"He touched you, too, didn't he?" she said after watching him for a long moment.
"Rubbish! I didn't have anything that needed curing."
"No. I mean the other way—with his own personal touch— the one he's had all along. His empathy, his caring."
"He really does care, doesn't he?" Charles said. "I thought it was an act, part of the dedicated, hardworking family doctor role he was playing. You know: foot soldier on the front lines in the neverending battle against death and disease, and all that sort of rot. But he's the real thing. And I always thought someone like him would be a wimp who'd carry his devotion to his practice like a cross. But he's a man.'" Charles bit his lower lip. "Jesus! The things I thought about him! Said about him!"
Sylvia gave him a hug. "Now maybe you can understand why he's been staying here."
Charles looked at her. She saw pain in his eyes, but it was distant, and fading. "I daresay I do. And I hope you're both very happy together."
"You called for me, Missus?" Ba said from the doorway.
"Oh, yes, Ba. Did you bring that poem—the one about the Dat-tay-vao?"
He handed it to her and she read it to Charles:
"It seeks but will not be sought.
It finds but will not be found.
It holds the one who would touch,
Who would cut away pain and ill.
But its blade cuts two ways
And will not be turned.
If you value your well-being,
Impede not its way.
Treat the Toucher doubly well,
For he bears the weight
Of the balance that must be struck."
Sylvia turned to Charles. "See? 'He bears the weight of the balance that must be struck.' That sounds like what's happening to Alan: Every time he uses the Touch, it takes something from him. For every something given, something is taken away."
"Sounds like a variation on the old 'No Such Thing as a Free Lunch' thing: Somewhere along the line somebody gets stuck with the bill. But that's not what concerns me most right now. We should waste no time setting the wheels in motion to get Alan out of the Foundation."
"Won't he be getting out tonight? He'll use the Dat-tay-vao on the senator and then he'll be on his way."
"I don't think so," Charles said with a slow shake of his head. "Alan was mad—I mean really angry when I told him how McCready had set him up."
"You don't think he'll refuse to heal him, do you?" Sylvia said, her alarm slipping back on her. "That's not like Alan."
"You didn't see his eyes. And if McCready doesn't get what he wants, he won't let Alan go."
"But he can't hold him!"
"He can for a while. I thought he had destroyed all of Alan's original test results, but now that I think of it, I'll bet he kept the originals of his psychological profiles."
"Why?"
"Because Alan scores out as a bloody paranoid schiz. They could hold him on the grounds that he's dangerous to himself or others."
"I'll call Tony," Sylvia said, angry as well as frightened now. "He'll turn that place upside down."
"Don't count on it, Sylvia. Those profiles, along with the Foundation's reputation and the senator's personal influence… well, it could be a long time before we spring Alan."
"Pardon me," said Ba, who hadn't moved from the doorway. "But does the Missus want the Doctor returned from the Foundation?"
"Yes, Ba," she said, noting the hint of eagerness in his voice. She knew how highly he regarded Alan. "Any ideas?"
"I shall go there and bring him back."
He said it so matter-of-factly, yet Sylvia saw the determination in his eyes.
"Forget it!" Charles said with a laugh. "The Foundation's security is airtight."
"I have been there many times with the Missus. I shall go there tonight and bring the Doctor back."
Charles laughed again. But Sylvia watched Ba's face, remembering what Greg had told her about the simple fisherman who had attached himself to the Ranger group and trained with them, and whom Greg had said he wanted most at his side in any combat situation. Ba wanted to do this. And Sylvia realized with a sudden tingle of excitement that she wanted him to do it.
"Very well, Ba. But be careful."
The smile dropped from Charles' face as if he had been shot. "What? Just like that? Go get Alan? Are you crazy?"
Sylvia returned Ba's grateful little bow, but stopped him as he turned to make his exit. "Wait, Ba." She turned to Charles. "Would you draw a few floor plans and tell him where you think Alan may be? It would greatly help matters."
"But this is insane! Security will be all over him as soon as he sets foot inside!"
"Let's hope Ba doesn't have to hurt too many of them." She was enjoying the befuddled expressions playing over Charles' face.
He finally settled down and she watched as he sketched out the floor plans of the upper levels. Ba leaned over them in silence.
"Where's Alan now?" Sylvia asked. She didn't know why, but it was important to her to know the location of his room.
"Most likely he's still in the seventh-floor patient wing— room 719—but he could be anywhere in the complex." He pointed to a section of the top floor. "Your safest bet is here: Alan will be in McCready's private quarters between 9:45 and 10:45 tonight."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I remember my chart saying that high tide is 10:18 tonight. That would probably be the best place and time to find him."
Ba shook his head. "The best time is when he is between. It would be very hard to enter the senator's private place."
Charles was looking at him with new respect. "That makes good sense, old boy. I daresay you might bring this off after all. Although I sincerely doubt it." He took off his lab coat. "Here. Take this. I can't imagine any place or circumstance in the Foundation where you wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb, but this might make you less conspicuous."
"Want to go along, Charles?"
He smiled sardonically. "Sounds like I'd have a wonderful time—I'm especially entranced by the possibility of being arrested for breaking and entering and spending a few nights in a New York City jail. No, Love. I'll pass on this. Doubt if I'd be much use anyway. They know me there, and all security shifts have surely been informed that I'm persona non grata. And besides, I've got to get home to Julie. A functioning renal system is still a very new thing for her. I want to be there if she needs me."
That reminded Sylvia that she would have to catch Gladys and ask her to stay with Jeffy for a few hours while she was out. She waited until Ba showed Charles out, then caught him as he headed back toward the garage.
"I'm coming along tonight, Ba," she told him, and watched the usually placid features reflect his bewilderment and concern.
"Missus, there might be trouble! You cannot come!"
"Oh, but I must, Ba. And if you won't have me along, I'll drive there on my own. So let's not waste time arguing."
"But why, Missus?"
Sylvia thought about that. Why, indeed? Why get personally involved in something like this when Ba could probably do just as well on his own? Maybe it was because she felt so helpless in the face of Jeffy's regression. Would this make her feel useful? She wasn't sure, and it really didn't matter. She only knew she loved Alan and wanted to be there for him. And that was enough.