copter dropped by searchlight to a flagged terrace in front of adark cottage just off the beach. "Thanks, Bob," said Nina. "Tell theboys to stand by with their guard beams up." Then, to Lindsay, "Come on,boss, let's get out of this heap."
She walked swiftly toward the cottage, pressed something. Soft lightscame on, revealing a charming simulated wood dwelling in the fineantique Frank Lloyd Wright tradition. She ushered him into adelightfully gay bathroom looking out on the water, said, "Wait herewhile I get this armor off."
Lindsay felt a slight qualm as he considered what being a top model atseventeen must mean. And then he thought, Why not? Certainly he had noclaim on Nina's morals. He doubted if anyone had a claim of any kind onher.
She emerged, looking unexpectedly like a young girl in simple clout andcup-bra, which exposed most of her gorgeously tanned body. Her hair,innocent of jewels like the rest of her, was clubbed back simply withsome sort of clip. She lit a cigarette and said, "Now--how the hell areyou fouling up the computers?"
"I'm not," he told her promptly. "At least not in the case of the tennismatch. I just happened to know something about Pat O'Ryan the people whofed facts to the computer didn't."
"That goon Pat!" she said. "He's so damned dumb."
"You know him well?" he asked with a trace of jealousy.
"I know him." She dismissed it with a flick of her cigarette. "It's agood thing you knew _judo_ too, boss. But what did you do to him thatfouled up the match?"
"While he was out cold I gave him a shot of whiskey to bring him'round," Lindsay told her. "He didn't know about it and I didn't tellhim when he informed me about his grain-alcohol allergy. So for once thecomputer didn't get full facts. And I had them."
For the first time Lindsay basked in a smile of approval from Nina. Shesaid, "And then you had to mess me up at Doc Craven's so I couldn't sitin on the match."
"I'm sorry about that," he said sincerely. "You might brief me so Idon't do it again."
"Well...." She hesitated. "I don't want to set myself off. It's notuncommon among us--models. You see, we're proud of our careers, not likethe two-credit whores who wear glasses and harnesses. And it hurts uswhen someone refers to our work as business. You see, there's nothingreally commercial about it. So when you--"
"But how the devil was I to know you were a model?" he asked her.
"I know," she said illogically. "But it still made me mad." Then,frowning, "But if the computer was wrong because of incomplete knowledgeat the Colosseum, what was wrong at Doc Craven's?"
Lindsay said, "I'm damned if I know."
"We've _got_ to know, with the president ready to put Giac to work."
"I meant to tell you about that," said Lindsay.
"Don't worry," Nina informed him. "Your table at the Pelican was wired."
"Why are you against computers?" Lindsay asked her.
She dropped her smoke in a disposal-tray, said, "Never mind why--let'sjust accept the fact that I am. And not for Fernando Anderson's reasoneither. He just wants power."
"And what do you want?"
"Me?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why, I just want to have _fun_!"She extended her arms and flapped her hands like birds. Then, againreverting to seriousness, "I wish you'd tell me everything that went onat Doc Craven's yesterday. Dammit, _his_ office wasn't wired."
Lindsay went through it, as nearly word for word as he could, then didit again when no answer was quickly forthcoming. Nina listened, herperfect forehead marred by a frown. Finally she said, "Let's take adip. It's almost dawn."
She removed what clothing she wore and Lindsay did likewise. They feltthe refreshing caress of the cool Gulf water on their skins--but thatwas all the caressing there was. Nina, unlike Maria, was all businessdespite the near-blatant perfection of her charms. Back in the bathroomshe said, "The only thing I can think of is that stigmata business. Whyshould you imagine a mark on your mother's forehead?"
"Because she had one," he told her bluntly. "It was not unattractive--myfather used to call it her beauty mark."
Nina ran long slim fingers through her water-dark hair and saidincredulously, "You mean blemishes are not removed automatically atbirth on Mars?"
"Why, no," said Lindsay, surprised. "It's entirely up to theindividual--or the parents."
"And Doc Craven asked no questions that would lead to the truth?" thegirl asked, blinking. When Lindsay shook his head she suddenly grabbedhim and kissed him and did a little dance of sheer joy. "It's simply toogood to be true! Two computers fouled in one day through missinginformation!"
"You're right, of course," he admitted. "But I'm damned if I see how itdoes us any good."
"You idiot!" she shook him. "It clears the whole situation. It meansthat the computers cannot give accurate answers according to thesymbolic logic tables unless they get full information. And you haveproved two breakdowns in the inescapable human element--the informationfeeding--just like _that_!" She snapped her fingers. "It means we've gotthe whole computer-cult on the hip. I could kiss you again, you biggoon." She did so.
"Cut it out," he said. "I'm not made of brass."
She said, "Night soil," amiably. What he might have done he was never toknow, for a buzzer sounded and Nina moved quickly to a wall-talkie. Shesaid, "All right, Bob, you say he's clean?" Then, a moment later,"Better let him in and say his piece." And, to Lindsay, "We've gotcompany. Dmitri Alenkov--met him?"
Lindsay frowned. "You mean the Soviet _charge d'affaires_? I met him atthe reception last week. Dreadful little lizard."
"Dmitri might surprise you," she said enigmatically.
Lindsay almost said _night soil_ himself in exasperation. Instead andpeevishly he asked, "Is there anybody you don't know--intimately?"
She laughed. "Of course," she said, "I don't know many women."
* * * * *
The Soviet diplomat entered the bathroom. He was a languid mincingcreature whose decadence glowed around him like phosphorescence around apiece of rotted swampwood. He said, "I hope I am not intruding."
"That depends," Nina told him. "_I'd_ like to know how you traced ushere so quickly."
"My sweet," said the Russian in intensely Oxford Esperanto, "you andyour friend's"--with another bow toward Lindsay--"little affair at thePelican was witnessed this evening. When the two of you departedtogether, heading eastward, and Ambassador Lindsay could not be reachedin his apartment...." He paused delicately.
So this, thought Lindsay, was a descendant of one of the Red Commissarswhose fanatic and chill austerity had terrorized the free world of acentury ago. Lindsay knew something of modern Soviet history, of course.There had been no real counter-revolution. Instead the gradual emergenceof the scientists over their Marxist political rulers had been a slowprocess of erosion.
Once computer rule was inaugurated in the North American Republic andswept the Western World, the scientists had simply taken over realpower. The once-powerful Politburo and its sub-committees becameobsolete.
Alenkov was stressing this very point. He said, "So you see, we, thebest blood of Russia, are forced by these machines to live the lives ofoutcast children. Naturally we resent it. And when, after so many longyears of waiting, we learn that one man has succeeded in foiling thecomputers where no man has succeeded before, we want to know his secret.We must have it."
Nina spoke first. She said, "Dmitri, the secret, as you call it, hasbeen right there all along for any of us to see. It just happens thatAmbassador Lindsay fell into it head first."
"Thanks for the 'Ambassador' anyway," Lindsay said drily.
Nina quelled him with a frown. "The computer weakness," she said, "liesin the human element. Now figure that out for yourself."
Alenkov's brows all but met in the middle of his forehead and his mouthbecame a little round O under the twin commas of his mustache. He said,"I see."
He left shortly afterward on a note of sadness, rousing himself only tosay to Lindsay, "Ambassador, you are a very lucky man." His eyescaressed Nina's nea
r-nude figure.
"That," Lindsay told him, "is what you think."
When he had departed Lindsay suddenly realized he was exhausted. He sankback in a contour chair and let fatigue sweep over him. But Nina pacedthe bathroom floor like a caged cat. Finally she went to thewall-talkie,