mothers!"

"Don't be defensive. It's just very alien to me."

"So to speak," he said, snagging the gown and running his hand up her leg.

"So you have s.e.x toys," she mused while his hands explored her body, and she fondled his stiffening p.e.n.i.s. "Sounds like a nice idea."

"Want to be my s.e.x toy?"

"I thought I already was."

It was a chill that brought him awake. He sat up to find Blythe gone, and the covers trailing across the floor. He became aware of voices from beyond the beaded curtain. The wind was gusting about the building, setting up a keening howl as it sought out the cracks and crevices in the windows. The hair on the back of his neck was rising, but it had nothing to do with the cold. It was those deep guttural voices from behind the curtain, reminding him of children's boogy stories of unquiet ancestor ghosts possessing the living bodies of direct descendants. He shivered, and thrust through the beads. They fell tinkling behind him, and he saw Blythe standing in the center of the room carrying on a spirited argument with herself.

"I tell you, Oppie, we must develop-"

"No! We've been over this before, our first priority is the device. We can't be sidetracked with this hydrogen bomb right now."

For a long moment Tachyon stood frozen with horror. Such things had happened before, when she was tired or under stress, but never to such an extent. He knew he had to find her quickly if she was not to be lost, and he forced himself to move. In two strides he was at her side, gripping her close, reaching for her mind. And he almost retreated in terror, for inside was a nightmarish whirlpool of conflicting personalities, all battling for supremacy while Blythe spun helplessly in the center. He plunged toward her only to be blocked by Henry. Furiously Tachyon thrust him aside, and gathered her within the protective ward of his mind. The other six personalities...o...b..ted around them, fighting the ward. Blythe's strength combined with his, and they banished Teller to his compartment, and Oppenheimer to his; Einstein retreated mumbling while Salk just seemed bemused.

Blythe slumped against him, and the sudden weight was too much for his exhausted body. His knees gave way, and he sat down hard on the wood floor, Blythe cradled in his lap. Out in the street he could hear the milkman making his deliveries, and he realized it had taken hours to restore her balance.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n you, Archibald," he muttered, but it seemed inadequate, as inadequate as his ability to help.