"That's all I can do for you," he said. He handed me a bottle of pills. "Here are some tablets to take in an emergency. Now get out." "Call me a cab, Doc." * * * * * I listened while he called, then lit a cigarette and watched through the curtains. The doc stood by, worrying his upper plate and eyeing me. So far I hadn't had to tinker with his mind, but it would be a good idea to check. I felt my way delicately. --_oh God, why did I ... long time ago ... Mary ever knew ... go to Arizona, start again, too old...._ I saw the nest of fears that gnawed at him, the frustration and the faint flicker of hope but not quite dead. I touched his mind, wiped away scars.... "Here's your car," he said. He opened the door, looking at me. I started past him. "Are you sure you're all right?" he said. "Sure, Pop. And don't worry. Everything's going to be okay." The driver put my boxes on the back seat. I got in beside him and told him to take me to a men's clothing store. He waited while I changed my hand-me-downs for an off-the-hook suit, new shirt and underwear and a replacement beret. It was the only kind of hat that didn't hurt. My issue shoes were still good, but I traded them in on a new pair, added a light raincoat, and threw in a sturdy suitcase for good measure. The clerk said something about money and I dropped an idea into his mind, paused long enough to add a memory of a fabulous night with a redhead. He hardly noticed me leaving. I tried not to feel like a shop-lifter. After all, it's not every day a man gets a chance to swap drygoods for dreams. In the cab, I transferred my belongings to the new suitcase, then told the driver to pull up at an anonymous-looking hotel. A four-star admiral with frayed cuffs helped me inside with my luggage. The hackie headed for the bay to get rid of the box under the impression I was a heavy tipper. I had a meal in my room, a hot bath, and treated myself to a three hour nap. I woke up feeling as though those student embalmers might graduate after all. I thumbed through the phone book and dialed a number. "I want a Cadillac or Lincoln," I said. "A new one--not the one you rent for funerals--and a driver who won't mind missing a couple nights' sleep. And put a bed pillow and a blanket in the car." I went down to the coffee room then for a light meal. I had just finished a cigarette when the car arrived--a dark blue heavyweight with a high polish and a low silhouette. "We're going to Denver," I told the driver. "We'll make one stop tomorrow--I have a little shopping to do. I figure about twenty hours. Take a break every hundred miles, and hold it under seventy." He nodded. I got in the back and sank down in the smell of expensive upholstery. "I'll cross town and pick up U.S. 84 at--"