reposed--somewhatdusty--on a shelf.
Brink stepped over briskly and closed the door between the scene ofcatastrophe and the immaculate shop. Somehow, none of the mess hadspilled back through the doorway. Then he came in, frowning a little.
"The fight's out of them," he said cheerfully. "One's got a bad cut onhis head. The other's completely unnerved. _Tsk! Tsk!_ I hate to havesuch things happen!"
Sergeant Fitzgerald shook himself, as if trying to come back to a normaland a reasonable world.
"Look!" he said in a hoarse voice. "I saw it, an' I still don't believeit! Things like this don't happen! I thought you might be lucky. Itain't that. I thought I might be crazy. It ain't that! What has beengoin' on?"
Brink sat down. His air was one of wry contemplation.
"I told you I had a special kind of luck you couldn't believe. Did youreyelids twitch any time today?"
Fitzgerald swallowed.
"They did. And I stopped short an' something that should've knocked mycranium down my windpipe missed me by inches. An' again--But no matter.Yes."
"Maybe you can believe it, then," said Brink. "Did you ever hear of aman named Hieronymus?"
"No," said Fitzgerald in a numbed voice. "Who's he?"
"He got a patent once," said Brink, matter-of-factly, "on a machine hebelieved detected something he called eloptic radiation. He thought itwas a kind of radiation nobody had noticed before. He was wrong. Itworked by something called psi."
Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. It still needed clearing.
"Psi still isn't fully understood," explained Brink, "but it will do alot of things. For instance, it can change probability as magnetism canchange temperature. You can establish a psi field in a suitablematerial, just as you can establish a magnetic field in steel or alnico.Now, if you spin a copper disk in a magnetic field, you get eddycurrents. Keep it up, and the disk gets hot. If you're obstinate aboutit, you can melt the copper. It isn't the magnet, as such, that does themelting. It's the energy of the spinning disk that is changed into heat.The magnetic field simply sets up the conditions for the change ofmotion into heat. In the same way ... am I boring you?"
"Confusing me," said Fitzgerald, "maybe. But keep on. Maybe I'll catch aglimmer presently."
"In the same way," said Brink, "you can try to perform violent actionsin a strong psi field--a field made especially to act on violence. Whenyou first try it you get something like eddy currents. Warnings. It canbe arranged that such psi eddy currents make your eyelids twitch. Keepit up, and probability changes to shift the most-likely consequences ofthe violence. This is like a spinning copper disk getting hot. Then, ifyou're obstinate about it, you get the equivalent of the copper diskmelting. Probability gets so drastically changed that the violent thingyou're trying to do becomes something that can't happen. Hm-m-m. ... Youcan't spin a copper disk in a magnetic field when it melts. You can'tcommit a murder in a certain kind of psi field when probability goeshog-wild. Any other thing can happen to anybody else--to you, forexample--but no violence can happen to the thing or person you're tryingto do something violent to. The psi field has melted down ordinaryprobabilities. The violence you intend has become the most improbable ofall conceivable things. You see?"
"I'm beginnin'," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald dizzily, "I'mbeginnin' to get a toehold on what you mean. I'd hate to have to testifyabout it in court, but I'm receptive."
"So my special kind of luck," said Brink, "comes from antiviolence psifields, set up in psi units of suitable material. They don't use upenergy any more than a magnet does. But they transfer it, like a magnetdoes. My brother-in-law thought he had to lose his business because BigJake threatened violent things. I offered to take it over and protectit--with psi units. So far, I have. When four hoods intended to shoot upthe place and moved to do it, they were warned. Psi 'eddy currents' madetheir eyelids twitch. They went ahead. Probability changed. Quiteunlikely things became more likely than not. They were obstinate aboutit, and what they intended became perhaps the only thing in the worldthat simply couldn't happen. So they crashed into a telephone pole. Thatwasn't violence. That was accident."
The detective blinked, and then nodded, somehow painfully.
"I see," he said uncertainly.
* * * * *
"Somebody set a bomb in my delivery truck," added Brink. "I'm sure hiseyelids twitched, but he didn't stop. So probability changed. Theexplosion of that bomb in my truck became the most unlikely of allpossible things. In fact, it became impossible. So some electricconnection went bad, and it didn't go off. Again, when Jacaro intendedto plant a time fire-bomb to set the plant on fire--why--his eyelidsmust have twitched but he didn't give up the intention. So the psi unitnaturally made the burning of the plant impossible. For it to beimpossible, the fire-bomb had to go off where it would do next to noharm. Jacaro lost his pants."
He stopped. Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald swallowed carefully.
"I don't question it," he said dizzily, "even if I don't believe it.Will you now tell me that what just happened was a psi something keepin'violent things from happening?"
"That's it," agreed Brink. "The psi unit made the dryer-door fly off andknock a pistol out of a man's hand. If they'd dropped the idea ofviolence, that would have ended the matter. They didn't."
"I accept it," said Fitzgerald. He gulped. "Because I saw it. A courtwouldn't believe it, though, Mr. Brink!"
"Well?"
"I've been tryin' for months," said Fitzgerald in sudden desperation,"to find a way to stop what Big Jake's doin'. But he's tricky. He'sorganized. He's got smart lawyers. Mr. Brink, if the cops could use whatyou've got--" Then he stopped. "It'd never be authorized," he saidbitterly. "They'd never let a cop try it."
"No," agreed Brink. "Until it's believed in it can only be usedprivately, for private purposes. Like I've used it. Or Hm-m-m. Do youfish, or bowl, or play golf, sergeant? I could give you a psi unitthat'd help you quite a bit in such a private purpose."
Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head.
"Dry-fly fishin's my specialty," he said bitterly, "but no thank you!When I'm pittin' myself against a trout, it's my private purpose to be abetter fisherman than he's a fish. Usin' what you've got would be likedynamitin' a stream. No sport in that! No! But this Big Jake, he doesn'tact sporting with the public. I'd give a lot to stop him."
"You'd get no credit for it," said Brink. "No credit at all."
"I'd get the job done!" said Fitzgerald indignantly. "A man likescredit, but he likes a lot better to get a good job done!"
Brink grinned suddenly.
"Good man!" he said approvingly. "I'll buy your idea, sergeant. Ifyou'll play fair with a trout, you'll play fair with a crook, and anIrishman, anyhow, has a sort of inheritance--I'll give you what help Ican, and you'll do things your grandfather would swear was the work ofthe Little People. And for a first lesson--"
"What?"
"Big Jake discourages me," said Brink. "So I'll call him up and say I'mcoming to see him. I'll say if he wants this business I'll sell it tohim at a fair price. But I'll say otherwise I'll tell the newspapersabout his threats and the four of his hoods in the hospital and the twoothers on the way there. Want to come along?"
Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald reached his hand to where his servicerevolver reposed in its holster. Then he drew it away.
"He's a very violent man," he said hopefully. "I wouldn't wonder hetried to get pretty rough--him and the characters he has on his payroll.If they have to be stopped from bein' violent by--what is it? Psi units?Sure I'll come along! It'd ought to be most edifyin' to watch!"
* * * * *
There was a clanging outside. Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgeralddelayed while the two unnerved, helpless, and formerly immaculate gunmenwere loaded into the paddy-wagon and carried away--to the hospital thatalready held four of their ilk. Then Brink called Big Jake on thetelephone.
Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald listened with i
ncreasing appreciation asBrink made his proposition and explained matter-of-factly what hadhappened to Big Jake's minions who should have wrecked the EliteCleaners and Dyers. When Brink hung up, Fitzgerald had a look of zestfulanticipation on his face.
"He said