“Plus expenses,” Eric mumbled.

“I don’t have time to dicker with you, Mr. Abbott. If it makes you feel any better, this shouldn’t take me very long. Either I can identify your woman for you pretty soon, or I’ll never be able to.”

“Pretty soon.” Eric fought to keep the sudden surge of excitement from coloring his voice. “How soon is pretty soon?”

“When I know something is when pretty soon is. What credit card you want to use?” Eric supplied him with an authorization number. “Hokay. I need your home phone. I assume you don’t want me contacting you at your place of business?”

“No, home would be best. No problems that way, right?” Still Polikartos didn’t smile.

“Good-bye, Mr. Abbott. I’ll be in touch.” The screen blanked.

Not exactly the loquacious type, Eric mused. He sat staring at the terminal as though at any instant it might demand his attention again. Eventually he rose. Nothing to do now but wait. He was startled at how tense he felt.

Might as well do some work after all. His feeble excuse having been readily accepted at the office, he could at least enjoy a working vacation.

Since someone else was doing his searching for him, he’d managed to moderate his obsession. He thought of calling and telling Charlie, finally decided against it. Charlie was his closest friend, but among his qualities that were not admirable was his inability to keep a secret. Better to let him think he was sick.

Work went surprisingly well, though without the accessories available to him at the office there were certain things he couldn’t do. It was very late that night when the phone rang. He’d already gone to bed, anticipating a call from Polikartos sometime tomorrow.

He answered. There was video, but it was poor. Illumination from the other end of the line was weak, but he could still make out the image of his investigator.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” he mumbled sleepily. “Or this late. What’ve you found out for me?”

Polikartos looked different somehow. Nervous, anxious, obviously very concerned about something. There was a furtive air about the man that made him look much smaller. When he replied, his tone was sharp. Not threatening, but as though the speaker suddenly feared his own words.

“Forget this matter, Mr. Abbott.”

Eric blinked away incipient sleep, tried to concentrate.

“What? What are you saying? Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Polikartos replied, so tightly that his tone gave the lie to his claim. “Just forget all about this. You seem like a nice young fellow. You listen to me, yes, and forget about this woman, forget about the car you saw, forget the whole business, hokay? You haven’t seen her since, only the one time?"

“That’s right. That’s why I hired you.”

“Hokay, you hired me. I give you advice instead of information. Sometimes the two are interchangeable, yes? You never saw that Cadota, hokay? You never saw that license number and you never saw any young lady, and you stay a nice, happy young man.”

“Now wait a minute. I paid for …”

“Your fee will be refunded in full. I credit your account. I don’t want your money, Mr. Abbott, and I don’t want your business.”

Whereupon voice and video snapped off.

Bewildered, Eric sat numb on the edge of the bed, staring at the silent phone in his palm. Cool air brushed his nude form.

His first thought was to contact another investigator, someone more stable. Only, Polikartos had struck him as stable. He’d regarded Eric’s request as routine business. Something had happened to change his mind, something unusual. The corollary seemed inescapable. He’d found something out.

He dialed the investigator’s number. This time he got an answering machine. “Polikartos is not in,” it declaimed. “If you will leave your name and number, he will contact you as soon as possible.”

He tried again, several times, each with the same result. Then he moved to the terminal and called up the general Phoenix directory. There was no listing for a Polikartos. It might be a first name, then. It might even be a pseudonym. He had no way of knowing, no way of finding out.

He’d neglected to do his own homework.

There was nothing for it but to go to work the next day. Polikartos was a dead end, and now a maddeningly tantalizing one. All morning he considered what to do next. It didn’t take much thought. He knew Polikartos’s phone number. He also knew his office address.

Charlie would miss him at lunch, but that couldn’t be helped.

IV

Polikartos’s office was on the Fifteenth floor of an ancient, nondescript mid-twentieth-century structure over on Thirty-third. Eric told the robocab to wait for his return. The machine signaled its willingness, its meter ticking over. Eric hurried.

The single elevator took him up and he located the office without trouble. He was greatly surprised after announcing himself when the door declared, “Polikartos is in,” and swung wide to admit him.

In the outer room were a couple of chairs and a couch, some six-month-old magazines, and several dusty artificial plants. Fifteen minutes, twenty, half an hour slid past, taking his lunch hour with it. Eric stood and moved to the inner door. One-way glass, most likely. He tried the handle. Locked.

“Polikartos, you know I’m here, and I know you’re here. Your door admitted me.”

Could there be a back exit? He doubted it.

“I just want to talk with you for a minute, Polikartos. You owe me that much. I don’t know if your profession has a code of ethics, but I think you owe me an explanation in addition to the refund.” The door remained secured.

“Fine. I’ll just go to the police, then the Better Business Bureau. I’m sure you people are regulated.” He turned from the door and started out. He had no intention of making a fool of himself in front of the police, but his words had the intended effect.

Polikartos’s face appeared as the door slid aside. Eric was surprised to see that he was barely over five feet tall, but not surprised at his powerful build.

“Hokay, Abbott. Just keep it short and lower your voice. There are people on this floor I have a reputation with. If you’re going to make a pest of yourself …”

“I can be very persistent.”

“… then you better come in.”

Polikartos’s inner office was neat and cleaner than expected. There was a steel file cabinet in one corner, two separate computer terminals, the plastic desk he’d seen over the phone, and more of the ubiquitous artificial foliage. A back window looked out on a two-story hardware store and lumber yard. The steady complaint of band saws grinding their way through the corpses of trees rose above the traffic noise.

Polikartos flopped into his chair and spread his hands imploringly. “What is it you want from me, Abbott?” The honorific “Mister” had gone by the board.

“The information I paid you to find,” said Eric firmly. “Or are you going to sit there and tell me to my face that you couldn’t find anything? That with your twenty years’ experience you couldn’t run down a lousy car owner, given the make and license number?”

Polikartos’s eyes stayed at Eric’s belt level, then lifted. “Didn’t you hear what I told you last night, Abbott? I told you to drop this business.”

“You make it sound like a bad drama, Polikartos. I’m not a fan of bad drama.”

“This is no drama good or bad, Abbott. This is real life.” He sighed. “So many closet romantics!”

“Don’t patronize me, Polikartos.”

“Hokay, wise boy. Then I lecture you.” He stood and leaned over the table. He was trying to frighten, but his nervousness killed the effect.

“Forget this, I’m telling you. You want nothing to do with that woman.”