... into the apartment in Bristol. He cautioned Avis to be quiet, and then opened the door silently into the living room. Tanner wasn't there but his lieutenant, Langerman, was. A small, wiry man with a rodent's face and sliding eyes who preferred looking at the small of a man's back rather than looking him straight in the eyes. It had been necessary for Tanner and he to include one man in their confidence, one man who would hold down the fort in Bristol and watch the panels that marked the location of the fifty fusion packages and the agents. Langerman was sitting by the fusion package panel, reading a newspaper. He looked up when Stan stepped into the room. "How's it going, boss?" "It's going all right," Stan said casually. He reached into his pocket for some money. "How about going down to the corner and having some lunch sent up? Anything that looks good." * * * * * Langerman grabbed the coin, shrugged, and sauntered towards the door. "Sure thing. Sandwiches and tea." As soon as he was gone, Stan motioned Avis into the room and started writing down the exact locations of the fusion packages. Suddenly there was a voice behind him. "Hey, what's going on? How'd the chick get in?" Langerman had come back, his shirt faintly spattered with rain drops. He had gotten as far as the front door, Stan thought, discovered the state of the weather, and come back for a rain coat. _Nothing was going right...._ It was too late for explanations. Langerman's hand had snaked beneath his suit coat and come out with a small pistol. "Tanner would like to hear about this," he said, his eyes narrow. He should have thought of that long ago, Stan thought coldly. Tanner hadn't trusted him, never had. Tanner had watched him. And when Tanner wasn't around to do the watching, he had made sure that somebody else was. He didn't argue. He straightened out and dove for Langerman's legs. There was a sharp report and a splintering sound behind him and then Langerman was down, frantically trying to hit Stan in the face with the pistol butt. Stan rolled him violently against the wall and grabbed for the hand that held the pistol. He caught it and tried to force it back. The two arms wavered, then Langerman began to give a little, his arm moving slowly back. A world was in the balance, Stan thought grimly, and with a surge of strength he had the pistol. He slashed at Langerman's head and the little man went limp. He stood up and thrust the list into Avis' hand. "There it is--all fifty. I've marked the ones I'll try to work myself." She took the list and started back to the whirling circle. "We'll meet again?" he pleaded. "Right here," she said calmly. "On November 4th." He watched her disappear, then worked the dials for another destination and stepped through to the unknown. He had four days, he thought, in which to save a world. Four short days. CHAPTER XI