PSI-SINGING (or almost!) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emerging from the cara-canes, she hurried over the short stretch
of open grass and in through the doorway to the first generator
room. A sickly stench of putrefying flesh assailed her nostrils.
She pulled a face. How could they leave it like that? But at
least she knew that the evidence hadn't been moved.
The generators were thrumming quietly all around. She passed
in under the blue wafer-lights and entered the second generator
room. The blood on the floor was now jet black, the dismembered
body parts were starting to glisten with tinges of green. But
Vail had eyes only for the knife. It was still there on top of
the pile of Stobber's clothing.
She deposited her bag near the pile and pulled on a pair of ultrathin
plastic gloves. Then she picked up the knife. Both blade and handle
were thickly clotted with dried blood. She selected an item of
clothing, Stobber's overshirt, to use as a cleaning ra g. She
sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to clean the knife.
The process took several minutes. She spat and wiped, spat and
wiped. When the blood was removed, she polished the blade and
the knit-plastic handle. By the time she had finished, the whole
knife was shiny and spotless.
Then she stripped off her gloves, delved into her bag, and brought
forth her psi-singer. It was an arced instrument like a bow, strung
with metal wires. It widened out at one end into a solid wedge-shaped
handgrip. At the base of the handgrip was the repl acement socket
that Vail had installed yesterday morning.
Once more she delved into her bag. This time she brought forth
a power-cell and a set of electrical leads. She connected the
leads between the power-cell and the socket of the psi-singer.
Finally she settled herself into a comfortable position and picked
up the knife again.
She held the knife vertical with its point resting on the floor.
Then she began to draw the bow of the psi-singer at an oblique
angle across the blade. Smoothly, constantly, she stroked it back
and forth against the cutting edge.
Back and forth, back and forth. She was totally absorbed. The
blade gave off a metallic ringing sound. She bent her head and
listened for harmonics.
But there was nothing there. An absolute negative. The test proved
that at least.
She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the footsteps in the
first generator room. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
