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research the matter for us; we knew we’d have to break into the Library and do it ourselves.
    That fact is there in the Library somewhere, he said to himself. That’s probably the
only
place it is, the only source from which we can get that information.
    And there was not much time left, according to Ray Roberts’ arcane calculations. The Anarch Peak would be returning to life any day, now.
    It was a highly dangerous situation.

4
    If, therefore, God existed, there would be no evil discoverable; but there is evil in the world. Therefore God
does not exist.
    —St. Thomas Aquinas
    As soon as the roby Carl Gantrix Junior had cleared out of his office, Doug Appleford pressed the intercom button which connected him with his superior, Chief Librarian Mavis McGuire.
    “You know what just now happened?” he said. “Someone representing that Udi cult got a robot in here and began planting hostile hardware all over my office. It has left.” He added, “Possibly I should have called the city police. Technically, I still could; the scanner I keep in here recorded the incident, so we have the evidence if we want to seek recourse.”
    Mavis had her usual accosting, bleak expression, the dead-calm quality which generally preceded a tirade. Especially at this time of day—early in the morning—she was most irritable.
    Over the years Appleford had learned to live with her, so to speak. As an administrator she was superb. She had energy; she was accurate; she always—and rightly so—assumed final authority; he had never known Mavis to pass the poscred back, when it was handed to her . . . as in this case. Never in his most distorted dreams had he envisioned trying to supplant her; he knew, rationally and coldly, that he did not possess her ability; he had enough talent to act as her subordinate—and do the job well—but that was all. He respected her and he was afraid of her, a lethal combination in regard to any aspirations he might have had to seek a rung higher in the Library’s hierarchy. Mavis McGuire was the boss and he liked it that way; he liked it now, being able to drop this into her lap.
    Mavis said, her mouth twisting, “Udi. That abomination. Yes; I realize Ray Roberts is making a pile out here; I expected they’d come sniffing around here. I assume you expelled the hostile hardware.”
    “Absolutely,” Appleford assured her. It still lay on the carpeted floor of his office, where the file had ejected it.
    “What specifically,” Mavis said in her low, near-whisper voice, “were they after?”
    “The burial site of the Anarch Peak.”
    “Do we have that information?”
    Appleford said, “I didn’t bother to look it up.”
    “I’ll check with the Council of Erads,” Mavis said, “and find out if they want that fact released; I’ll check on their policy regarding this. Right now I have other business; you’ll excuse me.” She then rang off.
    Miss Tomsen buzzed him. “A Mrs. Hermes and an Officer Tinbane to see you, sir. They have no appointment.”
    “Tinbane,” he echoed. He had always liked the young police officer. A man as honestly, reputably intent on his tasks as was Appleford: they had something in common. Mrs. Hermes; he did not know her. Possibly it involved someone refusing to turn over a book to the Library; Tinbane had tracked such cupidity down in past times. “Send them in,” he decided. Possibly Mrs. Hermes was a Hoarder—someone who refused to give up a book whose time had come.
    Officer Tinbane, in uniform, entered, and with him appeared a sweet-looking girl with astonishingly long dark hair. She seemed ill-at-ease and dependent on the police officer.
    “Goodbye,” Appleford greeted them graciously. “Please sit down.” He rose to offer Mrs. Hermes a chair.
    “Mrs. Hermes,” Tinbane said, “is after information about the Anarch Peak. You have anything not yet eradicated that would help her?”
    “Probably,” Appleford said. This seems to be the topic of the day, he