Free Counter-Clock World by Philip K. Dick

could see the graveyard behind him. “I hope this is a valuable one.”
    Sebastian said, “Listen, honey—I hate to do this to you, but I don’t have the time to do it myself; we’re all tied up here with this job, and after him—” He hesitated. “Then we’ve got another waiting,” he said, not telling her who it would be.
    “What would you like?” She listened attentively.
    “Another research assignment at the Library.”
    “Oh.” She managed—nearly—not to show her dismay. “Yes, I’d be glad to.”
    “This time we want to know the story on Ray Roberts.”
    “I’ll do it,” Lotta said, “if I can.”
    “How do you mean, if you can?”
    Lotta said, “I get—an anxiety attack there.”
    “I know,” he said, and felt the fullness of his injury to her.
    “But I guess I can do it one more time.” She nodded, drably.
    “Remember, absolutely remember,” he said, “to stay away from that monster Mavis McGuire.” If you can, he thought.
    All at once Lotta brightened. “Joe Tinbane just now did a research of Ray Roberts. Maybe I can get it from him.” Her face showed utter, blissful relief. “I won’t have to go there, then.”
    “Agreed,” Sebastian said. Why not? It made sense, the Los Angeles police researching Roberts; after all, the man was about to show up in their jurisdictional area. Tinbane probably had everything there was; to be harsh about it, he had probably done—God forbid, but it was undoubtedly true—he had done a better job at the Library than Lotta could ever do.
    As he rang off he thought, I hope to hell she can get hold of Joe Tinbane. But he doubted it; the police were undoubtedly extremely busy right now; Tinbane was probably tied up for the rest of the day.
    He had a feeling that Lotta was in for bad luck; very soon and in large measure. And, thinking that, he flinched; he felt it for her.
    And felt even more guilty.
    Walking back to his crew of employees at the open grave he said, “Let’s try to get this one wrapped up fast. So we can get on to the important one.” He had definitely made up his mind; they would exhume the body of the Anarch, now, on this trip.
    He hoped he would not live to regret it. But he had a deep and abiding hunch that he would.
    And yet still—to him, at least—it seemed like the best thing to do. He could not shake that conviction.

7
    You and I, when we argue, are made in each other. For
when I understand what you understand, I become
your understanding, and am made in you, in a certain
ineffable way.
    —Erigena
    Out cruising his beat in his roving prowlcar, Officer Joseph Tinbane got the call over the police radio. “A Mrs. Lotta Hermes asks you to get in touch with her. Is this police business?”
    “Yes,” he said, lying; what else could he say. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll phone her. I have the number; thanks.”
    He waited until four o’clock, the end of his shift, and then, out of uniform, called her from a pay vidphone booth.
    “I’m so relieved to hear from you,” Lotta said. “You know what? We have to get all the info we can on that Ray Roberts who heads that Udi cult. You were just at the Library looking him up, and I thought I could get it from you and not have to go back to the Library.” She gazed at him entreatingly. “I’ve already gone there once today; I just can’t go back, it’s so awful, everybody looking at you, and you have to be quiet.”
    Tinbane said, “I’ll meet you for a tube of sogum. At Sam’s Sogum Palace; do you know where that is, and can you get there?”
    “And then you’ll tell me all about Ray Roberts? It’s getting late in the day; I’m afraid the Library will be closing. And then I won’t be able to—”
    “I can tell you all you need to know,” Tinbane said. And a great deal more besides, he thought.
    He hung up, then buzzed over to Sam’s Sogum Palace on Vine. As yet, Lotta had not arrived; he took a booth in the rear where he could watch the door. And presently she