"What can I do to help?"

"Tell us everything you can," he said. "Maybe we can be able to take
such actions as we would have taken if Salgath Trod had lived to talk
to us."

"Yes, of course." She got another cigarette from the case Vall had
laid on the table. "I think, though, that you'd better give me a
narco-hypnosis. You want to be able to depend on what I'm going to
tell you, and I want to be able to remember things exactly."

Vall nodded approvingly and turned to Dalla.

"Can you handle this, yourself?" he asked. "There's an audio-visual
recorder on now; here's everything you need." He opened the drawers in
the table to show her the narco-hypnotic equipment. "And the phone has
a whisper mouthpiece; you can call out without worrying about your
message getting into Zinganna's subconscious. Well, I'll see you when
you're through; you bring Zinganna to Police Terminal; I'll probably
be there."

He went out, closing the door behind him, and went down the hall,
meeting the officer who had taken charge of the butler and housemaid.

"We're having trouble with them, sir," he said. "Hostile. Yelling
about their rights, and demanding to see a representative of
Proletarian Protective League."

Vall mentioned the Proletarian Protective League with unflattering
vulgarity.

"If they don't cooeperate, drag them out and inject them and question
them anyhow," he said.

The detective-lieutenant looked worried. "We've been taking a pretty
high hand with them as it is," he protested. "It's safer to kill a
Citizen than bloody a Prole's nose; they have all sorts of laws to
protect them."

"There are all sorts of laws to protect the Paratime Secret," Vall
replied. "And I think there are one or two laws against murdering
members of the Executive Council. In case P.P.L. makes any trouble,
they aren't here; they have faithfully joined their beloved master in
his refuge on PolTerm. But one or both of them work for the
Organization."

"You're sure of that?"

"The Organization is too thorough not to have had a spy in Salgath's
household. It wasn't Zinganna, because she's volunteered to talk to us
under narco-hyp. So who does that leave?"

"Well, that's different; that makes them suspects." The lieutenant
seemed relieved. "We'll pump that pair out right away."

When he got back to Tortha Karf's office, the Chief was awake, and
doodling on his notepad with his multicolor pen. Vall looked at the
pad and winced; the Chief was d