"Precisely. You want this girl, this Laniq Hadrien, for personal
reasons. She killed Fornswitthe. I want her for another reason. She
is guilty of the one crime our culture cannot tolerate. She will be
captured, Tedor. I'll assign a century agent to the job."
"No," said Tedor.
"Eh? What do you mean, no?"
"I want Laniq Hadrien. She's mine." If he lived forever he would never
forget her face last night in Fornswitthe's place, with Fornswitthe
dying on the floor. "I feel responsible, Ruscar. Forget the regulations
this one time."
"Regulations clearly say the century agent is responsible for his own
hundred years. Six to ten for a century, depending on its importance.
Apprentices for each one. Like you, all the agents did intensive work
in their own hundred years, learning the culture, mores, traditions.
You'd be at a terrible disadvantage if we let you go galavanting all
over time looking for the woman."
"I could always call on the century agents if I needed them," Tedor
insisted. "They all have plenty of work as it is, and I'm due for a
vacation. All right. Let me take the vacation my way. I want to look
for Laniq Hadrien. If I can do the job alone, that would be a big help
to the other agents."
"True."
"You have nothing to lose. Laniq was a fugitive before; she's a
fugitive now. The fact that she's a murderer doesn't particularly
interest you. Time tinkering is our line. But it interests me for
personal reasons: I feel responsible for my Apprentice's death."
"That's reasonable."
Ruscar was weakening, Tedor could sense it. "You have nothing to lose,
everything to gain. If I can find Laniq Hadrien while on vacation, no
man hours were lost. You're always talking about how few man-hours we
have."
Ruscar laughed softly. "You win, Tedor. I won't send out a general
alarm. I won't put any century agents on Laniq Hadrien--until your
vacation ends. You have one month."
"I'll find her," Tedor promised.
"Don't be so grim about it. Quite possibly Laniq represents far more
than herself. If her father disappeared in the mid-20th century,
perhaps he does know something about 1955. Maybe Laniq does, too. I
don't want you killing her."
"She's a murderer, not me. I'll get her for you, Ruscar."
Leaving Ruscar's apartment, Tedor rummaged through his pockets for a
pack of cigarettes. Agenting in the 20th century had left him with the
smoking habit--which made him think of Dorlup and his big cigars. What
did Dorlup know about Laniq Hadrien?
Why was Dorlup so interested in 1955, the year time-travel shunned like
the plague. Not out of direct choice: after all its advance billing,
1955 would draw a horde of curiosity seekers if nothing else. But
for some reason, no time-traveler could penetrate the year. It was
the one profound, inexplicable mystery of time-traveling, and coming
at the peak of the 20th century cold war, it left a lot of questions
unanswered. It presented two mysteries then. First, why couldn't time
machinery operate there? Second, what had happened in that crucial
year? Tedor wondered what Laniq Hadrien knew about it.
* * * * *
When Tedor reached the far end of the pavilion, the crowds thinned to
a trickle of people, most of whom were employed in the Eradrome. He
entered a hallway and found a door marked with the words: _Executive
Director, by appointment only_.