spinning. The thought had
broken through crystal clear in the darkness, revealed itself for the
briefest instant, then swirled down again into the foggy gulf. Agent?
Why should he have an agent? What purpose? Frantically he scanned his
memory for Drengo, down along the dark channels, searching. Drengo had
come through the fire, into the burning building, carried him like a
child through the flames into safety. Drengo had been best man at his
wedding--but he'd been married before the bombing of the city. _Or had
he?_ Where did Drengo fit in? Was the fire the first time he had seen
Drengo?

Something deep in his mind forced its way through, saying NO! YOU HAVE
KNOWN HIM ALL YOUR LIFE! Roger fought it back, frantically. Never!
Back in Iowa there had been no Drengo. Nor in Chicago. Nor in New
York. He hadn't even known him in--IN NEW ALBANY!

* * * * *

Roger Strang was on his feet, shaking, cold fear running through his
body, his nerves screaming. Had they ruined his mind? He couldn't
think straight any more. Telling him things that weren't true, forcing
lies into his mind--frightening him with the horrible conviction that
his mind was really helpless, full of false data. What had happened to
him? Where had the thought of "New Albany" come from? He shivered, now
thoroughly frightened. There wasn't any "New Albany." Nowhere in the
world. There just _wasn't_ any such place.

_Could he have two memories? Conflicting memories?_

He walked shakily to the door, peered through the small peephole. In
the morning they would try again, they had said. He shuddered,
terribly afraid. He had felt his mind cracking under the last
questioning; another would drive him completely insane. But Drengo
would have the answers. Why had he shot little Davey? How did that fit
in? Was this false-credential business part of some stupendous scheme
against him? Impossible! But what else? He knew with sudden certain
conviction that he must see Martin Drengo, immediately, before they
questioned him again, before the fear and uncertainty drove him out of
his mind. He called tentatively through the peephole, half-hoping to
catch a guard's attention. And the call echoed through silent halls.

And then he heard Ann's voice, clear, cool, sharp in the prison
darkness. Roger whirled, fear choking the shouts still ringing in his
ears, gaped at the woman who stood in his cell--

She was lovelier than he had ever seen her, he