"And yet you, the only attorney with the Stigma, gets tapped to be Public Defender for a Stigma case--Keys Crescas. Doesn't this strike you as more than coincidence can account for?"
"Now it does," I admitted. "Are you trying to tell me...."
"I'm telling you I've been suspicious of you for a long time, Pete,"
Passarelli said. "Perhaps you didn't know it, but I was one of the young attorneys on the Committee from the Bar Association that checked your heredity. No, you were born in San Francisco. No, your parents didn't live in the Logan Ring--their home was in Sausalito. But--the day that neutron bomb was accidentally fired and started the rash of Psi mutations in the ring outside the fatal area centering on Logan, your parents were in a jet airliner. I found that out--and kept my mouth shut. I never told the rest of the Committee that on the 19th of April in '75 that jet was over Iowa, en route to San Francisco, and possibly close enough to Logan for its passengers to have been affected by the neutron spray. Even then I knew the law was painting itself into a corner with its attitude toward Psi. I hoped. I hoped you _did_ have the Stigma, and I've waited my time to force you into the open."
"Stinking Normal!"
"Stop acting like a child. I said I _hoped_!"
"Hoped?"
"Yes. I meant what I said about wishing there were a responsible organization of Psis we could turn to. Are you serious about this organization, this Lodge?"
"I guess I am," I said, shaken.
"How many members does it have?"
"It's a secret organization," I protested.
"How many members?"
"Four, including me."
He shrugged. "You start somewhere. Mostly with a man you can trust, and I trust you, Maragon. You can keep this girl in line?"
"Our discipline is formidable," I reminded him, trying a grin. It was pretty sick.
"I'll bet," he grinned back. "Well, it had better be, for I'm going to take a chance on you. Sooner or later the law will have to admit the existence of Psi. I know as well as you Stigma cases that this gene is dominant--that there'll be more Psis every generation. We've got to find some common ground between the two societies--some way to get along. Give me your personal surety in this Mary Hall thing. As an attorney, you're an officer of the Court, and I guess I have the right to make her your responsibility. I certainly don't want it getting out that I'm playing footsie with an organization of Psis--this is an elective office, after all."
"After all," I agreed. "But I am glad to hear you sounding like a politician again."
"We'll have to keep our dealings off the record," Passarelli insisted.
"But if I thought I could call on you when we get one of these sticky Psi cases before the Courts...."
You'd recruit for the Lodge, I thought to myself. "You've got yourself a deal, Your Honor!" I said fervently.
"Call it a _modus vivendi_," he smiled. "Now my big problem is to find a way to eat my words, and let the 99th National Bank accept restitution of what Mary Hall stole from them."
"No sweat," I grinned, beginning to feel better. "It's already been done."
"Done? How could it be? I told the bank not to...."
"You told them," I conceded. "But they had no choice, Your Honor. Mary Hall went to the 99th National Bank this morning and asked for change of a five dollar bill."
"What!"
"And passed to the teller a hundred dollar bill. After all HC works both ways. They've got their money back. By noon they had half a dozen IBM technicians in there trying to figure why they were out of balance!"
THE END