up the volume of the defense mech as high as it would go, andleft it in my room when I left.
The same hideous secretary, with the loose jowels and the deep, lividscar on his right cheek, met me at the door of Grogan's suite.
"Th' boss'll see you in th' library," the bodyguard rumbled, and led meto the room. The door closed, but did not click behind me.
Isaac Grogan was slouched on a sofa, hands in his pockets, looking atthe floor.
I stood for a moment, looking at him.
He had changed only a little in five years. He was a big man with abroad, pleasant face and thick black hair. A deep dimple divided hischin. The last time I'd seen him, he had been getting a little paunchy,and there had been wrinkles developing in his neck and bags under hiseyes. But that had been from strain and worry, and he looked a lotbetter now.
"You're looking well," I told him.
"What the hell do you want?" Grogan said quietly. "Why can't you leaveme alone? I don't want any trouble."
"Neither do I."
And suddenly I felt very awkward. What the hell _did_ I want? Justexactly what had I expected to accomplish with this visit? I didn'treally know.
I cleared my throat. "I've got one question, Grogan. Maybe two. ThenI'll leave."
He looked at me.
"Do you still blame me for what happened in Memphis?" I asked.
Grogan shifted his position and gave a sort of half-laugh. "Langston,I've never liked you, and I don't now. But I can't say that I blame youfor the Memphis mess--if I ever did. Now, what's your other question?"
"Telenosis," I said.
He waited, looking straight at me. "Well? What about it?"
"According to your C.I. record," I said, "you had three months ofintermittent telenosis therapy."
He shrugged. "That's right. Lots of people do. You still haven't askedyour question."
"Yes, I have," I replied. "I'll leave now. Thanks for your time."
* * * * *
The gorilla-secretary was opening the front door for me, when Groganspoke again. "Langston."
I turned around.
Grogan was standing in the door of the library.
"Langston," he repeated. "I don't know what your angle is. I don't knowwhy you came here, or whether you got what you wanted. Furthermore, Idon't care much. Five years ago is not today, Langston. I've changed.Just the same, I don't believe I want to see you again. I don't likeyou. Okay?"
I said, "Okay," and left.
Back in my hotel room, I first turned down the volume of the defensemech, then sat down at the visiphone and put in a call to New York. Thepudgy image of Carson Newell appeared.
"I'm stumped," I told him.
"What's the matter? Did you see Grogan?"
"Yeah. Just now."
"Well?"
"Nothing. I'm stumped. He's completely changed. If there was ever a caseof full and complete correction, I'd say Grogan is it."
Newell tapped his fingertips together, then shrugged impatiently. "Well,hell, I don't think we're getting anywhere on this. I'll turn it over tothe C.I.D. and let them worry about it."
"So what happens now?" I asked. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Take a vacation. But hang on to that defense mech. Stay in Palm Beachand contact me pronto if anything happens. Buzz me at least once a day,even if anything doesn't happen."
He started to put down the mike, then lifted it again. "How's the SRI?"
"Oh, that. I'll whip out a story on it in a couple of days."
"No hurry. Find out all you can about it. Give you something to do whileyou're waiting around."
He put down the mike and faded from the screen.
* * * * *
So I promptly did my damnedest to forget all about Isaac Grogan andtelenosis. I spent the rest of the day at the beach, sprawled out on thehot sand with the defense mech beside me and an army of people--humansand aliens--surrounding me. Only once, at about four o'clock, did thedefense mech start going _click-click-click_. I timed it. It lastedthree minutes and then quit.
When I got back to the hotel, at about five, a man fell into step withme as soon as I entered the lobby.
"Name's Maxwell," he told me. "C.I.D. I'm one of your bodyguards for awhile."
"How many others do I rate?" I asked.
He was a tall, heavily built young man in his middle twenties. Hecarried a briefcase. We headed for the elevator.
"Only one," he replied, "but he'll stay pretty much out of sight. He'lljoin us in your room after a while. We have to ask you a lot ofquestions."
The other bodyguard, who slipped into my room without knocking twentyminutes later, was shorter, thinner and older. He was bald except for agray fringe, and his name was Johnson.
The C.I.D. men spent a half-hour checking for hidden mikes and camerasbefore they said much of anything. Then they plopped down on the edge ofthe bed, and the young man opened his briefcase.
The older one said, "Have your dinner sent up here. We'll get started onsome of these questions right away."
The questions were both exhaustive and exhausting. The older man,Johnson, fired the questions, and Maxwell wrote down the answers,occasionally inserting an inquiry of his own. They wanted to knoweverything--not only about my telenosis experiences and my knowledge ofand contacts with Isaac Grogan, but everything I had done, said orthought during the past two weeks, everyone I had met and talked to, andeverything we had talked about.
At the end of three and a half hours, I felt completely pumped out, andMaxwell had a sheaf of notes the size of a best-seller.
Johnson said, "Well, I guess that'll do for a starter. We'll haveanother session tomorrow."
He took the notes from Maxwell and put them in Maxwell's briefcase. Hestood up. "I'll have these transcribed and maybe check around a little.I'll meet you here at six-thirty tomorrow night."
"What about--" I started. He cut me off: "Maxwell will stay with you.He's not to let you out of his sight. In case anyone asks, he's yourbrother-in-law from Sacramento."
* * * * *
I couldn't help laughing--but it was an admiring laugh. "You fellows arenothing if not thorough. Does my real brother-in-law, John Maxwell ofSacramento, know about this?" I was curious.
It was Maxwell who answered. "Your brother-in-law received along-distance emergency call from you at noon today, telling him to joinyou immediately. Vision-reception was fuzzy, but he recognized yourvoice and took the first strato. I changed places with him in Denver,where I happened to be stationed, and he was smuggled back home. He'swith his family, but he'll have to stay in for a few days."
I shook my head. "It's marvelous. Thoroughness personified. Say, I'llbet you fellows even thought of getting defense mechanisms ... but whereare they?"
Johnson and Maxwell looked at each other, jaws hanging.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Johnson said bitterly. "Thoroughnesspersonified! Son of a...." He slapped his hat on his bald head anddashed out the door without looking back.
Maxwell grimaced. He got up from the bed and walked to an easy chair andsat down again. "Well, Irvin Johnson will take care of _that_ littledetail. But it's going to take time...."
"It would have taken time anyway--a day or so--even if you'd thought ofit first thing," I said. "Besides, there's no danger until they findyour wave-band, and that takes time, too."
But he remained disconsolate. Not because of the danger, but simplybecause they'd overlooked an angle. Under a system in which the agentsare given maximum responsibility for details and planning, that wouldcount heavily against them on their records. I almost felt guilty forreminding them.
I said, "John, look--if all else fails, there's one sure quick defense.Alcohol. I would say that under the circumstances, since you're supposedto be protecting _me_, we should keep _you_ as well defended aspossible."
"M'm?"
"You do drink, don't you?" I asked.
"Like a fish," Max
well said, lunging to his feet.
* * * * *
When we were back in the room, Maxwell said: "Hell, I don't see thattelenoshis is such a damn menash to society, if all you have to do isget drunk."
"You want a nation of alcoholics?" I said. I sat down on the bed anduntied my shoes. "Anyway, whasha difference? D. T. horrors or 'noshishorrors? Whash worse?"
Maxwell grunted.
We both had to sleep in the same bed, and