ando working for the
Model's Union too?"

"Stop trying to be funny," she told him. "Night soil! You make me so
damned mad. Letting that little tramp Maria nail you."

"At the time there wasn't much alternative," he said. Then, eyeing her
closely, "How come you're mixed up in UW politics? I thought models were
strictly for fun and games."

Nina said matter-of-factly, "I won top model rating when I was
seventeen. I still hold it and I'm twenty-six now. A girl can get tired
of being and doing the same thing--even in my profession. Besides, I've
got brains. So I try to use them."

"How come you decided to be my secretary?"

"We drew lots and I lost," she informed him.

* * * * *

The copter dropped by searchlight to a flagged terrace in front of a
dark cottage just off the beach. "Thanks, Bob," said Nina. "Tell the
boys to stand by with their guard beams up." Then, to Lindsay, "Come on,
boss, let's get out of this heap."

She walked swiftly toward the cottage, pressed something. Soft lights
came on, revealing a charming simulated wood dwelling in the fine
antique Frank Lloyd Wright tradition. She ushered him into a
delightfully gay bathroom looking out on the water, said, "Wait here
while I get this armor off."

Lindsay felt a slight qualm as he considered what being a top model at
seventeen must mean. And then he thought, Why not? Certainly he had no
claim on Nina's morals. He doubted if anyone had a claim of any kind on
her.

She emerged, looking unexpectedly like a young girl in simple clout and
cup-bra, which exposed most of her gorgeously tanned body. Her hair,
innocent of jewels like the rest of her, was clubbed back simply with
some sort of clip. She lit a cigarette and said, "Now--how the hell are
you fouling up the computers?"

"I'm not," he told her promptly. "At least not in the case of the tennis
match. I just happened to know something about Pat O'Ryan the people who
fed facts to the computer didn't."

"That goon Pat!" she said. "He's so damned dumb."

"You know him well?" he asked with a trace of jealousy.

"I know him." She dismissed it with a flick of her cigarette. "It's a
good thing you knew _judo_ too, boss. But what did you do to him that
fouled up the match?"

"While he was out cold I gave him a shot of whiskey to bring him
'round," Lindsay told her. "He didn't know about it and I didn't tell
him when he informed me about his grain-alcohol allergy. So f