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Now he could hear voices. He stopped to listen. The conversation was coming from an office down the hall–if it could be called a conversation.

There would be long periods of silence, then a word or two: “But not that way.” “Until tomorrow.” “Vacillates.”

There were three different voices.

Houston moved on down the hall, his stun gun ready. A few yards from the door, he stopped again, and, very gently, he sent out another thought-probe, searching for the minds of those within, carefully forging his way.

* * * * *

And, at that crucial instant, a voice spoke in his ear.

“Houston! What’s going on? You haven’t said a thing for two full minutes!”

“I’m all right!” Houston snapped. Only the force of long training and habit kept him from shouting the words aloud instead of keeping them to a subvocal whisper.

“All right or not,” said the other, “we’re coming in in seven minutes, as ordered. Meanwhile, there’s a news bulletin for you; the British division has picked up another Controller–a woman named Dorrine Kent. Two in one night ought to be a pretty good bag.”

For a moment, Houston’s mind was a meaningless blur.

Dorrine!

And then another voice broke through his shock.

“Dear me, sir! Calm yourself! You’re positively fizzing!”

Houston jerked. Standing in the doorway of the office was Norcross Lasser, with a benign smile on his face and a deadly-looking .38 automatic in his hand. Behind him stood John Sager and Loris Pederson, their faces wary.

“Please drop that stun gun, Mr. Cop.”

* * * * *

In those few moments, Houston had regained control of himself. He realized what had happened. The interruption of his thought-probe had startled him just a little, but that little had been enough to warn the Controller.

He wondered which of the three men was the actual Controller.

He began to lower his weapon, then, suddenly, with all the force and hatred he could muster, he sent a blistering, shocking thought toward the man with the gun.

Lasser staggered as though he’d been struck. His gun wavered, and Houston fired quickly with his stun gun. At the same time, Lasser’s automatic went off.

The bullet went wild, and the stun beam didn’t do much better. It struck Lasser’s hand, paralyzing it, but it didn’t knock out Lasser.

The mental battle that ensued only took a half second, but at the speed of thought, a lot of things can happen in a half second.

Houston realized almost instantaneously that he had made a vast mistake. He had badly underestimated the enemy.

There was no need to worry, now, about which one of the men was a Controller–all three of them were!

As soon as Sager and Pederson realized what had happened, they leaped–mentally–into the battle. Lasser, already weakened by the unexpected mental blow from Houston, lost consciousness when the others let loose their blasts because his mind was still linked with Houston’s, and he absorbed a great deal of the mental energy meant for Houston’s brain.

Houston, fully warned by now, held up a denial wall which screened his mind from the worst that Sager and Pederson could put out, but he knew he couldn’t hold out for long.

“Come in–now!” he said hoarsely into the microphone.

“Stupid swine!” Sager susurrated sibilantly.

Pederson said nothing aloud, but his brain was blazing with fear and hatred. His gun hand jerked towards a holster under his arm. Lasser was still crumpling towards the floor.

The entire action had taken less than a second.

Houston tried to fire again with his stun gun, but it required every bit of concentration he could sum up to hold off the combined mental assaults of Sager and Pederson.

But they, too, were at somewhat of a disadvantage. In order to keep all their efforts concentrated on the PD policeman, both Controllers had to refrain from putting too much attention on their bodily motions. Pederson was still fumbling for his gun, and Sager hadn’t yet started for his.