"Not listed," Belarius said after a glance at his book. He turned to Frumpkin. "That's it, let's report back, and we'll just put this fellow on hold. Later, a brain-scrape will soon have the facts out of him."
"Wait!" Lafayette demanded. "You can't just go off and. leave Aphasia to dissolve back into entropic energy—"
"Aha! So you do know something!"
"You told me," O'Leary said hastily. "Sure, I know about planes of reality and all that; I've been in enough of 'em. But this time I didn't meddle. I was just sitting in the garden with Daphne, and all of a sudden—"
"Get him over here, Belarius," Frumpkin cut him off. "The shift zone on this portable rig is pretty small, you know. We wouldn't want to leave even this poor boob stranded in half-phase." Belarius manhandled O'Leary into the indicated spot.
"Daphne's around here, somewhere!" O'Leary blurted. "If you leave her—"
"This Daphne is also a native of Colby Corners?" Belarius asked without interest.
"No—and neither am I—I just grew up there, in the orphanage, you know. Daphne's an Artesian, born and bred ... You can't go off and leave her stranded here!"
"What about it, Frumpkin?" Belarius queried his colleague. "Hadn't we best check this out?"
"Damn right!" O'Leary yelled. "You can't go creating a phase violation, remember, even if you are inhumane enough to strand a helpless girl in this dismal place. YAC-19 wouldn't like it," he added.
"I suppose we'll have to fetch her along," Frumpkin conceded. "Where is she, fellow, hiding in a dark corner?" He looked about the shadowy room in a show of confusion.
"How do I know, Flapkin, or whatever your dumb name is?" O'Leary demanded. "Release me, and I'll try to find her. I thought she must have come this way, but I was wrong—unless you two sharpies grabbed her and sent her off somewhere with that suitcase of yours."
"By no means, Mr. O'Leary. By the way, Frumpkin," Belarius shifted his attention to his associate. "-Since he's had the effrontery to preempt the honored name of Lancelot O'Leary—"
"Not Lancelot!" Lafayette cut in. "Lafayette! And not Ladislaw, or Lohengrin, or Lafcadio, or any of those other nerds from other loci. That's L-A-F-A-Y-E-T-T-E!"
"To be sure," Frumpkin murmured, ruffling the pages of his handbook. "The O'Leary. Of course. Why claim descent from any lesser O'Leary?"
"Descent my elbow!" O'Leary snorted. "I am Lafayette O'Leary! The same one who got your great-grandpap or whatever out of the soup the time Quelius made his play. Except for me, old B-I would still be fending off Jemimah in the royal swine-pen!"
Frumpkin was eyeing O'Leary intently. "I suppose a grand delusion is no more trouble than a petty one," he mused aloud, with a glance at Belarius.
"Just for the record," the latter suggested, "why not take a few Zeta readings on him? His mention of Quelius suggests he may know something. The Quelius file is top SBR classification, you'll recalclass="underline" the hush order came from the top. So this chap can't be as insignificant as he appears."
"Very well," Frumpkin agreed, "but frankly, I think he's bluffing. A quick scan at about D-level?"
"A full class-A Zeta," Belarius corrected in a solemn tone. "If there's anything here at all, it's likely to be a major fault."
"A fault? Not in our records, I should hope," Frumpkin replied as he turned to Lafayette, extending what looked like an electrified acupuncture needle. "Just hold still, won't take a moment," he said soothingly, reaching for Lafayette's arm.
"How could I do otherwise, trussed up in this magic hair-net of yours?" O'Leary demanded. "You're not going to stick that thing in me, are you?" he inquired in a less-than-optimistic tone.
"Just a contact device," Frumpkin reassured him. The touch of the thin stiff wire was icy cold, and tingled. Frumpkin ran it along O'Leary's arm while consulting dials in his suitcase, his expression grave.
"I say!" Belarius exclaimed after a glance at the dials.
"Just so," Frumpkin concurred expressionlessly. Both men turned quickly to eye Lafayette without visible approval.
"Where have you hidden it?" Belarius barked. Before Lafayette could protest, Frumpkin said sternly: "Young man, it is now quite clear that you have not only committed the gravest offence in the Civil Code, but have compounded the crime with a breach of the Primary Regulation itself—though how you managed such villainy remains obscure, I concede."
"A mystery which will be elucidated promptly, once the full attention of I-Branch is focused upon you, 'Mr. O'Leary', as I assure you it will be in a very few minutes now," Belarius elaborated and gestured curtly to Frumpkin. "Power-up the shift-field," he commanded.
"Wait!" Lafayette yelled. "What if I really am Lafayette O'Leary; after all, your own gadgets are telling you I'm not just a routine case."
With a keen glance at Belarius, Frumpkin said quietly, "We might be justified in holding him for higher-level review ..."
"You said we've got seventy-two hours!" Lafayette cried. "Let me go, and I'll find Daphne, and you can at least shift her to a more civilized locus! Where's your chivalry?"
Belarius and Frumpkin muttered together; then Belarius touched a button on the panel in the trunk, and Lafayette felt the net fall away. He looked down, saw what looked like a wire coat hanger bent into a wad; he picked it up and, as Frumpkin jostled past him, dropped it in the latter's pocket, from which it at once extruded a questing tendril. Frumpkin halted abruptly, uttered a croak, and made an abortive grab at the filaments now busily trussing his biceps, before coming to rest red-faced, his arms half-raised.
"What is it, Frumpy?" Belarius inquired casually of his subordinate. "Just remember something?" Then he came over to drape a comradely arm over the other's shoulders, started back with a yelp, and froze, locked to Frumpkin.
"Seems your magic hair-net has a few bugs," Lafayette said. "It can't tell its boss from the other guy. So just hang loose, gentlemen, until I get back."
While the two Primary inspectors made inarticulate sounds behind him, Lafayette went to the telephone box, seized the stubs of the cut wires, and tapped the exposed conductors together. A tiny pink spark jumped. Encouraged, he went on, tapping out an SOS in Morse, then amplified his message: TRAPPED IN N-'S TOWER BY BELARIUS V AND ONE FRUMPKIN FROM PRIMARY QUERY GET ME OUT OF HERE DASH DAPHNE TOO STOP.
That done, he listened at the door. Hearing nothing, he opened it half an inch and was instantly thrust backward as a small, whiskery man even shorter and uglier than Trog burst through. As Lafayette regained his balance, the newcomer turned on him, raising a stone ax, but froze at the boom of a resonant voice from across the room:
"Stop where you are, Murg."
"Geeze, Allegorus hisself!" Murg croaked, the ax dropping from his hand. Lafayette turned to see a tall, cloak-wrapped figure stepping in through the open French doors from the balcony.
The newcomer shot O'Leary a single sharp glance from piercing eyes which were the only part of his face visible in the deep shadows of the hood over his head; then he went directly across the room to confront Belarius and Frumpkin.
"Stand fast, O'Leary," he called over his shoulder before he began a low-voiced conversation with the two, who responded to the terse questions with excited protestations:
"... line of inquiry!"
"... desperate criminal!"
"... got to be done!"
"... my career!"
At last the hooded stranger turned away, and the two Nuclear agents fell strangely silent, still standing in rigid postures as if awaiting a command to resume activity. As the tall intruder approached, O'Leary began organizing his confused thoughts, readying his first question.