Time Thieves

talk?”
        
        A glow, slight but warm, anxious to burgeon…
        
        “I don't understand. Are you here, in the living room?”
        
        “In your mind. I'm not physically with you, love, but mentally and emotionally I am.”
        
        “Mind reading? Are you telling me you're reading my mind?”
        
        “And projecting my thoughts into yours.”
        
        “I'm dreaming.”
        
        “You aren't. Try to accept it, and try to be calm.”
        
        “But I don't understand I”
        
        “Must you?”
        
        “Yes!” Silence. Then: “Well, not right away, not if you say you can't explain at the moment.”
        
        “I can't explain. But I will.”
        
        “Okay.”
        
        Then she realizes they are waiting for Pete and that, no matter what they might say, they are here to get Pete, to hurt Pete-or to take him away and keep him again and let him come home without knowing where he has been…
        
        Pete broke his telepathic probe of Della's mind. Now he knew what had happened to her this morning. He realized he was cursing them, angrily, out loud. Other diners in the pizza shop were looking at him speculatively. He took a bite of the pizza before him and chewed on it, not because he was hungry, but because it was something to do, something to keep him from cursing.
        
        He knew that he was going to have to go back to the house and get Della. He almost enjoyed the prospect of doing a little damage to those plasticfaced sonsofbitches.
        
        “Right now, there's very much to do. I'm going to come into the house, in a little while, to get you.”
        
        “These men-”
        
        “They aren't men. And I can handle them.”
        
        “But-”
        
        “I can handle them.”
        
        “But don't take chances.”
        
        “I won't have to.”
        
        “Pete?”
        
        “Love?”
        
        “How long have you been able to-to read minds, to do this thing?”
        
        “Tonight.”
        
        “Have you read mine?”
        
        Doubt, anxiety, but a certain thrill as well…
        
        “Yes.”
        
        “Much?”
        
        “Some.”
        
        “You're avoiding answering me.”
        
        “Looks that way.”
        
        “Just tell me-do you love me?”
        
        “Yes. Very much.”
        
        “Come and get me.”
        
        “In time. I just want you to remember to be calm, not to get involved, not to move until I tell you to. Even when you feel them losing control of you, don't leave the chair. Stay where you are and wait. No matter what. I don't want you getting hurt.”
        
        “Okay, Pete.”
        
        “I'll be in within the hour.”
        
        “You're breaking contact?”
        
        “Yes. I can't afford to exhaust myself.”
        
        She projected images of comfort, love and sex. He did not wish to withdraw, but he did.
        

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    XVI
        
        
        He had taken up a position behind a long, shaggy hedgerow across the alleyway from the back of his house. The ground was warm and dry though uncomfortably stony. He could see the kitchen where only a night light burned. Now and then, he fancied that he could see movement beside the kitchen curtains, as if someone stood there, watching the rear lawn. But he could not be sure of that, and he did not want to make his move until he was certain of a lot of things about the trap they had laid.
        
        Along the side of the house, the dining room window was dark, while the living room window emitted a strong, yellow light. Della was still sitting there, in her chair, They could not hope to fool him again, so easily. They were counting on his love for her to draw him back in some abortive attempt to free her.
        
        They would be surprised, an hour or so from now, to find themselves holding the dirty end of the stick.
        
        Ten minutes later, the rear door opened, and one of the mechanicals looked out, staring intently at the corner of the garage where a bed of tall marigolds grew. He came over to it and satisfied himself of something or other, then returned to the kitchen and closed the door.
        
        It was exactly the sort of thing