right there,” the chief said, pointing with a stubby thumb.
The receiver lay on the desk, and he could hear it saying, “Hello—hello—” before he picked it up.
“Anne? What’s the matter?”
Her voice was low and strained, trying to be cheerful. “Nothing’s the matter, darling. We have a visitor. Come right home, will you? Chief Franklin’s here.”
It knocked the breath out of him. He felt himself going white. He glanced at Chief Miler, calmly sitting nearby.
“Can you tell me about it now?” he asked her.
“Not very well. Please hurry home. He wants to talk to you about the K-99s.”
“Have the two of them met?”
“Yes, they have.” She paused, as if listening to him speak, then said, “Oh, that! The game, honey—remember the game?”
“Good,” he grunted. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up and started out.
“Troubles?” the chief called after him.
“Just a sick newt,” he said, “if it’s any of your business.”
*
Chief Franklin’s helicopter was parked in the empty lot next door when Norris drove up in front of the house. The official heard the truck and came out on the porch to watch his agent walk up the path. His lanky, emaciated body was loosely draped in gray tweeds, and his thin hawk face was a dark and solemn mask. He was a middle-aged man, his skin seamed with wrinkles, but his hair was still abnormally black. He greeted Norris with a slow, almost sarcastic nod.
“I see you don’t read your mail. If you’d looked at it, you’d have known I was coming. I wrote you yesterday.”
“Sorry, Chief, I didn’t have a chance to stop by the message office this morning.”
Franklin grunted. “Then you don’t know why I’m here?”
“No, sir.”
“Let’s sit out on the porch,” Franklin said, and perched his bony frame on the railing. “We’ve got to get busy on these Bermuda-K-99s, Norris. How many have you got?”
“Thirty-four, I think.”
“I counted thirty-five.”
“Maybe you’re right. I—I’m not sure.”
“Found any deviants yet?”
“Uh—I haven’t run any tests yet, sir.”
Franklin’s voice went sharp. “Do you need a test to know when a neutroid is talking a blue streak?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just this. We’ve found at least a dozen of Delmont’s units that have mental ages that correspond to their physical age. What’s more, they’re functioning females, and they have normal pituitaries. Know what that means?”
“They won’t take an age-set then,” Norris said. “They’ll grow to adulthood.”
“And have children.”
Norris frowned. “How can they have children? There aren’t any males.”
“No? Guess what we found in one of Delmont’s incubators.”
“Not a—”
“Yeah. And it’s probably not the first. This business about padding his quota is baloney! Hell, man, he was going to start his own black market! He finally admitted it, after twenty-hours’ questioning without a letup. He was going to raise them, Norris. He was stealing them right out of the incubators before an inspector ever saw them. The K-99s—the numbered ones—are just the ones he couldn’t get back. Lord knows how many males he’s got hidden away someplace!”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Do! What do you think we’ll do? Smash the whole scheme, that’s what! Find the deviants and kill them. We’ve got enough now for lab work.”
Norris felt sick. He looked away. “I suppose you’ll want me to handle the destruction, then.”
Franklin gave him a suspicious glance. “Yes, but why do you ask? You have found one, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” he admitted.
A moan came from the doorway. Norris looked up to see his wife’s white face staring at him in horror, just before she turned and fled into the house. Franklin’s bony head lifted.
“I see,” he said. “We have a fixation on our deviant. Very well, Norris, I’ll take care of it myself. Where is it?”
“In the house, sir. My wife’s bedroom.”
“Get it.”
*
Norris went glumly in the house. The bedroom door was locked.
“Honey,” he called softly. There was no answer. He knocked gently.
A key turned in the lock, and his wife stood facing him. Her eyes were weeping ice.
“Stay back!” she said. He could see Peony behind her, sitting in the center of the floor and looking mystified.
Then he saw his own service revolver in her trembling hand.
“Look, honey—it’s me.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not you. It’s a man that wants to kill a little girl. Stay back.”
“You’d shoot, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly.
“Try to come in and find out,” she invited.
“Let me have Peony.”
She laughed, her eyes bright with hate. “I wonder where Terry went. I guess he died. Or adapted. I guess I’m a widow now. Stay back, Mister, or I’ll kill you.”
Norris smiled. “Okay, I’ll stay back. But the gun isn’t loaded.”
She tried to slam the door; he caught it with his foot. She struck at him with the pistol, but he dragged it out of her hand. He pushed her aside and held her against the wall while she clawed at his arm.
“Stop it!” he said. “Nothing will happen to Peony, I promise you!” He glanced back at the child-thing, who had begun to cry.
Anne subsided a little, staring at him angrily.
“There’s no other way out, honey. Just trust me. She’ll be all right.”
Breathing quickly, Anne stood aside and
