"Udi," Lotta said.

"That Negro cult? That's overrun the Free Negro Municipality? Run by that demagogue Raymond Roberts? The _Uditi?_ This Thomas Peak buried here?"

She examined the dates, nodded. "But it wasn't a racket, in those days, my teacher told us. There really is a Udi experience, I believe. Anyhow, so we were taught at San Jose State. Everyone merges; there's no you and no--"

"I know what Udi is," he said testily. "God, now that I know who he is I'm not so sure I want to help bring this one back."

"But when the Anarch Peak comes back," Lotta said, "he'll resume his position as head of Udi and it'll stop being a racket."

Behind them Bob Lindy said, "You could probably make a fortune by _not_ bringing him back to an unwilling, unwaiting world." He explained, "I'm now done with your job-call, here; Sign is inserting one of those hand-me-down electric kidneys and getting her on a stretcher and into his car." He lit a cigaret butt, stood smoking and shivering and meditating. "You think this fella Peak's about to return, Seb?"

"Yes," he said. "You know my intimations." Our firm operates at a profit because of them, he meditated; they're what keep us ahead of the big outfits, make it possible in fact to get any business at all... anything, anyhow, above and beyond what the city police throw to us.

Lindy said somberly, "Wait'll R.C. Buckley hears about this. He'll really go into action on this one; in fact, I suggest you call him right now. The sooner he knows, the sooner he can formulate one of those wild rizzle-drizzle promotion campaigns he concocts." He laughed sharply. "Our man in the graveyard," he said.

"I'm going to plant a bug here on Peak's grave," Sebastian said after a thoughtful pause. "One that'll both pick up cardiac activity and will transmit a notifying coded signal to us."

"You're that sure," Lindy said, nervously. "I mean, it's illegal; if the L.A.