AFTER REMO HAD LEFT, LITHIA Forrester sat down at her desk for long minutes, thinking.
Then she dialed three short digits on the telephone, calling one of the rooms at the Human Awareness Laboratories.
“Yes,” answered a bored voice.
“He’s just left,” she said. “There’s no doubt. He’s been sent here to stop our plan.”
“Then kill him,” came the voice.
“Yes, of course. But I don’t want to do it here. Too much attention brought to bear might spoil our plan.”
“Well, do it anywhere you want. Just do it.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lithia Forrester said. Then she added softly, “Could I come down later? It’s been so long.”
“Not tonight. I’m tired.”
“Please?” she said. “Please?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh. “Well, all right if you really want to.”
Lithia Forrester’s golden face sparkled into a warm glow. “Oh, thank you,” she said.
“Yeah, sure. As long as you’re coming, bring some potato chips and dip. Onion dip. And a big bag of chips.”
“I will. I will,” she said happily and long after the abrupt click had died in her ear, she held the phone warmly to her breast, like a schoolgirl with a love letter.