und himself trying to hide it
because he knew she could read minds. Just how do you hide your thoughts
from a mind reader? Ramsey didn't know, but whenever his thoughts
drifted in that direction he tried thinking of something else--anything
else, except the proto-man letter.

"Yes, that's just what I was thinking," Margot said in the boat. "I can
read minds, so I'd know best if we were being watched. To get a clear
reading I have to aim my thoughts specifically, but I can pick up
free-floating thoughts as a kind of emotional tone rather than words.
Does that make sense?"

"If you say so. What else did you read in my mind?"

Margot smiled at him mysteriously and said nothing.

Ramsey felt thoughts of proto-man nibbling at his consciousness. He
tried to fight them down purely rationally, and knew he wouldn't
succeed. He grabbed Margot and pulled her close to him, seeking her
lips with his, letting his thoughts wander into a fantasy of desire.

Margot slapped his face and sat stiffly in her cloak while he paddled to
the other side of the river. Vardin sat like a statue. Ramsey had come
to a conclusion: he did not like letting Margot know how he felt about
her, but it was mostly on a straight physical level and he preferred her
discovering it to her learning that he'd read the proto-man letter from
her father. In his thoughts, though, he never designated it as the
proto-man letter from her father. He designated it as X.

When they reached the bank, Margot said: "I'm sorry for slapping you."

"I'm sorry for making a pass."

"Ramsey, tell me, what is X?"

Ramsey laughed harshly and said nothing. That gave Margot something to
think about. Maybe it would keep her thoughts out of his mind, keep her
from reading....

X marks the spot, thought Ramsey. XXX marks the spot-spot-spot. X is a
spot in a pot or a lot of rot....

"Oh, stop it!" Margot cried irritably. "You're thinking nonsense."

"Then get the heck out of my mind," Ramsey told her.

Vardin walked on without speaking. If she had any inkling of what they
were talking about, she never mentioned it.

Margot said: "I still get the impression."

"What impression?"

"That we're being followed. That we're being watched. Every step of the
way."

Wind and cold and darkness. The hairs on the back of Ramsey's neck
prickled. They walked on, bent against the wind.

* * * * *

Security Officer Second Class Ramar Chind reported to hi