"I require your full cooperation, and it would be most troubling to me if I thought. . you were keeping something from me I should know."
"Look, Dr. Slycke," I said carefully, "I've sensed your suspicion and hostility toward me from the moment we met, and I don't understand it. I don't want to interfere with clinic procedures, and I certainly don't want to upset anybody. All I want is to be with my brother, regardless of whether or not he knows I'm there. Is that so difficult to understand? What's the problem?"
"Your brother isn't in the secure unit. What were you doing there?"
"I was just looking around," I said with a shrug. "As a matter of fact, I'm very impressed with your operation. You should be commended."
"Why were you looking around the clinic?"
"No particular reason," I said, seeing that flattery was going to get me nowhere with Charles Slycke. "I was just curious."
"Did you ask Mr. Carling to take you there?"
"Look, Doctor," I said after a moment's hesitation, "I don't want Mr. Carling to get into trouble because you're peeved with me. I've watched him working with Garth, and I've very pleased. He seems to me an excellent nurse. When he invited me to accompany him on his rounds, he was just trying to be friendly and courteous. Where's the harm in that?"
Slycke frowned slightly. "Then it was Mr. Carling who suggested you look around?"
"Yes. As I said, he was just trying-"
"And you didn't demand to be shown the secure unit?"
"Demand? I didn't even ask; I didn't even know you had a secure unit. I keep telling you; my only real interest is in being near my brother while he's sick."
Slycke studied me with his watery eyes, apparently pondering my answer, then seemed to relax slightly. "Mr. Carling was a fool to take you into the secure unit. Marion Baker hears voices that tell him to kill dwarfs."
"Obviously, Mr. Carling wasn't aware of that."
"Ignorance of the danger is no excuse for foolishly exposing you to it. Can you imagine the explaining I'd have to do if Baker had harmed you?"
"I can take care of myself, Dr. Slycke, thank you very much," I said evenly. "Besides, what difference does it make? My being there was my responsibility, not yours. No regulations were broken; it's my understanding that the ID badge I'm wearing gives me unlimited access to all areas of the clinic."
It had been the wrong thing to say; Slycke straightened up in his chair, and his round face grew dark. "Are you going to tell me what your rights are in this facility?"
"It's the furthest thing from my mind, Doctor," I replied quietly.
"I run this clinic!"
"Most assuredly, Doctor. I didn't mean to offend you. I just want to look after my brother and mind my own business."
"Is that what you thought you were doing when you accepted an invitation from a nurse to wander around a secret facility? Did you think you were minding your own business?"
Charles Slycke was beginning to try my patience, which could be in short supply even under the best of circumstances. I was perfectly willing to offer obeisance to him just so that he wouldn't be distracted from thinking about my brother, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that nothing I could say to him was going to make any difference-and I couldn't help but wonder why.
"Why don't you tell me what's really on your mind, Dr. Slycke? You've been on my case since the moment I walked in here. Do you have a thing about dwarfs, too?"
The psychiatrist leaned back in his swivel chair, narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised his chin slightly. "Were you sent here to spy on me?"
I shook my head slightly. "Come again?"
"Our previous conversation leads me to believe that your hearing is perfectly all right."
"Who the hell would send me to spy on you?"
"That senile old man in the Pentagon that the president sees fit to keep on as Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency," Slycke said in a tight voice that trembled slightly.
"You're referring to Mr. Lippitt?"
"Of course I'm referring to Mr. Lippitt!" Slycke snapped. "Did he send you here to spy on me?!"
"You have got to be kidding."
"Answer me!"
Anger welled in me, and I struggled to control it. I looked down at the backs of my hands and took a series of deep breaths before again looking up at the florid-faced man sitting behind the desk. "I'm not a spy for anybody, Slycke," I said quietly. "If you and Mr. Lippitt have some kind of personal feud going on, that's your business. I want no part of it."
"The man is incompetent! He's too old for that job!"
"In your opinion."
"What did he say about me?!"
"He didn't say anything about you; in fact, he never even mentioned your name. He had Garth transferred here because-and he said this-he considers this the best facility of its kind. It seems to me that the obvious ill will is all on your part."
"Oh? And is that why he sent a man who isn't even a D.I.A. employee to a secret D.I.A. facility?!"
"Now you're being disingenuous, Doctor. You know perfectly well why Garth is here-to care for him, yes, but also to keep whatever is learned from his experience with NPPD safely under wraps within the intelligence community."
"Yes, but that doesn't explain why you come as part of the package. What are you doing here?"
"Garth is my brother, for Christ's sake."
"Being a relative of a patient doesn't entitle you to a Z-13 identity badge. This procedure is absolutely unprecedented, and it's an unacceptable breach of security."
"Whoa. There's been no breach of security, and there won't be-at least not on my part. Now, you may consider me a security risk, but Mr. Lippitt obviously doesn't think I am. He personally signed this badge, which makes me his responsibility, not yours. So maybe you should just get on with your business, which is healing, and let Mr. Lippitt worry about whether or not I'm a security risk."
"But why should he give you such privileges and. . authority?"
"Are you suggesting that either Mr. Lippitt or I would take advantage of my brother's condition just to spy on you?" I snapped, no longer even making an effort to contain my anger. "Maybe you think we poisoned him in order to sneak me in here? If Mr. Lippitt wanted to spy on you, don't you think-as senile and incompetent as you may believe him to be-he could have thought of a subtler way of doing it than sending me here? If you'll pardon a momentary lapse in good manners and taste, I'm telling you that's insane."
Surprisingly, my angry outburst seemed to have a calming effect on the other man. Slycke blinked slowly, then seemed to slump slightly in his chair. "I'm saying you have no business carrying a Z-13 pass, because you have no official business here. Is it any wonder I'm suspicious?"
"Garth is my official business, Doctor."
"You're a college professor. How can you spend all this time away from your classes?"
"I resigned."
"What are you living on while you spend all your time hanging around here?"
"That's none of your business, Slycke," I replied curtly. "This is how I choose to spend my time until my brother gets well."
"Your brother may never get well."
"Thanks a lot, Doctor; you've got a great bedside manner."
"I've heard rumors that you and your brother have a close personal relationship with Mr. Lippitt."
"That's also none of your business."
"You're a licensed private investigator!" Slycke was getting himself worked up again.
"So what?"
"A licensed private investigator, carrying a Z-13 badge, here under the auspices of a man who may well bear a personal grudge against me!"
"If Mr. Lippitt bore a personal grudge against you, Dr. Slycke, he wouldn't have sent me to tell you about it."