"I'd be a Mountie then. The F.B.I. has deteriorated pretty badly. Spent itself on political security. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police lends us men and women during peacetime. Up until the War Games anyway--even though Britain would like to see us _constantly_ disrupted. But," he said heavily, "I am not a government agent of any kind. Just the Jonah I appear to be." * * * * * She shivered. "I can't take the responsibility. I can't either expose our escape route--or bring in another mouth, to bring starvation a moment closer." "Look, what can I call you?" he demanded in exasperation. "Julie. Julie Amprey." "Abe Danniels. Look, Julie--" "You were named after Lincoln?" she asked quietly. "A long time after. Look, Julie, I want to get into Chicago because of the old Milne Laboratories." He caught his breath for a long second. "They are still standing?" Julie nodded and looked ahead, through the insect-spotted windscreen. "Partial operation, when I left." Danniels gave a low whistle. "Lord, after all these years!" "We manage." "Fine! Julie, I'm sure that if I can get back in a laboratory I can find a way of ending this condemned Famine--inside Chicago and outside." "That sounds a little like delusions of grandeur to me," the girl said uncertainly. "It was my field for ten years. Before the last War Games. I had time to think while my platoon was hunting me down, after I had been tagged out. I thought faster than I ever thought before." Julie studied his face for a long moment. "What was your idea?" "The encephalographic inversion patterns of the Broadcasters," he said quickly, "can be applied to animals as well as human beings, on the right frequencies. Even microscopic animals. Bacteria. If you control the actions of bacteria, you control their reproduction. They could be made to multiply and assume different forms--the form of food, for example." Danniels took a deep breath and plunged into his idea as they drove on through the deepening night. He talked and explained to her, and, in doing so, he clarified points that he hadn't been sure of himself. He stopped at last because his throat was momentarily too dry to continue. "It's too big a responsibility for me," Julie said. Defeat stung him so badly he was afraid he had slumped physically. But it won't be permanent defeat, he told himself. I've come this far and I'll find some other way into Chicago. "I haven't the right to turn down something this big," Julie said. "I'll have to let you put it to the mayor and the city council." He relaxed a trifle, condemning himself for the weak luxury. He couldn't afford it yet. He ran his fingers through his flour-dusted green hair and the electricity of the movement dragged off much of the whiteness. His skin, like that of most people, had been given a slight negative charge by molecularization to repell dirt and germs. The powder was anxious to remove itself and dye or bleach refused to take at all.