motion-
less and as gray as lead. Despite this, most of the citizens
seemed to think that conditions were returning to normal.
Businesses were open again, and cars were filling the
streets. The authorities, however, had warned those who
had left the area not to return if they had some place
to stay. The "unnatural" weather might continue in-
definitely. There was no explanation for it which could
be proved or even convincingly presented. But if normal
atmospheric conditions did return, it would be best for
those whose health was endangered by smog to stay
away, or to plan on returning only long enough to settle
their affairs before getting out.
Childe went to the supermarket, which was operating
at almost sixty percent normalcy, to stock up. The
sky was graying swiftly, and the peculiar ghastly light had
now spread over the sky from the horizon. It subdued
the human beings under its dome; they spoke less fre-
quently and more quietly and even the blaring of horns
was reduced.
The birds had not returned.
Childe called Igescu twice. The first time, a recording
said that all calls would be answered only after six. Childe
wondered why the recorded call of the evening before
had said he could phone in after three. Childe called
again a few minutes after six. Magda Holyani's low voice
answered.
Yes, Mr. Igescu would see him at eight that evening.
Sharp. And the interview would be over at nine. Mr.
Wellston would have to sign a paper which would re-
quire that any material to be published could be blue-
lined by Mr. Igescu. He could not bring a camera. The
chauffeur, Eric Glam, would meet Mr. Wellston at the
gate and would drive him up. Mr. Wellston's car would
have to be parked outside the wall.
Childe had hung up and taken three steps from the
phone when it rang. Bruin was calling. "Childe, the
report from the lab has been in for some time but I
didn't have a chance to see it until a coupla minutes
ago."
He paused. Childe said, "Well?"
"It was clean, just like Colben's car. Except for one
thing."
Bruin paused again. Childe felt a chill run over his
back and then up his neck and over his scalp. When he
heard Bruin, he had the feeling of déjà vu, of having
heard the words before under exactly identical circum-
stances. But it was not so much déjà vu as expectation.
"There were hairs on the front seat. Wolf hairs."
"You've changed your mind about the possible worth-
whileness of investigating Igescu?"
Bruin grunted and said, "We can't. Not just now. But,
yeah, I think you ought to. The wolf hairs were put on
the seat on purpose, obviously, since everything else was
so clean. Why? Who knows? I was looking for another
film, this time about Budler, but we didn't get any in.
So far."
"It could be just a coincidence," Childe said. "But in
case I don't report in to you by ten tonight, if it's
OK for me to call your house then you better call on the
baron."
"Hell, I probably won't be off duty by ten and no
telling where I'll be. I could have your call relayed, but
the lieutenant wouldn't like that, we're pretty tied up with
official calls and this wouldn't rate as that. No, call
Sergeant Mustanoja, he'll be on duty, and he'll take a
message for me. I'll contact him when I get time."
"Then let's make it eleven," Childe said. "Maybe I'll
get hung up out there."
"Not by the balls, I hope," Bruin said, and, laughing,
clicked the phone.
Childe felt his testicles withdraw a little. He did not
care much for Bruin's humor. Not while the film about
Colben was still bright in his mind.
He took three paces, and the phone rang again.
Magda Holyani said that she was sorry, but it was
necessary that the interview be put off until nine.
Childe said that it would make little difference to him.
Holyani said that that was nice and please make it nine sharp.
Childe called Bruin back to report the change in
plans. Bruin was gone, so he left a note with Sergeant
Mustanoja.
At 8:30 he drove out. From Beverly Boulevard, the
hills appeared
less and as gray as lead. Despite this, most of the citizens
seemed to think that conditions were returning to normal.
Businesses were open again, and cars were filling the
streets. The authorities, however, had warned those who
had left the area not to return if they had some place
to stay. The "unnatural" weather might continue in-
definitely. There was no explanation for it which could
be proved or even convincingly presented. But if normal
atmospheric conditions did return, it would be best for
those whose health was endangered by smog to stay
away, or to plan on returning only long enough to settle
their affairs before getting out.
Childe went to the supermarket, which was operating
at almost sixty percent normalcy, to stock up. The
sky was graying swiftly, and the peculiar ghastly light had
now spread over the sky from the horizon. It subdued
the human beings under its dome; they spoke less fre-
quently and more quietly and even the blaring of horns
was reduced.
The birds had not returned.
Childe called Igescu twice. The first time, a recording
said that all calls would be answered only after six. Childe
wondered why the recorded call of the evening before
had said he could phone in after three. Childe called
again a few minutes after six. Magda Holyani's low voice
answered.
Yes, Mr. Igescu would see him at eight that evening.
Sharp. And the interview would be over at nine. Mr.
Wellston would have to sign a paper which would re-
quire that any material to be published could be blue-
lined by Mr. Igescu. He could not bring a camera. The
chauffeur, Eric Glam, would meet Mr. Wellston at the
gate and would drive him up. Mr. Wellston's car would
have to be parked outside the wall.
Childe had hung up and taken three steps from the
phone when it rang. Bruin was calling. "Childe, the
report from the lab has been in for some time but I
didn't have a chance to see it until a coupla minutes
ago."
He paused. Childe said, "Well?"
"It was clean, just like Colben's car. Except for one
thing."
Bruin paused again. Childe felt a chill run over his
back and then up his neck and over his scalp. When he
heard Bruin, he had the feeling of déjà vu, of having
heard the words before under exactly identical circum-
stances. But it was not so much déjà vu as expectation.
"There were hairs on the front seat. Wolf hairs."
"You've changed your mind about the possible worth-
whileness of investigating Igescu?"
Bruin grunted and said, "We can't. Not just now. But,
yeah, I think you ought to. The wolf hairs were put on
the seat on purpose, obviously, since everything else was
so clean. Why? Who knows? I was looking for another
film, this time about Budler, but we didn't get any in.
So far."
"It could be just a coincidence," Childe said. "But in
case I don't report in to you by ten tonight, if it's
OK for me to call your house then you better call on the
baron."
"Hell, I probably won't be off duty by ten and no
telling where I'll be. I could have your call relayed, but
the lieutenant wouldn't like that, we're pretty tied up with
official calls and this wouldn't rate as that. No, call
Sergeant Mustanoja, he'll be on duty, and he'll take a
message for me. I'll contact him when I get time."
"Then let's make it eleven," Childe said. "Maybe I'll
get hung up out there."
"Not by the balls, I hope," Bruin said, and, laughing,
clicked the phone.
Childe felt his testicles withdraw a little. He did not
care much for Bruin's humor. Not while the film about
Colben was still bright in his mind.
He took three paces, and the phone rang again.
Magda Holyani said that she was sorry, but it was
necessary that the interview be put off until nine.
Childe said that it would make little difference to him.
Holyani said that that was nice and please make it nine sharp.
Childe called Bruin back to report the change in
plans. Bruin was gone, so he left a note with Sergeant
Mustanoja.
At 8:30 he drove out. From Beverly Boulevard, the
hills appeared
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