“I’ve seen taliza addicts before. You’re not telling me anything new.” Rob’s face was expressionless, but his total attention was on Anson.

“Then perhaps this will be new to you.” Howard Anson had dropped the facade of graceful charm. He was coldly serious and purposeful. “You heard and saw Senta trigger on your name tonight when she went into taliza trance. What you don’t know is that it isn’t the first time she has done it. I’ve seen the same thing, six times. What I want to know is, have you two ever met before? If so, when was it and where?”

“Never.” Rob saw Anson’s skeptical expression. “I’m quite positive of that. We haven’t met — I’d have remembered her, so would any man. In any case, she didn’t trigger on my name at all. She triggered on my father’s name, Gregor Merlin. That’s why I’ve been so puzzled, and why I’m willing to sit here and talk about it so late at night. He died long ago — before I was born.”

“Your father.” Anson drew in a deep breath. “And you are twenty-seven now, according to the file on you.”

“Twenty-seven and a half.” Rob was solemn.

“Then you think that Senta is cycling back into something that happened almost thirty years ago?” Anson tugged suddenly at his collar to loosen it, spoiling the perfect line of his crimson suit. “Do you understand the implications of that? Taliza addicts usually access the most recent memories first. It must have been an intense experience, to pull her so often that far into the past. Look, Merlin, do you know if your father was ever involved with both Joseph Morel and Darius Regulo?”

“Until tonight, I’d have said that he was not. Now, I’m not so sure. My mother died before I was born, as your files probably told you, so I have no one that I can really check it with. I met Regulo recently, and he didn’t admit to any knowledge of my mother or my father.”

“That doesn’t mean he has no such knowledge.”

“I know.” Rob sat silent for a while, his smooth face unreadable, his eyes far away. “Joseph Morel is another matter,” he said at last. “My parents worked at the Antigeria Labs in Christchurch, developing treatments for rejuvenation. Joseph Morel told me that he knew my father, but only when they were students together in Germany. Morel works for Regulo, but I’m not sure what he does for him. There’s the possibility of closer relationships that we don’t know about. I still don’t understand your interest, though, or what difference all these old facts can make.”

“All I want to do is to help Senta.” Anson’s manner had in it no trace now of the social charmer. “The treatments they have for curing taliza addiction don’t work. Maybe they’ll come across something in the next few years, maybe they won’t. At the moment, the only way that you can treat an addict is to weaken the triggers to the past. Either you treat them directly, with Lethe or some similar drug, or you avoid mention of them altogether. But it’s hard to avoid triggers if you don’t know why they are triggers. Reasonable?”

“Fair enough.” Rob nodded in agreement. “You think that Morel, Senta and I — or my father, more likely — are all tied together inside Senta’s brain. What we saw tonight would support that.”

“You, Morel, Senta, and something else. Something that I don’t understand at all. I’ve heard Senta use several different names for it — Goblins, the way we heard tonight, or the Minnies, or something that just sounds like letters, the XPs, or Expies. It is never clear what they are.”

Anson leaned forward, his face grim. “I can only tell you one more thing, and it’s something that I’ve never heard directly. I’ve deduced it by piecing things together from what Senta has said at different times when the taliza has taken hold. Whatever the connection is between those names, Senta doesn’t have it anywhere in her conscious mind. And it’s some terrible connection. It’s hidden deep down, and it only comes out at all when she is in taliza-trance.”

Rob was looking skeptical, in spite of Anson’s sincerity of manner and desperate conviction. “I don’t need to tell you how wild all that sounds,” he said. “Even if it’s true, what could I possibly do about it?”

“You can come with me and see Senta, in private. Not now,” Anson added quickly, seeing Rob’s expression. “Next time that it’s convenient for you. I think you may have other word triggers that would produce different memories in Senta. I don’t know what they might be, and I’ve run out of my own ideas without producing any results at all. We can’t help Senta until we know more about her troubles, but there must be some key words that will bring things out into the open. I think you may have the knowledge that will do it, though you are not aware yourself of its significance.”

Anson’s voice was soft and persuasive, but there was no mistaking the pleading tone. Senta Plessey had found at least one supporter who would stick with her through good times and bad.

After a few moments, Rob nodded agreement.

“I don’t know if it will work, but I’ll give it a try. Not for your sake, though, and not for Senta’s. For my own.” He was frowning, with a look that added years to his face. “Ever since I was old enough to understand, I’ve wondered and puzzled about the way my parents died. I was raised by my mother’s sister, and she said that their deaths were from natural causes. But it seemed to me they were too close together, and too strange. My father was killed in a fire in the labs, from unknown causes. A few hours later, thousands of miles away, my mother died in an aircraft crash. The crash was sabotage, a bomb on board, but they never caught the people who did it. It always seemed to me that the same group might have started the fire in the labs and set the bomb in the plane. When I was old enough I tried for years to find evidence, and came up with nothing. No officials were interested in a twenty-year-old case that led nowhere and had no suspects. Finally I just stopped looking and did my best to put it behind me. But you can see where Senta’s words tonight are taking me.”

Anson stood up. “I can. I may be able to help. I can run a full check on everything to do with your parents’ deaths.”

“For something that happened twenty-seven years ago?”

“Certainly.” Anson smiled. “You’d be surprised at what we can find out. All part of the service — that’s why it costs so much. Not in this case, of course. Naturally, there’ll be no charge.”

Rob stared at Anson curiously as the other man went over to the door. “Tell me, how much of this is for Senta and how much is your own curiosity? I suspect it takes a special sort of mind to run an Information Service — and I don’t mean a trick memory.”

Anson became pensive. He rubbed at the bridge of his thin nose, then spread his hands wide. “I wish I could answer that one myself. Even if I tell you that it’s all for Senta, I know from experience that a mystery like this eats away at me, somewhere deep inside my head, until I find answers. Maybe you’ll be able to help all of us, me and you, too. When will it be convenient for you to meet again with Senta?”

“I’ve been thinking about that while we were talking. We could do it at once, but I don’t think that’s the best idea. In a couple more weeks I’ll be going up to see Regulo at his home base. That should give me more of an idea what he’s like, and how his operation there functions. I may pick up things that can help trigger Senta’s memories. Unless you object, I think we ought to wait until I get back.”

Anson didn’t hide his disappointment. “That could mean a month’s delay.”

“Possibly. But whatever it is, it has waited for at least twenty-seven years. I don’t think another month will change anything.”

Anson paused with the door open behind him. “You’re right, I guess. It can wait a few more weeks. The trouble is, I don’t know if I can wait — I was itching to come over and talk to you all evening, ever since we met at the entrance to Way Down. I don’t know why it gets to me. Sometimes, I think I’d be a lot happier as a straightforward gigolo. I have no trouble being accepted as that by most of Senta’s friends.”