"You deliver the Seattle lot, that's number, ah, eighteen on the list, the last."
"I understand."
"When your trucks are loaded, you may leave. I'll pay you for lay-over time."
"I've got a bill here," the trucker said.
The two huddled over it, and after the trucker had gone Parr leaned back staring at the ceiling, his nerves quivering.
He knew what he was guilty of, at last. Knowledge came suddenly, from nowhere like an electric shock, and it stunned him. Logically he demanded proof; but there was no proof. It came, it was; it was beyond logic. Nothing in his memory ... and for a moment he thought he had lost the memory under Lauri's first vicious assault ripping into his mind; but, and again without reason, he knew it was not in the memory she had destroyed. She was connected with it, but not like that.... He was guilty of treason. He could not remember the act, but he was guilty. What? When? Why? He did not know; he was guilty without knowing what the treason was: only the overpowering certainty of his guilt. Wearily he let his head droop. Treason....
"Mister Parr?"
"Eh? Eh?"
"There's somethin' heavy in this one. It don't feel like paper. I think it's metal of some sort. Now, look, Mister Parr, I don't want to get tied up with somethin' that's not square. You said all these packages had paper in them. And I'd kinda like to see what else there is in this one, Mister Parr, if you don't mind."