He was curious for a moment. "Would you want one?" "Maybe, maybe not. I had a uniform once. The FBI go to college and take off their hats in the house, but they're still cops, and I don't like cops. Don't look at me like that; you wouldn't like cops either, if you made less than a couple of hundred a week. Nobody does. So I'm prejudiced against everybody, and just what difference does it make?" "Not a great deal. I was just curious." He was honest, anyway. "But you can see the possibilities, or the lack of them." "Look," and I got up to take as many steps as the cabin would allow. "This is where we came in. We could talk all day and get no further. All I want to know is this--what's going to happen to me, and when, and where?" He followed me with his steady eyes. "Well, at the immediate moment, I'm afraid that--" He hesitated. "I'm afraid that, quick like a bunny, you're going to have one solid headache if we don't quit using the same words over and over again. Here I am stuck in the middle of all the water in the world, and I'm tired, and I'm disgusted, and I'm starting to get mad. You're trying to smother my head in a pillow, I've got nothing but a first-class run-around from you and everyone I've seen, who has been one man named Bob Stein. I see nothing, I know less, I get cold shoulders and hot promises." I sailed right on, not giving him a chance to slide in one word. "Why, there must be ten thousand men and maybe some women right upstairs, and who knows how many within a few miles from here, and do I get to even pass the time of day with any of them? Do I? You bet your sweet life I don't!" "There aren't any women within miles of here, except nurses, and maybe a reporter, and I'm not sure about that." "Nurses and reporters are human, aren't they?" Had he found a chink in the armor? He frowned. "Is it women you want?" "Sure, I want women!" I flared at him. "I want a million of them! I want Esther Williams and Minnie Mouse and anyone else that looks good to me. But I don't want them on a silver platter with a gilt chain. I want them when I want them--my wife and the waitress at Art's, and the beer I used to drink would taste a lot better than the beer you said I'd get and never seen!" * * * * * The Smith stood up and I sat down. "Women and beer. Anything else?" "Sure," I snapped at him. "Women and beer and traffic piled up on Gratiot and the same double feature at all the movies in town--" I got a look at him. I felt silly. "All right, take out the needle. You win." He was a gentleman. He didn't laugh. "Win? Yes, I suppose I win." Before I could think of anything else to say, he was gone. [Illustration] [Illustration] PART II Smith knocked early the next morning when Stein was still clearing the breakfast coffee. For that time of day he was disgustingly happy. "The customary greeting, I believe, is good morning, is it not?" I gulped the rest of my cup. "Yeah. What's on your mind?"