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  All the buildings were dilapidated and covered with signs and graffiti. Psychic parlors seemed to be quite popular. Numerous wanted posters advertised a reward for Kuato, and like the ones on the train, they had no pictures. Kuato, the fabled leader of the Mars Liberation Front. Quaid could see how the denizens of a place like this could long for liberation! If they put their hope into a nonexistent figure—well, maybe that was better than having no hope at all.

  Something almost floated to the surface of his mind, but it slipped away before he could catch it. Did he know something about a way to liberate Mars? Liberate it from what? The fact was, poverty was endemic; there was plenty of it on Earth too. There was no magic wand to wave to free the downtrodden masses of Mars.

  Or was there? He saw soldiers patrolling the streets in pairs. The hostility between them and the people was palpable. Could there be a way to get these poor folk out of the dark ghetto and into the sunside? To provide enough daylight land for all of them?

  He shook his head. He was no social worker. As long as domes were required to provide livable atmosphere, the common folk would be captive to those who built and controlled the domes. It was just the way Mars was.

  The cab gained on an attractive woman with a sexy walk, seen from behind. She held a small child by the hand.

  “Not bad, eh?” Benny inquired.

  Quaid had to concede that even this hellhole had its bright spots. As they passed the woman, he turned around to see her face.

  She was horribly deformed. Her child had the same congenital defect.

  Darkness and poverty weren’t the only afflictions here! Quaid turned to Benny. “Tell me something. Why are there so many . . . ?”

  “Freaks?” Benny supplied helpfully. “Cheap domes, man. And no air to screen out the rays.”

  Oh. No doubt the material of the domes, when properly placed, screened out harmful solar radiation while admitting the good part of the light. But a cheap dome would simply let it all through. Mars was farther from the sun than Earth was, so the light was less intense, but it still had harmful components. On Earth the ozone layer served to filter out a lot. There had been trouble when man’s carelessness had depleted that ozone, and nothing had been done about it until the skin-cancer rate quintupled. That finally got the attention of the politicians, and they started listening to the scientists who had been screaming warnings for decades, and put in motion programs to restore the ozone. It had been expensive, and had taken time, and the job was still being done, but the cancer rate was dropping. Here on Mars, it was evidently more than cancer; it was genetic damage. That was a tyranny that not even an enlightened social system could alleviate. It was inherent in the conditions of the planet.

  If only there could be one simple, universal answer! One change that would solve all the problems of the powerless. But that was dreaming, and not sensibly.

  The cab parked in front of The Last Resort. It was a seedy dive, even by the standards that obtained here.

  “You sure you wanna go here, man? You’re liable to catch a disease.”

  A sensible caution! Quaid did not find the place very appetizing. Yet where was he to look, if not where the confusing message had hinted?

  Maybe it made sense. If the wrong person got the envelope and saw the ad and came here, looking for the promised good time, he would get disgusted at this point and give it up. But the right person would not be dissuaded. So it was a good way to couch the message.

  “I know a much better house down the street,” Benny offered. “The girls are clean, the drinks aren’t watered, and—”

  “The boss gives kickbacks to the taxi drivers,” Quaid finished.

  Benny turned around and pleaded guilty with a broad smile. He had a mouthful of bad teeth, including two gold caps, one with a crescent moon design, the other with a star. “Hey, man, I got six kids to feed.”

  Quaid handed him a large tip. “Take ’em to the dentist.”

  Benny got excited as he counted the money. Quaid opened his door and got out. By the time Benny looked up, he was walking away.

  “Hey, man!” Benny called after him. “I’ll be waiting for you. Take your time. Benny’s the name.”

  Yes, he remembered. Quaid turned partway to wave the cabbie on, then entered The Last Resort. He hoped he wasn’t making a bad mistake.

  CHAPTER 17

  Melina

  Quaid stopped just inside the door and cased the joint. It was evidently a low-class whorehouse for miners. Girls walked in and out, picking up clients and bringing them upstairs. The flyer had suggested no less—and no more.

  He sat at the bar next to a couple of miners. The matter-of-fact bartender came over and waited for Quaid’s order. The man was big enough and ugly enough to warrant prompt attention; he probably moonlighted as a bouncer.

  “I’m looking for Melina,” Quaid said.

  Immediate suspicion clouded the man’s face. “She’s busy. But Mary’s free.”

  Mary, a sexy, well-built prostitute, appeared from nowhere and approached Quaid. “Not free,” she purred. “Available.”

  He looked at her. He noticed that she had three full breasts, prominently displayed in a special bikini top. For any man who got his main kicks in that department, here was extra measure! But he remembered Lori, illusory though his marriage to her had turned out to be, and knew he would have been spoiled for this even if sex had been his object. “Thanks. I’ll wait.”

  “Earth slime,” she said. It was the type of response he had expected.

  Then she farted and oozed over to another potential customer. That Quaid hadn’t expected. Maybe he hadn’t had enough experience with this type of place.

  He returned his attention to the bartender. This time he pressed a red banknote into the man’s hand.

  The bartender became less unfriendly. “Thing is, pal, Mel’s real picky. Kinda sticks to her regulars.”

  If the woman could afford to be picky in a place like this, she had to be very special! “Get her. She’ll like me.”

  With some trepidation, which Quaid noted with interest, the bartender called toward a table near the stairs. “Hey, Mel.” There was a pause, as of someone ignoring the call. “Melina.”

  Quaid looked in the direction the bartender was calling. A woman sat at a table with some miners, laughing uproariously. She perched on the knee of a sullen, unshaven fellow, her back to the bar. One of the miners, facing the bar, saw the bartender trying to get Melina’s attention. He signaled her, and she turned around.

  Quaid was stunned. She was the girl of his dreams!

  “She’s with Tony,” the bartender murmured. “Fair warning, mister: if you don’t like to fight . . .”

  “Some things are worth fighting for,” Quaid replied.

  “Then take it outside. My employer values his furniture.”

  Melina’s laughter had faded abruptly and her face registered shock. Her eyes darted to those of the miner across the table, then returned to Quaid’s. She made a decision. She rose from Tony’s knee and sashayed over to the bar. Quaid stood, waiting for whatever came. He knew already that he had made an invaluable contact—but what was its nature? This woman resembled his dream-vision only in appearance. There was little dignity in the cheap, seductive smile she gave him as she crossed the room.

  “Well, if it isn’t the human hard-on,” Melina said. She stepped into him and gave him a wet and sloppy kiss. Then she ground against him, feeling his muscles under the shirt. “Still bulging, I see.” She looked down. “Ooo. Whatcha been feeding it?”

  He realized that this was a public place, while anything between them was private. They couldn’t say anything here—if there was anything to say. So he played along. “Blondes.” Literally true; Lori was a blonde.

  “I think it’s still hungry.” She pulled him toward the stairs. As they passed the miners at the table, Tony stuck out his leg to block their way.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Tony demanded.

  �
�Relax, Tony,” Melina said. “There’ll be plenty left for you.”

  Tony wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed Melina’s arm and pulled her onto his lap. “I was here first!” He turned to Quaid. “Take a number, pal.”

  Quaid gripped Tony’s wrist and leaned in close. “This ain’t a bakery.”

  Tony looked as though he was ready to try the question.

  “George,” Melina said with exasperation. “Talk some sense into this ape.” The miner across the table sat back in his chair. He looked relaxed and confident.

  “Ya got some place to go?” George said reasonably. “Give the big guy a break.” Reluctantly, Tony let go of Melina’s arm. Then Quaid let go of him.

  “Knock yourself out,” Tony said gruffly.

  Melina rose and resumed her progress toward the stairs. Quaid followed, keeping a wary eye on Tony and the rest of the room. If any agents appeared— He lost his train of thought as he looked in surprise at the woman coming down the stairs.

  She was a midget. Her head came no higher than Quaid’s waist and she was attired only in a push-up corset. She eyed Quaid with interest.

  “Thumbelina, honey,” Melina said. “Take care of Tony, will ya? He’s got ants in his pants.”

  The midget nodded, but kept her eyes on Quaid’s pectorals. “You need any help, holler,” she said with a suggestive smile.

  In the upstairs hallway, Melina glanced back at him. Her seductive leer promised a good time ahead. She pulled open one of the doors that lined the hall and let him enter the room first.

  Melina carefully pulled the door closed, turned to Quaid—and slapped him. “You bastard!” she bit out. “You’re alive! I thought Cohaagen tortured you to death!”

  “Excuse me,” Quaid said, taken aback.

  Her tone of voice and bearing were completely different. The cheap whore had vanished with the closing of the door. This was suddenly an intelligent and motivated woman, who even in her rage carried herself with a certain dignity. Quaid didn’t know what to make of this abrupt reversal.

  “You couldn’t pick up a goddamn telephone?! You never wondered if I was all right? You weren’t just a tiny bit curious?”

  Quaid was at a loss for words. He liked this woman a thousand times as well as the one in the barroom, but he understood her no better than the other. He just looked at her innocently.

  Melina’s anger seemed to have been vented. The pressure was off now. She gazed at him, her expression changing again, her mood opaque.

  Suddenly she flung her arms around him. She kissed him passionately. Quaid remained baffled, too surprised to cooperate very well.

  “Oh, Hauser—thank God you’re alive!” she cried. So she did know him! How else would she have known that name? He made a half-hearted effort to pull away from her embrace. He hadn’t come for this, yet he did desire her.

  “Melina . . . Melina . . .” Was that really her name? It seemed to fit, yet his memory did not leap. His heart pounding, he summoned the strength to push her away. “Melina!”

  She paused, flushed and panting. “What?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you . . .”

  She waited, curious. Quaid continued with difficulty. “I don’t remember you.” That was an oversimplification, but it would have to serve. His dream image was just that: an image, without substance. He didn’t know this woman at all, any more than he knew Hauser. Had he really been out on the barren surface of Mars with her, exploring the Pyramid Mine?

  Melina’s breathing had returned to normal. She looked confused. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember you. I don’t remember us. I don’t even remember me.”

  Melina gave a short laugh, not really believing him. “What, you suddenly got amnesia?” she said. “How’d you get here?”

  Now they could get down to business. “Hauser left me a note.”

  Melina obviously didn’t take him quite seriously. “Hauser? You’re Hauser.”

  “Not any more.” She looked at him with puzzlement. “Now I’m Quaid. Douglas Quaid.”

  A grin spread over Melina’s face. “Hauser, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “I didn’t lose it. Cohaagen stole it. He found out that Hauser switched sides, so he turned him into somebody else.” Quaid shrugged. “Me.”

  Melina regarded him suspiciously. “This is too weird.”

  “Then he dumped me on Earth,” Quaid went on, “with a wife and a lousy job and—”

  “Did you say wife?” Her eyes flashed. “Are you fuckin’ married?”

  Quaid realized that he’d put his foot in it and scrambled to cover his tracks. “She wasn’t really my wife,” he said lamely.

  “Oh, how stupid of me.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “She was Hauser’s wife.”

  “Look,” Quaid said hastily. “Let’s forget I said wife.”

  “No!” Melina was furious. “Let’s forget everything! I’ve had it with you! I’ve had enough of your lies!”

  “Why would I lie to you?” He was exasperated. He was so close to filling in the empty spaces in his memory and it looked as though he’d never get any closer.

  Her voice became icy. “Because you’re still working for Cohaagen.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said shortly. It was a mistake. She practically spit in his face.

  “You never loved me, Hauser! You used me to get inside.”

  “Inside what?”

  Now she was even more suspicious. “I think you better go.” She got off the bed.

  That was the last thing he wanted to do, and not just because of her sex appeal. “Melina, Hauser needs me to do something.” He pointed to his head. “He said there’s enough in here to nail Cohaagen for good.”

  “It won’t work!” she snapped. “I’m not falling for it this time.”

  “Help me remember,” he said, standing.

  He stepped forward, but she stepped back. “I said get out!”

  “Melina!” he pleaded. “People are trying to kill me!”

  She bent to reach under her mattress. Quaid found himself staring down the barrel of a huge automatic pistol she swiftly brought up. “Really?”

  He studied her steely eyes. There was no hope there.

  Damn! This wasn’t just a loss of information, it was personal. He had found the woman of his dream, and she hated him.

  With a sense of deep loss, he backed out of the room. As he closed the door, Melina gave up the struggle to hold back her tears. She had been a fool to believe that Hauser had ever loved her.

  He had joined the rebel cause, proclaiming that he had seen the errors of his ways and wanted to help the poor people of Mars throw off the yoke of Cohaagen’s oppression. She had doubted his sincerity from the start. Cohaagen must have had a very low opinion of the rebels to think that he could plant a spy among them so easily. She had never let Hauser come anywhere near Kuato.

  She had spent a lot of time with Hauser, though, in her role as watchdog for the Resistance, and while her mind had retained its initial mistrust, her heart had eventually betrayed her. The man was intelligent, amusing, and magnetically attractive, and he had claimed to be in love with her. Before she could stop herself, she had found herself falling in love with him. She wept with anger at herself now. How could she have let it happen? A rebel, in love with an Agency spy? It was obscene.

  When he had disappeared, she had tried to dismiss him from her mind and heart. She had tried to lump him in with all the other turncoats and weasels in Cohaagen’s employ.

  She had failed. When she had seen him in the bar, the old feelings had crowded in again. She knew he was trying to prey on those feelings. He was trying to use her again with his ridiculous story of amnesia and memory implants. It was an insult to her intelligence and she resented it, bitterly, but what could she do? She knew, deep in her heart, that she loved him still.

  In the barroom, Benny had his hands all over Mary, who was fending him off expertly but without real con
viction. “I said I’m available, not free,” she reminded him.

  “I’m not asking for freebies, honey,” he protested. “It’s more like a commission.”

  Then he saw Quaid walking down the stairs, despondent. “We’ll pick this up later,” he promised.

  He rushed to intercept Quaid by the door. “Hey! That didn’t take long.”

  Quaid scowled at him and walked out.

  Quaid stepped into the dense crowd in the plaza, taking pains to avoid the soldiers, who seemed to be everywhere. Benny scrambled to keep up.

  “Ever make it with a mutant?” Benny asked.

  “No.”

  “I know these Siamese twins,” Benny said. “Man, you won’t know if you’re comin’ or goin’.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” Quaid said. The thought poured salt on the wound. How great it could have been, should have been, with Melina! Yet how could he convince her of his feelings when he couldn’t remember anything about their relationship?

  Benny was still dogging his heels. “How ’bout a psychic?” he said. “You wanna get read by a psychic?”

  Could she tell him how to make it up with Melina? Fat chance! “Where’s your cab?” Benny pointed across the street. Quaid sighed. “Bring me to my hotel.”

  Benny shrugged as they drove out of the dark slum and entered the bright, sunny tubeway. He had done his best.

  Somehow the brightness didn’t do a thing for Quaid’s spirits.

  CHAPTER 18

  Edgemar

  Quaid relaxed cautiously in his room at the Hilton Hotel. It was tourist-room night, which was not the same as Mars night. The half hour added length of the Martian day might not seem like much of a problem to the workers here, but tourists fresh from Earth could get all out of synch. So each room could be set to whatever rhythm and particular time the occupant wanted. Quaid hadn’t bothered to reset it from the time the prior occupant had left it. After all, he was a fresh tourist too. Thus it was night in here, while still late afternoon outside.