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have said anything to offend them?'

She frowned, mystified. 'I don't think so. We just talked about the new wing.'

"You know, I really wanted you to get the job of Director of Research.'

She was alarmed. 'I don't like your use of the past tense!'

He went on: 'Len Ross is a competent scientist, but you're exceptional. You've achieved more than him and you're ten years younger.'

'The Foundation is backing Len for the job?'

He hesitated, looking awkward. 'I'm afraid they're insisting on it, as a condition of their grant.'

'The hell they are!' Billie was stunned.

'Do you know anyone connected with the Foundation?'

Yes. One of my oldest friends is a trustee. His name is Anthony Carroll, he's godfather to my son.'

'Why is he on the board? What does he do for a living?'

'He works for the State Department, but his mother is very wealthy, and he's involved with several charities.'

'Does he have a grudge against you?'

For a moment, Billie slipped back in time. She had been angry with Anthony, after the catastrophe that led to Luke's leaving Harvard, and they never dated again. But she forgave him because of how he behaved toward Elspeth. Elspeth had gone into a decline, letting her academic work slide, and was in danger of failing to graduate. She walked around in a daze, a pale ghost with long red hair, getting thinner and missing classes. It was Anthony who rescued her. They became close, though the relationship was a friendship rather than a romance. They studied together, and she caught up enough to pass. Anthony won back Billie's respect, and they had been friends ever since.

Now she told Charles: 'I got kind of mad at him, back in 1941, but we made it up long ago.'

'Maybe someone on the board admires Len's work.'

Billie considered. 'Len's approach is different from mine. He's a Freudian, he looks for psychoanalytical explanations. If a patient suddenly loses the ability to read, he assumes they have some unconscious fear of literature, a fear that is being suppressed. I would always look for damage to the brain as the likeliest cause.'

'So there might be a keen Freudian on the board who is against you.'

T guess.' Billie sighed. 'Can they do this? It seems so unfair.'

'It's certainly unusual,' Charles said. 'Foundations normally make a point of not interfering with decisions requiring professional expertise. But there's no law against it'

'Well, I'm not going to take this lying down. What reason did they give?'

'I got an informal call from the chairman. He told me the board feels Len is better qualified.'

Billie shook her head. "There has to be another explanation.'

'Why don't you ask your friend?'

"That's exactly what I'm going to do,' she said.

3.45 P.M.

A stroboscope was used to determine exactly where weights should be placed so that the spinning tub would be perfectly balanced - otherwise the inner cage would vibrate within the outer frame, causing the whole assembly to disintegrate.

Luke had looked at his street map of Washington before leaving the Georgetown University campus. "The Institute was in a park called the Mall. He checked his watch as he drove along K Street He would be at the Smithsonian in about ten minutes. Assuming it took him another five to find the lecture theatre, he should arrive as the talk was ending. Then he would find out who he was.

It was almost eleven hours since he had awakened to this horror. Yet, because he could remember nothing from before five o'clock this morning, it seemed to have been going on all his life.

He turned right on 9th Street, heading south towards the Mall with high hopes. A few moments later, he heard a police siren blip once, and his heart skipped a beat

He looked in his rear-view mirror. A police cruiser was on his tail, lights flashing. There were two cops o the front seat. One pointed toward the right-hand kerb and mouthed:'Pull over.'

Luke was devastated. He had almost made it.

Could it be that he had committed some minor traffic violation, and they wanted to ticket him? Even if that were all, they would still ask for his driving licence, and he had no kind of identification. Anyway, this was not about a minor traffic violation. He was driving a stolen car. He had calculated that the theft would go unreported until the owner got back from Philadelphia later tonight, but something had gone wrong. They intended to arrest him.

But they would have to catch htm first

He clicked into escape mode. Ahead of him