"Don't be so grim about it. Quite possibly Laniq represents far more than herself. If her father disappeared in the mid-20th century, perhaps he does know something about 1955. Maybe Laniq does, too. I don't want you killing her."
"She's a murderer, not me. I'll get her for you, Ruscar."
Leaving Ruscar's apartment, Tedor rummaged through his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. Agenting in the 20th century had left him with the smoking habit—which made him think of Dorlup and his big cigars. What did Dorlup know about Laniq Hadrien?
Why was Dorlup so interested in 1955, the year time-travel shunned like the plague. Not out of direct choice: after all its advance billing, 1955 would draw a horde of curiosity seekers if nothing else. But for some reason, no time-traveler could penetrate the year. It was the one profound, inexplicable mystery of time-traveling, and coming at the peak of the 20th century cold war, it left a lot of questions unanswered. It presented two mysteries then. First, why couldn't time machinery operate there? Second, what had happened in that crucial year? Tedor wondered what Laniq Hadrien knew about it.
When Tedor reached the far end of the pavilion, the crowds thinned to a trickle of people, most of whom were employed in the Eradrome. He entered a hallway and found a door marked with the words: Executive Director, by appointment only.
A pert receptionist looked up at him. "Yes, sir?"
"I'd like to see the Director."
"You have an appointment?"
"No."