It was the day he told T. G.: "I'm getting out of here."
The gray, paralyzed-looking face almost smiled. "See a man first?"
"Friend of yours?"
"Somebody who heard about you. Maybe he can do something for you. He feels the way you do about the Syndic."
Wyman clenched his teeth. The pain still came at the thought. Syndic, Hogan, Inge and betrayal. God, to be able to hit back at them!
The red ride ebbed. Suddenly he stared at T. G. and demanded: "Why? Why should you put me in touch? What is this?"
T. G. shrugged. "I don't worry about the Syndic. I worry about people. I've been worrying about you. You're a little insane, Max, like all of us here."
"God damn you!"
"He has...."
Max Wyman paused a long time and said: "Go on, will you?" He realized that anybody else would have apologized. But he couldn't and he knew that T. G. knew he couldn't.