"Cash! If your personal life can stand it?…" Railsback. The way he had come on all week, life at home must have become hell.

Cash glanced at Beth, who just smirked and mouthed, I tried to warn you.

Once he turned, before he could say anything, Railsback snapped, "What the hell have you been up to this time?"

Cash thought he was still pissed about not being able to get in touch. Wrong. As soon as he started to explain, Railsback interrupted.

"You shook a nut tree is what you did. I got a bunch of goddamned flying saucer freaks coming in here tomorrow. Here. They didn't even ask, they told me. Why can't you just write this creep off? You have to put our careers on the line over him? And don't bug the old lady no more, either. Last time you did I had a whole platoon of ambulance chasers shaking my phone off the wall."

Surprise and surprise, Cash thought. DeKeersgeiter had moved fast. Cash hadn't suspected the man was that interested. And this was the first the lieutenant had mentioned the lawyers. Which meant that he had gone to bat for his troops. He wasn't as bad as he pretended.

"Look, Hank, there's got to be an angle on this thing. And Miss Groloch's in it up to her pointy ears. And covering up. You don't haul out the legal talent if you're not feeling guilty, not just 'cause you got a little pressure from a cop. Not if you're an old timer. Kids these days are something else. And we got prints, remember? With that we might be able to get a search warrant. Speaking of prints, whatever happened to the paper that came off of that doll?"

Railsback looked thoughtful, then sheepish. "I sent it over to FBI."

"That old, huh?"

"Looked like."

"Well, I'm not letting go. Not even if I have to bring in Gypsies with crystal balls."

Railsback was less angry than he pretended. He grinned, made a dirty crack, said, "Norm, I read the Carstairs file, too. The sonofabitch didn't let go for eight years. And he didn't get anywhere. How come you think you'll do better?"

"Because I already have, Hank. I've got a print, and I've gotten a rise out of Miss Groloch. She gave me an angle herself, but I haven't had time to follow it up." He explained the connection with Egan's Rats. "Hank, it might get tough, but I won't give up. It doesn't seem rational, but I think there's a connection between a 1921 murder without a victim and a 1975 victim without a murderer. I'm not saying Miss Groloch had anything to do with it. I'm not saying this is O'Brien from twenty-one. I'm just saying there's a connection. And she's holding out on us."

"Personally, I think you're full of shit, and ain't got a snowball's chance. You won't get her to talk. She's tough, Norm."

"Maybe not. But maybe I'll find the right lever. You've got to keep plugging."

"I hope you've got a guy like you for a sergeant when you've got my job, Norm. Like Harald. Tied to you like a can. But you're a good cop most of the time. Go on. Haul ass before I find something for you to do."

Cash got out of his way, and out of the station as soon as he could. Beth's bemused smile pursued him all the way.

Major Tran turned out to be a friendly, energetic little man who resembled Marshal Ky in Ben Franklin glasses. He wore them perched on the tip of his nose, peering over their tops.

Cash's first impression was Walter Mitty, bookkeeper, not the hardnosed hero-cop on record.

Tran had the language pat and the customs near enough to get by. Cash supposed he could have passed as Nissi had he so desired. They shook hands, started feeling one another put while Annie mixed drinks. She had gone to the bus station after all, and had arrived home just as Cash was getting out of his own car. He had paid the cab for her.

"I'm a martini addict," said Tran. After a sip, "Your wife mixes a good one."

"Rum and coke man myself, when I break doctor's orders. And tonight I need one."

"Bad day?"

"Aren't any good ones anymore. Just some not as bad as others. We're under siege."

"Ah. The Great American Lament. Overworked and underpaid."

Cash chuckled. "Overworked, anyway. I don't know. It just seems like everything's coming apart. And nobody cares. Not enough to get off their butts and do something."

"Norm," said Annie, "I don't think Major Tran is ready for that." She had put on the warning frown usually reserved for grandchildren.

Tran had been westernized. He didn't blink at the interruption. He held up a hand, smiled, said, "Rather say it's a problem I knew too well. It's not uniquely American, though it seems to come with Americanization."

Cash frowned, wondered if the man were being critical. Flashes of old news clips rambled across his mind. He saw the man's point. Saigon, in part, had become cardboard America, a cheap imitation of the cultural exporter's already tawdry features.

"Don't mind my grumps," Cash told him. "I've got an especially frustrating case."

"Miss Groloch again?" Annie asked.

"Still." The doorbell rang. "That'll be John." He started to rise.

"I'll get it." Annie hurried doorward, presumably anticipating feminine companionship. While she was being disappointed Tran asked about the case and Cash sketched it for him.

"Most curious," he said. "And interesting. Amidst a war one hasn't time for such delicate investigations. I've always been fond of the outrй. Have you read Conan Doyle?"

"Sherlock Holmes? A little. His cases didn't seem that unusual."

"In the context of his times…"

John came in trying to placate Annie for not having brought Carrie. Cash made the introductions. "I was just telling Major Tran about the O'Brien thing. Might as well fill you in. Rails-back didn't give me a chance this afternoon."

When Cash finished describing his visit to Dr. DeKeersgeiter, John said, "Hank'll really love you now. Flying saucers!"

"Oh, he does. What he wished on me was to have you as my second for the rest of my life." They chuckled together, then Cash asked, "I take it you like UFOs better than time machines."

"A hell of a lot. I can believe it. Only it's just as hard to prove."

"I don't." Just thinking about it made him queasy. "Too many late shows, I guess. Bodysnatchers, like that." Then, "John, what're we doing? Dammit, I'm sitting here taking it seriously when we should be trying to figure out what really happened. But I'm going to let those saucer nuts work on it. It'll keep them out of our hair."