Twenty miles on, Telzey checked the time again, set the Cloudsplitter to home in on one of Orado City’s major traffic arteries, and released its controls. Her father should be about ready to leave his hotel by now. She dialed his call number on the car’s communicator and tapped in her personal symbol.
Gilas Amberdon responded promptly. He had been, he acknowledged, about ready to leave; and yes, he would be happy to see her at his office in around forty-five minutes. What was it about?
“Something to do with xenotelepathy,” Telzey said.
“Let’s hear it.” His voice had changed tone slightly.
“That would take a little time, Gilas.”
“I can spare the time.”
He listened without comment while she told him about her attempt to explore Chomir’s memories, what she seemed to have found, and what she was concluding from it. It would be easy to persuade Gonwil to keep out of sight for a day or two, with the idea of avoiding Junior; after that, her loyalty to Malrue might create additional problems.
Gilas remained silent for a little after she finished. Then he said, “I’ll do two things immediately, Telzey.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll have the Kyth Agency send over an operator to discuss the matter—Dasinger, if he’s available. If your mysterious stranger is remaining in the vicinity of Pehanron College, the agency should be able to establish who he is and what he’s up to. Finding him might not be the most important thing, of course.”
Telzey felt a surge of relief. “You do think Malrue Parlin . . .”
“We should have some idea about that rather soon. The fact is simply that if the situation between Gonwil and the Parlins is as you’ve described it in respect to the disposal of her holdings in case of death, it demands a close investigation in itself. Mrs. Parlin, while she isn’t in the big leagues yet, is considered one of the sharper financial operators on Tayun.”
“Gonwil says she’s really brilliant.”
“She might be,” Gilas said. “In any case, we’ll have a check started to determine whether there have been previous suggestions of criminality connected with her operations. We’ll act meanwhile on the assumption that the danger exists and is imminent. Your thought of getting Gonwil away from the college for a couple of days, or until we see the situation more clearly, is a very good one. We’ll discuss it when you get here.”
“All right.”
“I don’t quite see,” Gilas went on, “how we’re going to explain what we want done, in the matter of the man the dog’s run into twice, without revealing something of your methods of investigation.”
“No. I thought of that.”
He hesitated. “Well, Dasinger’s agency is commendably close-mouthed about its clients’ affairs. The information shouldn’t go any further. Are you coming in your own car?”
“Yes.”
“Set it down on my private flange then. Ravia will take you through to the office.”
Chapter 3
Switching off the communicator, Telzey glanced at her watch. For the next thirty minutes, the Cloudsplitter would continue on automatic towards one of the ingoing Orado City air lanes. After it swung into the lane, she would make better time by taking over the controls. Meanwhile, she could catch up on some of the sleep she’d lost.
She settled back comfortably in the driver’s seat and closed her eyes.
At once a figure which gave the impression of hugeness began to appear in her mind. Telzey flinched irritably. It had been over a week since the Psionic Cop last came climbing out of her unconscious to lecture her; she’d begun to hope she was finally rid of him. But he was back, a giant with a stern metallic face, looking halfway between one of the less friendly Orado City air patrolmen and the humanized type of robot. In a moment, he’d start warning her again that she was engaging in activities which could lead only to serious trouble. . . .
She opened her eyes abruptly and the Cop was gone. But she might as well give up the idea of a nap just now. The compulsion against using telepathy somebody had thoughtfully stuck her with was weakening progressively; but the long session with Chomir could have stirred it up enough to produce another series of nightmares in which the Psionic Cop chased her around to place her under arrest. Half an hour of nightmares wouldn’t leave her refreshed for the meeting with Gilas’s detectives.
Telzey straightened up, sat frowning at the horizon. There had been no way of foreseeing complications like the Psionic Cop when the telepathic natives of Jontarou nudged her dormant talent into action, a little over eight weeks ago. The prospects of life as a psi had looked rather intriguing. But hardly had she stepped out of the ship at Orado City when her problems began.
First, there’d been the touch of something very much like a strong other-mind impulse in the Customs Hall. Some seconds after it faded, Telzey realized it hadn’t been structured enough to be some other telepath’s purposeful thought. But she’d had no immediate suspicions. The Customs people used a psionically powered inspection machine, and she was within its field at the moment. Undoubtedly, she’d picked up a brief burst of meaningless psionic noise coming from the machine.
She forgot about that incident then, because her mother met her at the spaceport. Federation Councilwoman Jessamine Amberdon had been informed of the events on Jontarou, and appeared somewhat agitated about them. Telzey found herself whisked off promptly to be put through a series of psychological tests, to make sure she had come to no harm. Only when the tests indicated no alarming changes in her mental condition, in fact no detectable changes at all, did Jessamine seem reassured.
“Your father took immediate steps to have your part in the Jontarou matter hushed up,” she informed Telzey. “And . . . well, xenotelepathy hardly seems very important! You’re not too likely to run into telepathic aliens again.” She smiled. “I admit I’ve been worried, but it seems no harm has been done. We can just forget the whole business now.”
Telzey wasn’t too surprised. Jessamine was a sweet and understanding woman, but she had the streak of conservatism which tended to characterize junior members of the Grand Council of the Federation. And discreet opinion-sampling on shipboard already had told Telzey that conservative levels of Hub society regarded skills like telepathy as being in questionable taste, if indeed, they were not simply a popular fiction. Jessamine must feel it could do nothing to further the brilliant career she foresaw for her daughter if it was rumored that Telzey had become a freak.
It clearly was not the right time to admit that additional talents of the kind had begun to burgeon in her on the trip home. Jessamine was due to depart from Orado with the Federation’s austere Hace Committee within a few days, and might be absent for several months. It wouldn’t do to get her upset all over again.
With Telzey’s father, it was a different matter. Gilas Amberdon, executive officer of Orado City’s Bank of Rienne, could, when he chose, adopt a manner conservative enough to make the entire Hace Committee look frivolous. But this had never fooled his daughter much, and Gilas didn’t disappoint her.
“You appear,” he observed in the course of their first private talk after her return, “to have grasped the principle that it rarely pays to give the impression of being too unusual.”
“It looks that way,” Telzey admitted.
“And of course,” Gilas continued, “if one does happen to be quite unusual, there might eventually be positive advantages to having played the thing down.”
“Yes,” Telzey agreed. “I’ve thought of that.”
Gilas tilted his chair back and laced his fingers behind his neck. It was his customary lecture position, though there appeared to be no lecture impending at the moment.
“What are your plans?” he asked.
“I want to finish law school first,” Telzey said. “I think I can be out of Pehanron in about two years—but not if I get too involved in something else.”
He nodded. “Then?”
“Then I might study telepathy and psionics generally. It looks as if it could be very interesting.”
“Not a bad program,” Gilas observed absently. He brought his chair back down to the floor, reached for a cigarette and lit it, eyes reflective.
“Psionics,” he stated, “is a subject of which I know almost nothing. In that I’m not unique. Whatever research worthy of the name is being done on it has been going on behind locked doors for some time. Significant data are not released.”
Telzey frowned slightly. “How do you know?”
“As soon as I learned of your curious adventures on Jontarou, I began a private investigation. A fact-finding agency is at present assembling all available information on psionics, sorting and classifying it. Because of the general aroma of secrecy in that area, they haven’t been told for whom they’re working. The results they obtain are forwarded to me through the nondirect mailing system.”