idn't. It was a phenomenally fast recovery, and perhaps Putsyn wasn't
aware of it.

"The question is, what to do with you?" Putsyn seemed to be thinking
aloud. "The police are intolerant of killing. Maybe if I disposed of
every atom...." He shook his head and sighed. "But that's been tried,
and it didn't make any difference. So you'll have to remain
alive--though I don't think you'll approve of my treatment."

Luis didn't approve--it would be the same kind of treatment that Luise
had been exposed to, but more drastic in his case, because he was
aware of what was going on.

Putsyn came close to drag him away. It was time to use the energy he'd
been saving up, and he did.

Startled, Putsyn fired the freezer, but he was aiming at a twisting
target and the invisible energy only grazed Luis's leg. The leg went
limp and had no feeling, but his two hands were still good and that
was all he needed.

He tore the freezer away and put his other hand on Putsyn's throat. He
could feel the artificial larynx inside. He squeezed.

He lay there until Putsyn went limp.

* * * * *

When there was no longer any movement, he sat up and pried open the
man's jaws, thrusting his fingers into the mouth and jerking out the
artificial larynx. The next time he would hear Putsyn's real voice,
and maybe that would trigger his memory.

He crawled to the door and pulled himself up, leaning against the
wall. By the time Putsyn moved, he had regained partial use of his
leg.

"Now we'll see," he said. He didn't try to put anger in his voice; it
was there. "I don't have to tell you that I can beat answers out of
you."

"You don't know?" Putsyn laughed and there was relief in the sound.
"You can kick me around, but you won't get your answers!"

The man had physical courage, or thought he did, and sometimes that
amounted to the same thing. Luis shifted uneasily. It was the first
time he'd heard Putsyn's actual voice; it was disturbing, but it
didn't arouse concrete memories.

He stepped on the outstretched hand. "Think so?" he said. He could
hear the fingers crackle.

Putsyn paled, but didn't cry out. "Don't think you can kill me and get
away with it," he said.

He didn't sound too certain.

Slightly sick, Luis stepped off the hand. He couldn't kill the
man--and not just because of the police. He just couldn't do it. He
felt for the other gun in his pocket.

"This isn't a freezer," he said. "It's been c