“Oh, yes, Grand Master Janowick,” he said en route. “May I ask why you refused the Commander’s queen?”
“He would have gained such an advantage in position as to mate in twelve moves.”
“I see . . . thanks.” He didn’t, at all, but he had to say something. “I wonder . . . would it be possible for me to find out how this game comes out?”
“Why, I suppose so.” Joan thought for a moment. “Certainly. If you’ll give me your card I’ll send you a tape of it after we finish.”[[3]]
The two Patrolmen boarded a copter. Joan looked subdued, almost forlorn. Cloud took her hand and squeezed it gently.
“Don’t take it so hard, Joan,” he thought. He found it remarkably easy to send to her now; in fact, telepathy was easier and simpler and more natural than talking. “We had it to do.”
“I suppose so; but it was a dirty, slimy, stinking, filthy trick, Storm. I’m ashamed . . . I feel soiled.”
“I know how you feel. I’m not so happy about the thing, either. But when you think of thionite, and what that stuff means. . . ?”
“That’s true, of course . . . and they stole the money in the first place. . . . Not that two wrongs, or even three or four, make a right . . . but it does help.”