Stranger in a Strange Land

Smith felt distressed at the failure to respond in kind and interpreted it as failure on his own part. He realized miserably that, time after time, he brought agitation to these creatures when his purpose was to create oneness. He tried again, rearranging his sparse vocabulary to enfold the thought differently. «My nest is yours and your nest is mine.»

This time Jill smiled. «Why, how sweet! My dear, I am not sure I understand you, but that is the nicest offer I have had in a long time.» She added, «But right now we are up to our ears in trouble — so let's wait, shall we?»

Smith understood Jill hardly more than Jill understood him, but he caught his water brother's pleased mood and understood the suggestion to wait. Waiting he did without effort; he sat back, satisfied that all was well between himself and his brother, and enjoyed the scenery. It was the first he had seen and on every side there was richness of new things to try to grok. It occurred to him that the apportation used at home did not permit this delightful viewing of what lay between. This almost led him to a comparison of Martian and human methods not favorable to the Old Ones, but his mind shied away from heresy.

Jill kept quiet and tried to think. Suddenly she noticed that the cab was on the final leg toward her apartment house — and realized that home was the last place to go, it being the first place they would look once they figured out who had helped Smith to escape. While she knew nothing of police methods, she supposed that she must have left fingerprints in Smith's room, not to mention that people had seen them walk out. It was even possible (so she had heard) for a technician to read the tape in this cab's pilot and tell what trips it had made and where and when.

She slapped the keys, and cleared the instruction to go to her apartment house. The cab rose out of the lane and hovered. Where could she go? Where could she hide a grown man who was half idiot and could not even dress himself? — and was the most sought-after person on the globe? Oh, if Ben were only here! Ben …where are you?

She picked up the phone and rather hopelessly punched Ben's number. Her spirits jumped when a man answered — then slumped when she realized that it was not Ben but his major-domo. «Oh. Sorry, Mr. Kilgallen. This is Jill Boardman. I thought I had called Mr. Caxton's home.»

«You did. I have his calls relayed to the office when he is away more than twenty-four hours.»

«Then he is still away?»

«Yes. May I help you?»

«Uh, no. Mr. Kilgallen, isn't it strange that Ben should drop out of sight? Aren't you worried?»

«Eh? Not at all. His message said that he did not know how long he would be gone.»

«Isn't that odd?»

«Not in Mr. Caxton's work, Miss Boardman.»

«Well …I think there is something very odd about his absence! I think you ought to report it. You ought to spread it over every news service in the country — in the world!»

Even though the cab's phone had no vision circuit Jill felt Osbert Kilgallen draw himself up. «I'm afraid, Miss Boardman, that I must interpret my employer's instructions myself. Uh … if you don't mind my saying so, there is always some “good friend” phoning Mr. Caxton frantically whenever he's away.»

Some babe trying to get a hammer lock on him, Jill interpreted angrily — and this character thinks I'm the current one. It squelched any thought of asking Kilgallen for help; she switched off.

Where could she go? A solution popped into her mind. If Ben was missing — and the authorities had a hand in it — the last place they would expect to find Valentine Smith would be Ben's apartment … unless they connected her with Ben, which seemed unlikely.

They could dig a snack out of Ben's pantry and she could borrow clothes for her idiot child. She set the combination for Ben's apartment house; the cab picked the lane and dropped into it.

Outside Ben's flat Jill put her face to the hush box and said, «Karthago delenda est!»

Nothing happened. Oh damn! she said to herself; he's changed the combo. She stood there, knees weak, and kept her face away from Smith. Then she again spoke into the hush box. The same circuit actuated the door or announced callers; she announced herself on the forlorn chance that Ben might have returned. «Ben, this is Jill.»

The door slid open.

They went inside and the door closed. Jill thought that Ben had let them in, then realized that she had accidentally hit on his new door combination … intended, she guessed, as a compliment — she could have dispensed with the compliment to have avoided that awful panic.