Part 3 (1/2)

He had, in fact, done just that for Greco.

Greco said, ”Here. First installment.” He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was metallic--about the size of a penny slot-machine bar of chocolate, if you remember back that far. It gleamed and it glittered. And it was ruddy yellow in color.

”What's that?” I asked.

”Gold,” he said. ”Keep it, Virgie. It came out of sea water, like you said. Call it the down payment on your salary.”

I hefted it. I bit it. I said, ”By the way, speaking of salary....”

”Whatever you like,” he said wearily. ”A million dollars a year? Why not?”

”Why not?” I echoed, a little dazed.

And then I just sat there listening, while he talked. What else was there to do? I won't even say that I was listening, at least not with the very fullest of attention, because that thought of a million dollars a year kept coming between me and his words. But I got the picture. The possibilities were endless. And how well I knew it!

Gold from the sea, sure. But energy--free energy--it was there for the taking. From the molecules of the air, for instance. Refrigerators could be cooled, boilers could get up steam, homes could be heated, forges could be fired--and all without fuel. Planes could fly through the air without a drop of gasoline in their tanks. Anything.

A million dollars a year....

And it was only the beginning.

I came to. ”What?”

He was looking at me. He repeated patiently, ”The police are looking for me.”

I stared. ”_You?_”

”Did you hear about Grand Rapids?”

I thought. ”Oh--Wait. A fire. A big one. And that was you?”

”Not me. My demons. Maxwell demons--or Greco demons, they should be called. He talked about them; I use them. When they're not using me.

This time, they burned down half the city.”

”I remember now,” I said. The papers had been full of it.

”They got loose,” he said grimly. ”But that's not the worst. You'll have to earn your million a year, Virgie.”

”What do you mean, they got loose?”

He shrugged. ”Controls aren't perfect. Sometimes the demons escape. I can't help it.”

”How do you control them in the first place?”

He sighed. ”It isn't really what you would call controls,” he said.

”It's just the best I can do to keep them from spreading.”

”But--you said sometimes you separate metals, sometimes you get energy. How do the demons know which you want them to do, if you say you can't control them?”