"It took a little more than TK," I reminded her. "TK is just a power, one more ability in life. It doesn't make you God. Once in a while it gives you a little more vigorish than the other guy has, that's all. And sometimes it's not enough."
"But you had enough vigorish to catch them," she pointed out.
"In a way," I said. "I told them TK wasn't enough—that it would take precognition. And I don't have PC. I had to bring a PC with me. You, Pheola. That's why I'm alive. Smythe would have killed me with that dart gun of his. You were my vigorish!"
We rode the 'copter together to the airport. Old Grand Master Maragon would sneer out of the other side of his face when I brought Pheola to him. He couldn't keep her from PC training. She had it.
"Tell me," I asked her. "Can you always tell what I'm going to do next?"
"I reckon," she said. "If I think hard about it."
"But you can't control what I'm going to do next, can you?" I grinned.
"I wonder," she said. "Never tried, yet."
"Oh, no!" I groaned.
She showed me her buck teeth in a smile. "I figger first you'll have them straighten my teeth," she said. "You'd like a pretty wife."