, they probably didn't think of themselves in that
light either.

The enemy--the old and protean enemy, who had been fought down as
Fascist, Nazi, Shintoist, Communist, Atomist, Americanist and God knew
what else for a bloody century--had grown craftier with time. Now he
could fool even himself.

Dalgetty's senses went back to normal. It was a sudden immense relief
to be merely sitting in a dimly-lit booth with a pretty girl, to be no
more than human for a while. But his sense of mission was still dark
within him.

"Sorry I was so long," he said. "Have another drink."

"I just had one." She smiled.

He noticed the $10-figure glowing on the dispenser and fed it two
coins. Then, his nerves still vibrating, he dialed another whiskey for
himself.

"You know those people in the next grotto?" asked Glenna. "I saw you
watching them leave."

"Well, I know Mr. Bancroft by reputation," he said. "He lives here,
doesn't he?"

"He's got a place over on Gull Station," she said, "but he's not here
very much, mostly on the mainland, I guess."

Dalgetty nodded. He had come to Pacific Colony two days before, had
been hanging around in the hope of getting close enough to Bancroft to
pick up a clue. Now he had done so and his findings were worth little.
He had merely confirmed what the Institute already considered highly
probable without getting any new information.

He needed to think over his next move. He drained his drink. "I'd
better jet off," he said.

"We can have dinner in here if you want," said Glenna.

"Thanks, I'm not hungry." That was true enough. The nervous tension
incidental to the use of his powers raised the devil with appetite.
Nor could he be too lavish with his funds. "Maybe later."

"Okay, Joe, I might be seeing you." She smiled. "You're a funny one.
But kind of nice." Her lips brushed his and then she got up and left.
Dalgetty went out the door and punched for a top-side elevator.

It took him past many levels. The tavern was under the station's
caissons near the main anchor cable, looking out into deep water.
Above it were store-houses, machine rooms, kitchens, all the
paraphernalia of modern existence. He stepped out of a kiosk onto an
upper deck, thirty feet above the surface. Nobody else was there and
he walked over to the railing and leaned on it, looking across the
water and savoring loneliness.

Below him the tiers dropped away to the main deck, flowing lines and
curves, broad sheets of cl