I told her all about my erstwhile job at Solar Sales, and my mental
bloc regarding females. When I finished, she was fighting a grin. It
was a losing fight. The grin won.
"If I'd known that, I'd have skipped that steak knife and just entered
in a bikini," she said.
"You wouldn't have to go even that far," I told her. "One friendly wink
of your big blue eyes and I'd be putty."
Snow raised her eyebrows appraisingly. "Hmmm. I'll have to remember
that in the future." It was in fun, but I caught a tinge of serious
consideration in it. It gave me an uneasy feeling, a feeling that
brought me sharply back to my main query, from which I'd been
sidetracked a few moments before.
"But you still haven't told me why you came in here."
"To find you. I figured that if an Amnesty-bearer was on his way to
Mars, there was big trouble. And I think I know what the trouble is,
but I need some of the answers you can give me."
"What do you want with government information?" I said, trying to be
stiffly formal. "And what makes you think I'd give it to you?"
"Two reasons," she said, answering my last question first. "I can
simply wink a big blue eye--unless you've been pulling my leg--and get
all the information I desire."
"That's only one reason," I said carefully. "What else makes you think
I'd tell you the information?"
Snow eyed me soberly, and her face hovered between grim determination
and fathomless concern. "My brother Ted is one of the missing Space
Scouts."
6
"Don't pretend," Snow said. "I know. The last two letters from Ted
convinced me something was wrong. He never wrote those letters."
I thought of Baxter's agents sweltering to turn out perfect facsimiles
of children's letters, all for nothing. I sighed, and determined to
make one last effort to keep the secret a secret. "You're imagining
things. Sometimes, when a person is in an alien environment--which you
must admit a strange planet is--their outlook changes a bit."
She was staring at me, her eyes disconcertingly steady, just waiting
for me to complete my lie, hardly listening to me. I gave it up and
stopped. Snow, seeing I was through, unclasped her handbag and handed
me a letter.
I read it through. When I was finished, I looked at her with what I
hoped was a noncommittal expression.
"See what I mean?" said Snow. "Three _l_'s in _really_, and terrible
spellings of _ancient_ and _Martian_. But words like ruins and
civilization come through perfectly. It's an obvious attempt on the
part of someone to deceive me. I just know something's wrong. That's
why I drained my savings account and took this flight. I've got to find
out what's happened."
"You could have gone to the police." I suggested lamely.
"I did." Snow's voice was cold and flat. "They laughed at me, said I
was imagining things. I don't really blame them; all I have to go on
is a hunch. That, plus the fact that Ted didn't say anything in our
special code."
I closed my eyes and groaned. She would have a special code with her
brother! "Sure he didn't simply overlook it?" I tried.
Snow's face was solemnly earnest. "In one letter, by the longest
stretch of the imagination, possibly. But not two in a row." She leaned
forward, her eyes housing desperation. "So when I learned that you, an
Amnesty-bearer, were aboard, I just knew it had to be connected with
whatever happened to Ted. There is something wrong, isn't there!"
I hesitated, wondering what to do. This thing was a tightly kept
secret, one which I'd sworn to keep. On the other hand, Snow had the
most devastating blue eyes. I shifted in my position and felt cold
metal bump lightly against my chest beneath my blouse. I'd forgotten
about the Amnesty. Hell! I was the most influential, powerful person in
the universe, wasn't I? If I wanted to plaster the secret across the
face of the moon, no one had the authority to say no. Not even Baxter,
however purple he might turn at the idea, could tell me not to do
anything! And hadn't I been picked by the Brain? Didn't that mean that
my instincts in this thing would be the correct ones?
I took one more look into her deep blue eyes and decided that even if
it was the most disastrous thing to do, I was going to tell her the
truth.
"It depends on what you mean by _wrong_," I said.