The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

"Indeed," Michael said. "And maybe you could find a mineral able to create blasts to rival those of megasalamanders, yet I would not lose sleep fretting over the probability of either event. I will take oath upon any scripture you care to select that something - and something malevolent, at that - created the breach through which the stardust emerged. That is my professional judgment."

You work with experts to get their professional judgment.

If, having got it, you then choose to ignore it, you'd better have a real good reason. I not only didn't have a real good reason, I thought Michael was right. But if he was, what had gone wrong? 

I said, "What bothers me most about detecting the stardust and nothing more serious is that the dump operators will be able to claim that the dust didn't really come from inside, even though we know it was dumped there."

"The neighborhood will make it hard for them to substantiate that." Michael waved to show what he meant I had to nod. If ever a neighborhood remained conspicuously untouched by stardust, the one around the Devonshire dump was it "Why haven't we found any nastier influences leaking, then?" I asked.

The most obvious reason is a failure in our testing technique," Michael answered. "I must confess, however, that at this moment I cannot tell you where the flaw lies. All my procedures have in the past shown themselves to be more than satisfactory."

I asked my watch what time it was. When I found out it was twenty to five, I said, "Let's knock off for the day and see if we're more brilliant in the morning." I wanted to get back to my own carpet so I could go down to my place, pack an overnight case, and then head for Judy's.

Most days, Michael Manstein's impressive integrity wouldn't have let him contemplate taking off early, let alone doing it. When he said, "Why not?" I confess I blinked. He added, "We certainly aren't accomplishing anything here at the moment with the possible exception of entertaining the security guard." Maybe he was trying to justify leaving to himself, or maybe to me. At that point I didn't need any justifying; all I wanted to do was head south.

Michael must have talked himself into it, because he started sticking tools and substances back into his little black bag. I stood there waiting, hoping he wouldn't get an attack of conscience. He didn't. As soon as he was through, we walked across the street to his carpet and headed for Westwood.

Traffic was its usual ghastly self. So many carpets on so many flyways meant there was so much lint and dander in the air that the famous Angels City sunshine turned pale and washed-out; a lot of people were rubbing their eyes as they flew. That pollution usually seems worse in St. Ferdinand's Valley than other parts of town, too; they don't get the sea breeze there to clear it out What they're going to have to do one of these days is design a flying carpet that isn't woven from wool. People have been trying to do that for years; so far, they haven't managed to come up with one the sylphs like. But if they don't succeed before too long, Angels City isn't going to be a place anybody in his right mind would want to live.

I breathed easier - literally and figuratively - when we got out of the Valley and back into Westwood. Michael pulled up beside my carpet in the parking lot. "Are you going to go back up to your office and see what awaits you?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. "What's that New Testament line? Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof? Something like that, anyhow. Tomorrow will have troubles of its own. I'm not really interested in finding out about them in advance."

"As you will," Michael said. Since it was nearer six than five, he didn't have any trouble finding a parking space - most people who work at the Confederal Building had gone home. He headed on in anyhow; now that he was here, he'd do some more work. Maybe he was feeling bad about his fall from probity.

Me, I didn't feel bad at all. Hungry, yes, but not bad. I jumped onto my carpet and headed home. I got off at Imperial instead of The Second, just in case more earth elementals with my name on them were waiting for me.

If they were, I evaded them - I got home unscathed. I stayed just long enough to use the plumbing and toss tomorrow's outfit into an overnight case. Then I was out the door, down the stairs, back on my carpet, and on my way to Judy's.

Going down St James' Freeway into Long Beach in the evening is a gamble. When it's bad, the carpets might as well be sitting on your living room floor. I could have got there at nine as easily as a little before eight But I was lucky, and so I pulled up in front of Judy's place right on time.

I used the talisman to let her building's Watcher know I belonged there, then went up the stairs two at a time to her flat. I knocked on the door. When she didn't come right away, I figured she was using the plumbing herself or something, so I let myself in.