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Mrs. Jamieson was furious. “And you believed him?”

“I don’t know. I just know what he said—and that he let me go without trying to shoot me.”

Mrs. Jamieson stopped on her way out of the room and laid a hand on his arm. “Your father would have been proud of you,” she said. “Soon you will learn the truth about the Agents.”

Beyond the closed door, out of sight of her son, Mrs. Jamieson gave rein to the excitement that ran through her. He had wanted the names! He didn’t know why—not yet—but he would. “He’ll do it yet!” she whispered to the flowered wallpaper. She didn’t care that no one heard her.

She didn’t know where the men were now, those who had killed her husband. They could be anywhere. Agents moved from post to post; in ten years they might be scattered all over Earth. In the killing of Konvs, some cylinders might even be taken by Agents—and used by them, for the power and freedom the cylinders gave must be coveted even by them. And they were in the best position to gain them. She was consumed by fear that one or more of the men on Earl’s list might have acquired a cylinder and were now Konvs themselves.