Keys protested. "Come on, relax. Everybody!" he snapped, asElmer got his breath back and came in for another tackle. I signaledfor a fair catch, and he eased up.
I peered over my shoulder at the girl at the piano. "Well?" I askedher. "Where _were_ your parents on the 19th of April in '75?"
Her eyes sought out Keys'. He nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor."About fifty miles from Logan, Iowa," she said.
"And you don't have the Stigma?" I scoffed.
"Not everybody inside the Logan Ring was affected," she reminded me."Which is my tough luck. But I _am_ being crucified because Motherand Dad _were_ in the Ring the day the N-bomb went off, whether I havethe Stigma or not."
I came back to stand in front of her. "I'm an attorney," I said. "Ihave an idea what can happen to you if the Courts get hold of you.Right now they can't find you--which must mean you've been hiding."She confirmed that with a nod, biting her red, red lips. "They _are_after you, and a Federal rap is just the start," I said. "You haveonly one chance, Mary, and I'm glad you claimed it. The only way youcan keep them from putting you over a barrel is to prove you don'thave the Stigma. I think I know a way to do it. Are you ready to letme help you?"
"Not _that_ fast," she said, looking worried. "Oh, I trust Keys'judgment about you. Yes, I _do_," she said earnestly, turning toCrescas. "Yes, I _know_ he got you off, Keys. But it doesn't soundright. Why should he take a chance helping a Psi--even if I really_don't_ have the Stigma? What's his angle?"
"Fair enough," Keys said. "How about it, Maragon?"
"I knew it was a bum rap they were trying to pin on Mary as soon as Iheard about it," I explained. "This business about Mary having HC.There just isn't any such Psi power as hallucination, and every one ofyou knows it--it's an old wives' tale. I wouldn't touch this littlelady with a ten-foot pole if I really thought she had the Stigma. Ihave a living to make around this town--and you can't handle Stigmabusiness and get any decent trade, too."
I looked back at Mary. "How _did_ you work your swindle at the bank?"I asked quietly.
She sighed. "Sleight of hand," she said. "A damned fool stunt. Ifigured to put the money back in a day or so. If somebody else hadn'tbeen working the same racket, they'd never have caught me. But theyhad set a trap--"
"I _thought_ it was some light-finger stuff," I grinned. "Well, itwill take me a while to set up a real test of your Psi Powers. Wherecan I reach you--or are you spending the night here?"
"Certainly not!" she said, casting an annoyed glance at Elmer. Shelooked at her watch. "Would it be much longer than an hour? I mightstill be here, if Elmer--"
"Jes' fine," T-shirt said. "Unless yo' mine watching Keys and mepractice." He grinned at me. "Keys is he'ping me build up mah TK," heexplained.
"That'll make you popular," I sneered, as I wrote down Elmer's phonenumber. They let me out. It had been a pretty room, and in a way Ihated to leave it. Still, by the time a cruising 'copter had taken mehalfway back to my office up-town, I could relax the shield over mythoughts--and that was worth getting out of that Stigma hideaway.
* * * * *
It was a little after nine when I walked into the lobby and rang forthe elevator. A man lounging against the wall over near the buildingdirectory raised a wrist-phone to his mouth and spoke quietly into itas I waited for the car to come. He didn't seem to be interested inme--but then, he wouldn't want to show it if he were. Fool around withthe Stigma, would I?
The building was mostly dark--in our circle we make too much dough tobe interested in overtime. I keyed myself into our waiting room,turned on the ceiling, and went into my private office. There wasenough light leaking in from our foyer, so I added none.
I found Lindstrom at home--after all, he should have been by nineo'clock. "Maragon!" he said. "Kill your focus. I have guests!"
I reached up to twist the 'scope so that my image would be a blur onhis screen. Nice beginning. I was as welcome as a thriving case ofleprosy.
"I want you to make a test for me, Professor," I said. "Tonight."
He shook his head. "I told you I had guests. We're entertaining. Nothanks, Maragon."
"A Normal is being crucified," I said quietly. "They've got her peggedas a Psi. I've got to get her off the hook."
"How could this happen?" he demanded.
"She hangs with a bunch of Stigma cases, for one thing," I said.
"Nobody forced her to associate with a gang of Psis," he said. "Servesher right."
"Nobody forced you to, either, Prof," I snarled. "But you have asteady stream of Stigma cases going through your laboratory."
"That's different!" he protested.
"Nuts. Now name a time when I can see you there."
"I don't want any part of it. If you're along, it will just meantrouble, Maragon. You got too much publicity on defending that TKlocksmith. I've got a professional standing to maintain."
"You'd sure look silly if all the Psis in town blackballed you," Isnarled at him. "Let me pass the word around--and you darned well knowI've got the contacts to do it--and you've tested your last Stigmacase. Then let's see what kind of a professional standing you've got."
He knew some pretty dirty words. "What time?" I pressed him, knowingthe profanity was a confession of defeat.
"Not before eleven," he said glumly. "I won't forget this, Maragon."
"What the hell," I said. "I'm on every S-list in town already. Youhardly count beside the other enemies I'm making." I cut the image.
As if at a signal, there was a tapping on the door to the corridor. Igot out of my swivel, walked into the waiting room and opened up. Theman who stood there was faintly familiar--but it was the gun in hisfist that got most of my attention.
"Maragon?" he asked softly.
I spread my feet a little. "I knew I was making enemies pretty fast,"I said to him. "But I didn't know how strongly. Listen," I snapped,"I'll bet one thing never occurred to you."
He was taken back. You're not supposed to snarl at a guy who pokes agun at you. In theory it gives him the edge of any conversation."Huh?" he said.
"The only thing that lousy pop-gun of yours is good for is shootingpeople. I don't think you came here to shoot me. Now what can you do?"
"Clown," he growled. "Where's Renner?"
"In bed, if he has any sense," I decided. "Make up your mind. Whom doyou want?"
"For Pete's sake," he said. "Grammar at a time like this!" He lookeddown at his gun, decided I was right, and stuck it in a shoulderholster. Then his wrist came up in front of his mouth and I recognizedhim. It was the man who had lounged near the building directory when Ihad come in. "Come ahead," he said into the mike.
* * * * *
I turned my back on him and stomped into my office. Let them followme.
But only one man came in, a minute or so later. "Does it have to be sodark?" he asked politely.
"Rheostat's by your elbow," I said. He reached for it and turned onthe ceiling, closing the door that cut us off from the waiting room.
"Good evening, Counselor," he said, taking the seat across my deskfrom me. He looked different without his judicial robes, not quite asmuch my senior as I had thought. He wasn't any taller than I was,perhaps five feet nine, and thirty pounds lighter. Between us we hadabout an average forehead--his went up to the top of his head--myhairline starts about where my eyebrows leave off. Robes or no robes,there was something judicial about him, as though he'd been born witha gavel in his hand.
"Good evening, Your Honor," I said to Judge Passarelli. "You have apretty active pipeline into Stigma circles, don't you?"
It didn't bother him. "As long as judgeships are elective offices,Maragon," he said. "Judges will play politics. Fill me in on this MaryHall thing."
"Without violating professional ethics?" I asked.
"You'll try cases again, in front of judges," he snapped not veryjudicial. "Don't get me angry with you, Maragon."
I countered: "The shoe is on the other foot--I'm darned so
re at you."He tried to find his receding hairline with his thin eyebrows. "Don'tlook so amazed--do you think I haven't figured out my defending thatTK Crescas was no accident? You set me up for it."
"Set you up for a