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suspicion these constant hangings on your door are just part of a plan to convince you that they’re sick and that it’s all for real. And I want you to notice something: these guys did the same thing to me my first day here; and then it slackened off-until you got here.
    Then it started all over again with you.”
    “I see the point,” murmured Kane. “Yes, I see.”
    “Cutshaw’s their leader, the goddam mastermind; in a word, the biggest pain in the ass. Anyway, that’s how I see it; you can take it for what it’s worth. You want breakfast?”
    “What?” Kane looked dazed.
    “Do you want any breakfast?”
    Kane seemed far away. He was staring out the window. It was raining very heavily again. The sky was dark and distant thunder rumbled and crackled. He shut his eyes and put his head down, pinching the corners of his eyes with thumb and finger.
    “Something wrong?” asked Fell.
    Kane shook his head.
    “Something right?”
    “That dream,” Kane murmured.
    “What was that?”
    “I just flashed on a dream I keep having. A nightmare.”
    Fell raised his feet and plopped them onto a hassock. “As Calpurnia said to Sigmund Freud, you tell me your dream and I’ll tell you mine.”
    “It isn’t my dream,” said Kane.
    “Beg pardon?”
    “I said it isn’t my dream.” Kane spoke softly. “A patient of mine-a former patient: a colonel just back from Vietnam-he had a grotesque recurring nightmare. It was something that happened to him in combat; or at least the central idea of it was. And ever since he told me about it …” Kane paused; and then he turned haunted eyes on Fell. “Ever since he told me about it,” he repeated, “I keep dreaming it.”
    “Jesus,” breathed Fell.
    “Yes. Exactly.” Kane looked away. “It’s very strange.”
    “ ‘Strange’ isn’t the word. I mean, isn’t that carrying transference just a little bit far?”
    Kane looked at him a moment before he answered. “I suppose it’s all right to tell you this now.” He looked down at the rug on the floor. “Yes. At this point, why not? It was my brother.”
    “The patient?”
    “Yes.”
    “Aha. Twin brother?”
    “No.”
    “Well, that still would tend to explain it, though,” said Fell. “You’re psychically attuned. You’re brothers. You’re very close.”
    “No, we’re not.”
    “But you must be.”
    “Fell, have you ever heard of ‘Killer’ Kane?” Kane was now looking straight into Fell’s eyes.
    “Buck Rogers,” grunted Fell.
    “No, not that ‘Killer’ Kane: ‘Killer’ Kane the Marine.”
    “Oh, well, sure. Who hasn’t? The guerrilla-warfare guy. Killed forty, fifty men with his hands. Or was it eighty? Hey, hold it! Are you saying …?”
    “That’s my brother,” said Kane.
    “You’re kidding!”
    Kane shook his head.
    “You’re kidding!” Fell was sitting up straight, his expression at once amazed and pleased.
    Kane looked away. “I wish I were.”
    “Uh-oh; do I detect that you don’t get along?”
    “You do.”
    “When you were kids he put frogs in your bed at night. Is that it? Here, lie down and free-associate,” Fell said wryly. “Talk about your brother.”
    “He’s a killer,” said Kane.
    “He’s a Marine. He gets dropped behind enemy lines and does his duty. Jesus, you’re serious about this.” Fell frowned. “Come on, man, he’s a hero.” Then, “Aha!” he pounced. “Sibling rivalry!”
    Kane said, “Let’s forget it.”
    “Are you sure you know what business you’re in? These recruiting-office sergeants can be sneaky.”
    Kane closed his eyes and held his hand out to Fell, palm outward, in a gesture suggesting that Fell desist.
    “You a friend of Jane Fonda?” pressed Fell.
    “We’re close.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I’m kidding.”
    Fell nodded and stood up. “I’m for coffee. You coming?”
    Kane stayed seated. “In a minute or two. I need to change.”
    “Yeah, sure. How’s your brother, by the way? You know, I met him when I