He had already been casting about for a place. "The Historical Museum," he said quickly. "Main floor. As soon as you can make it after four. Do you know where that is?"
She nodded. There was wonder in her face, crowding out the tension of worry. "What's your name?" she asked.
Automatically he started to give his official identity. "TRH—" He broke off. "Hendley," he said abruptly. "Call me Hendley."
His hand slid down her arm to examine the identity disc on her bracelet. Her number was ABC-331. He smiled, for the combination of letters was rare. "What does the 'A' stand for?"
Startled, she stared at him for a moment before answering. "Ann," she murmured. "But nobody ever—"
"I know. That's why I want to call you Ann."
Their eyes held for several seconds. He could feel the pulse beating in her wrist. Her red lips were parted in an expression of surprise. Suddenly she pulled her hand free.
"I have to go," she said. Whirling, she ran toward the doors of the Research Center.
"Four o'clock," he called after her.
But she didn't look back.