series of lighter blows, and it obedientlyclicked and this time continued clicking; and we were on the highwayagain.
Making an effort to control my breathing and to muffle the sound of myrapidly pounding heart, I leaned forward and examined the controls ofthe auto intently.
There was a phone. Not a visiphone, of course, but a phone nonetheless.A means of communication. There was also a luminous radar dial thatmight or might not mean automatic controls.
Which might or might not be in operation.
I concentrated on the hands and feet of the driver. Neither movedperceptibly. The course of the vehicle was straight and constant,though, so that didn't prove anything.
"Hey, where in hell is this police station?" I asked.
With a slight backward-turning motion of his head, the driver replied,"Almost there. Just a few minutes now."
As his head moved, his hands moved the wheel a bare fraction. The autodid not swerve.
I took a deep breath and hit the driver on the side of the head with mydoubled right fist as hard as I could. He slumped, and I hit him again.His hands slid from the wheel ... and the car continued on its course.
I clambered into the front seat with the driver.
* * * * *
As I lifted the mike, the auto started slowing down, and I thought for amoment it wasn't electronically controlled after all. That was ahorrible moment, and I clutched at the wheel instinctively, but the carstill did not swerve.
So I quit worrying about that and dialed the number.
The conversation, once I had the call through, took quite a littlewhile. I had to convince the man that I was serious. While I wastalking, arguing frantically, the auto was slowing almost to a stop,maneuvering over to the turning lane on the right, making the turn andfollowing a narrow road that crossed under the highway.
The urgency of my voice must have been pretty convincing, because thevoice on the other end finally said, "Well, I'll do what I can, Mr.Langston, but it'll take time. Maybe an hour. Maybe more. And so helpme, if this is a joke--"
"It's no joke," I pleaded. "Believe me, it isn't. Please make it as fastas you can. Civilization may be at stake." On that deliberately ominousnote, I hung up.
Immediately I began thinking of the things I should have done, themachinery I should have set in motion instead of the one thing I haddone. By all means, I ought to have notified the police directly. Mynotion that telenosis influenced all the police desk sergeants in townwas hysterical, baseless. Well, I could call back, even now--
But I couldn't.
The car was moving at a relatively slow speed--but still over fiftymiles an hour, on a narrow unpaved, downgrade road. Through the sidewindow I saw dark trees and shadowy brush gliding by.
And then through the window I saw lighted storefronts, mail boxes, a fewvague pedestrians on smooth sidewalks, and two dogs running tirelesslybeside the car, barking as they ran....
Repeated pounding on the heavy black box did not restore reality.
Now I did not dare use the phone again or even think about it. I wassitting beside the driver, and the driver was sitting erect at thewheel.
On a sudden, stupid impulse, I struck at the driver's head, and my handwent through it without touching anything. I groped with my hand until Ifelt the man's limp head where my eyes said his shoulder was.
With a suppressed shudder, I drew my hand away and sat back in the seatto wait. It couldn't be long now.
The car turned a corner and continued at a much slower pace. It wentperhaps a hundred yards before it pulled to the curb and stopped. Acrossthe street I saw the police station. The entrance looked like any otherstore or business entrance, but a marquee-sign above the entrance read:"Section 4 Police Station."
The driver sat motionless behind the wheel. He would not move, I knew,until....
I shrugged, picked up the defense mech, and opened the door.
Pedestrians walked by along the sidewalk, and autos glided in bothdirections on the street. Dogs yapped at my heels. I ignored them. Theydid not exist.
But I knew the police station did exist.
I walked directly toward the entrance--a long kitty-corner across thestreet. When a powerfully humming auto headed toward me, I closed myeyes and braced myself and continued walking.
It is not a pleasant sensation to be run down by a car--even a dream-carwith no substance.
My skin was prickly and my palms moist. I could feel the blood poundingin my head.
The door to the police station was open. A short flight of stairs wentup to another door that was closed. I did not ring the bell, but openedthe door and stepped into the reception room.
The room was empty except for the uniformed policeman sitting at theradio bank on the other side of the railing with his back to me. He woreearphones.
As the door clicked shut, the policeman turned in his swivel chair toface me.
"Hello, Langston, we've been expecting you," he said.
It was Isaac Grogan.
I smiled and replied with calmness that amazed me:
"Yes, I daresay you have, Zan Matl Blekeke."
* * * * *
Maxwell and I were alone in the small, bare, brightly lighted butwindowless room.
Blekeke had spent a half-hour after my arrival trying to find out howmuch I knew. But after my initial shocker--letting him know that Irecognized him--I had kept my mind closed tightly; and I was keeping itclosed now. Blekeke was still listening in--I had no doubt of that.Maxwell knew it too, for he made no attempt at conversation.
He sat with his back to the walls in one corner, and I crouched inanother corner, and we sat there, staring at the walls and at eachother, not daring to speak or to think.
After about ten or fifteen minutes the door opened, and Blekeke steppedin. He was wearing earphones, and a wire trailed behind him. In one handhe carried a blaster.
He smiled broadly and nodded, once at each of us. "Something show you,"he said. "Watching."
He pushed a button on the wall beside the door and the lights died. Foran instant everything was black, and I braved myself. Then the wallbeside Blekeke glowed, flickered--and a scene in black and white cameinto focus.
"This observer room," Blekeke said. "Show what camera top meeting hallsee."
The scene was dim; a half-moon bobbed and splashed in ocean waves in thebackground. In the right foreground, close and large, dark and dull, wasthe spaceship.
It was Martian, but not military. An old cargo carrier. Its rear jetswere extinguished, but the ship was vibrating.
_Leaving?_ I wondered--and Blekeke caught my thought over the telenizerearphones.
_No--just arriving_, was his answer in my mind. _But it leave again verysoon. You with. Soon no matter what you know. What did. Soon gone._
_How soon?_ I demanded.
Blekeke spoke aloud: "Very soon. Fifteen, twenty, half-hour minutes.Looking more. All way right."
I looked at the extreme right edge of the picture, where a rough,shadowy hillock arose. While I watched, an opening appeared in thehillock and a dim human figure emerged. It stood erect and walked acrossthe stretch of gravel beach toward the spaceship. Another figure camefrom the hillock aperture and followed the first.
The thought came from Blekeke: _Cultists. Evidence. Prove my success._
_Success in what? Why? How?_
Blekeke pushed the button on the wall again, and the lights weresuddenly on, and the wall bare.
"No harm tell you now," he said. "Gone soon. No matter."
* * * * *
He leaned against the wall and crossed his fragile arms across his hugered chest. He said:
"Mars home dying. You know. Need more somewhere. Earth best, but someEarthmen deciding not want." He shrugged. "Dear Late Doctor--" he didnot bother making the mystic sign--"was brilliant man. Dr. HomerReighardt--know name? Psychiatrist. Very old. No, I not kill; deathnatural. I wanted live longer, but...." h
e shrugged again. "Learned muchfrom, howso. He founded cult. I his servant after joining. He idea veryinnocent--cure not really sick with mild 'nosis."
He smiled modestly. "I also brilliant person. Learn tech part muchrapid. Apply own idea, which not so innocent. Fact, very insidious.Telenize right persons, they _want_ Martian then! Vote to let come,yups?"
Maxwell broke in: "Then why didn't you start in on the right people atonce? Why not set up your headquarters in Belgrade and telenize theWorld Council members, instead of playing around with a bunch ofhypochondriacs here?"
Blekeke held up his hand. "So fast not so. Must work with what got.Doctor machine very simple, and he telling me not all. Not trusting evenme all way. Needing much work, then. Muchness development. Six months Iworking, then need testing. SRI, oaks? So now have proof for Marsgovernment, which verysome cautious. Demanding evidence."
This time I broke in. "Blekeke," I said, with some of the respect I wasbeginning to feel for him,