me, 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