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“Did she by any chance say where she was going?”

“Yes, Father. She did mention she was going to the hospital for a minute. She wanted to give some comfort to Mr. Augusta; she said he hasn’t been doing very well since his accident.”

Carmody sighed relief and said, “Thank you very much.” He called the Way Station of St. Jairus and got immediate attention. The monitor looked a little awed at seeing the founder of the hospital himself.

“Mrs. Carmody left five minutes ago, Father. No, she didn’t say where she was going.”

Carmody called Mrs. Rougonback. “You’ll have to forego your chat, I’m afraid. Tell my wife she’s to call me immediately; it’s very important.”

He disconnected but still was not satisfied. Why could he not get her on the caller? A malfunction in the instrument? Possible but not very likely. A caller did not wear out and had no discrete parts to go wrong. It could be put out of commission only by something like a sledgehammer blow. But it could be left off. Perhaps Mrs. Rougon was right. Anna could have removed it before washing her hands, although soap and water or even sonics would not harm the device. Then she could have forgotten to replace it.

There was the possibility that a thief had taken the caller, since men stole even now in a land of plenty, always for a reason sufficient to them.

He returned to his packing. Anna would not like the helterskelter folding or his choice of her clothes, but there was no time for her to dally over her wardrobe.

The first case filled and shut, he started on the second. The phone rang. He dropped the blouse he was folding. Eagerly, he spoke the activating code and walked up to the screen even though it was not necessary. He liked to be close to anybody he talked to, even if over a phone, and especially he wanted nearness with Anna.

The face of a city policeman appeared. Carmody grunted, and his belly shrank inward as if a knife had struck it.

“Sergeant Lewis, Father,” the policeman said. “I’m sorry... but I have bad news... about your wife.”

Carmody did not reply. He stared at the heavy craggy face of Lewis, noting at the same time, with complete irrelevance, that a bushfly was buzzing about Lewis’ head. He thought, We’ll never get rid of them. All of 22nd-century science is at hand, yet bushflies and other creeping, crawling creatures multiply themselves and divide our attentions, despite all human efforts. “...Her tattoo was blown off, so we can’t officially identify her, even if her face is recognizable, and she’s been identified by some of her friends who were there,” the sergeant was saying. “I’m terribly sorry, but you will have to come down and make it official.”

Carmody said, “What?” and then the policeman’s words sank home. Anna had left the hospital in her car. A few blocks away, a bomb under the driver’s seat had gone off. Only the upper part of her body was left, and at least one arm must be gone, if the identity tattoo was destroyed.

Carmody said, “Thank you, sergeant, I’ll be right down.” He walked away from the phone and into the living room. The cardinal, seeing his pale face and sagging posture, jumped up from his seat, knocking his glass off the table with a crash.

Dully, Carmody told Faskins what had happened.

The cardinal wept then. Later, when Carmody came out of his shock, he knew that he had seen into the depths of Faskins’ love for him, for it was said by all that Faskins had no more juice in him than an old bone. Carmody himself was dry-eyed; nothing seemed to be functioning except his arms and legs and, now and then, his mouth.

“I’ll go with you,” the cardinal said. “Only first I will call the port and cancel your passage.”

“Don’t do that,” Carmody said. He returned to the bedroom, picked up his suitcase, and, glancing at the other suitcases, one closed and one open, walked out of the bedroom. The cardinal was staring at him.

Carmody said, “I must go.”

“You’re not in shape to do so.”

“I know. But I will be.”

The doorbell rang. Doctor Apollonios entered, bag in hand. He said, “I’m sorry, Father. Here, this will help you.” He reached into his blouse pocket and brought out a pill.

Carmody shook his head. “I can make it all right. Who called you?”

“I did,” Faskins said. “I think you ought to take it.”

“Your authority doesn’t extend to medical matters,” Carmody answered. A soft tocsin note pealed through the room. He put down his suitcase and went to the wall. Opening a small cover, he removed a small, thin cylinder.

“The mail,” he said to no one in particular. He looked into the cubicle to see if any other mail was being recorded. The little red light was out. He closed the door and returned to his suitcase, tucking the letter into his beltbag.

On the way to the police morgue, the cardinal said, “I didn’t have the heart to ask you to go to Kareen, John. But since you yourself volunteered, I won’t object. Anna...”

“...Is only one human being, and the destiny of billions of others depends upon me,” Carmody finished for him. “Yes, I know.”

The cardinal said he would not leave this afternoon as he had planned. Despite the most pressing urgency to return to Rome, he would stay here and conduct Anna’s funeral. He would make all arrangements, including the police investigation. After Carmody got to Kareen, he could expect to receive news, by letter or courier, about the results of the investigation.

“The police,” Carmody said listlessly. “I wonder who could have hated me enough to kill Anna. She had no enemies. But won’t the police delay me with their questions so I’ll miss the ship?”

“Leave that to me,” Faskins said.

Afterward, Carmody was unclear about much that happened. He lifted the sheet without any apprehension or agony and gazed for a moment at the blackened, open- mouthed face. He repeated to the police captain what he had told the cardinal. No, he had no idea who could have planted the bomb. Somebody had returned from a past Carmody had hoped would be forever obliterated and had killed Anna.

The two priests started toward the port in a taxi. They passed the headquarters of the Order of St. Jairus on Wildenwooly. Twenty-three years ago, the building had been on the outer edge of a small town. Now it was in the heart of the large capital city of the planet. Where there had been no buildings more than two stories high, dozens now reached above twenty stories. Where a man once could have walked from the center of town to its borders in twenty minutes, he would now have to walk from dawn to dusk. All the streets were paved, and most of the highways out into the farmlands were covered with griegite. When John Carmody had first come here as a lay brother of the order, he had muddied his sandals the moment he had stepped from the exit of the spaceport. And the buildings of the town had been logs and mortar...

Anna. If he had not married her, he would now be sitting behind the huge shiny desk in the main office. He would be supervising the ecclesiastical affairs of his Church on a planet as large as Earth. True, Wildenwooly had a population of only fifty million, but this was fifty times what it had been when Carmody had first set foot here. It was a paradise of elbow room. Earth was jammed with people raw from rubbing against each other’s skins.

Anna. If she had not married him, she would be alive today. But when he had told her that he was not sure he was doing the right thing by marrying her, she had told him she would go into a convent if she could not have him. He had laughed then and told her that she was being romantic and unrealistic. She needed a man. And if she could not have him, she would eventually find another.

There had been a furious quarrel, after which they had fallen into each other’s arms. The next day, he had taken ship to Earth to make his annual report. He had spent two weeks there and left, glad to get off Earth and eager to see Anna again. The Vatican was now a cube a half-mile wide. It housed not only the Holy Father but the millions needed to run the complex government of the Church on Earth and on Earth’s forty colonist planets, and the people who furnished services and goods and their families. It also contained a titanic protein-computer second in size only to the Federation’s Og Boojum.