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And then he heard the whir of helicopter blades over the building. The police had come.

He opened the door of the lab building as they came up the steps. There were two plainclothes men–the Technical Squad, Bending knew–and four uniformed officers.

* * * * *

The plainclothesman in the lead, a tall, rather thin man, with dark straight hair and a small mustache, said: “Mr. Bending? I’m Sergeant Ketzel. Mind if the boys take a look at the scene? And I’d like to ask a few questions?”

“Fine,” said Sam Bending. “Come on in.”

He showed the officers to the lab, and telling them nothing, left them to their work. Then he went into his office, followed by Sergeant Ketzel. The detective took down all the pertinent data that Bending chose to give him, and then asked Bending to go with him to the lab.

The other plainclothesman came up to Sergeant Ketzel and Bending as they entered. “Pretty easy to see what happened,” he said. “Come on over and take a look.” He led them over to the wall where the Converter had been hidden.

“See,” he said, “here’s your main power line coming in here. It’s been burned off. They shut off the power to cut off the burglar alarm to that safe over there.”

Ketzel shook his head slowly, but said nothing for the moment. He looked at Bending. “Has the safe been robbed?”

“I don’t know,” Bending admitted. “I didn’t touch it after I saw all this wreckage.”

Ketzel told a couple of the uniformed men to go over the safe for evidence. While they waited, Bending looked again at the hole in the wall where the Converter had been. And it suddenly struck him that, even if he had reported the loss of the Converter to the police, it would be hard to prove. The thief had taken care to burn off the ends of the old leads that had originally come into the building. Bending himself had cut them a week before to install the Converter. Had they been left as they were, Bending could have proved by the oxidation of the surface that they had been cut a long time before the leads on this side of the Converter. But both had been carefully fused by a torch.

“Nothing on the safe,” said one of the officers. “No prints, at any rate. Micros might show glove or cloth traces, but–” He shrugged.

“Would you mind opening the safe, Mr. Bending?” Sergeant Ketzel asked.

“Certainly,” Bending said. He wondered if the safe had been robbed. In the certainty that it was only the Converter that the burglars had been after, he hadn’t even thought about the safe.

Bending touched the handle, turned it a trifle, and the door swung open easily in his hand. “It wasn’t even locked,” Bending said, almost to himself.

He looked inside. The safe had been thoroughly gone through, but as far as Bending could see, there were no papers missing.

“Don’t touch anything in there, Mr. Bending,” said Ketzel, “Just tell us as much as you can by looking at it.”

“The papers have been disturbed,” Bending said carefully, “but I don’t think anything is missing, except the petty cash box.”

“Uh-huh,” Ketzel grunted significantly. “Petty cash box. About how much was in it, Mr. Bending?”

“Three or four thousand, I imagine: you’ll have to ask Jim Luckman, my business manager. He keeps track of things like that.”

“Three or four thousand in petty cash?” Ketzel asked, as though he’d prefer Bending to correct the figure to “two or three hundred.”

“About that. Sometimes we have to order equipment of one kind or another in a hurry, and we can usually expedite matters if we can promise cash. You know how it is.”

Sergeant Ketzel nodded sourly. He evidently knew only too well how it was. Even the most respectable businessmen were doing occasional business with the black market in technological devices. But he didn’t say anything to Bending.