Then Buckmaster read about himself in Wagner's mind and was certain something was wrong here. He saw that Wagner had no intention of ever letting him live, no matter how useful he might be. There was death for himself as soon as that usefulness was over. "Damn it," Wagner cursed, "relax. Let your mind open up to me. Are you deliberately trying to get yourself back in trouble by being stubborn?" Then he knew. The contact had been one-way. He had read Wagner's mind because Wagner had not realized he could do it, and had not thrown up a guard. Cautiously Buckmaster let fragments of careful thoughts escape. The moment he lowered the barriers of his mind he felt Wagner's power beat against him, wave upon wave. The sensation was frightening. Wagner seemed satisfied. Buckmaster could read very little in his mind now. "Done," Wagner said. "Now, one last warning. Don't try to double-cross me, or you'll regret the day you were born." Buckmaster's choices of action were very few. He doubted that he could make it but at least he should try to get to Duluth. At the toll bridge across the arm of the lake he bought a ticket. Nobody bothered him. He breathed easier as he rested against the iron railing waiting for the gate to open; then stopped breathing as a tall man--one of the Ruskies--leaned over beside him and said, "It won't work, friend." Buckmaster tore up his ticket. Strangely, there was a sense of relief. The force--the presence within him--whatever it was, wanted him to return to his friends. It didn't compel him, it used no coercion. It merely presented good reasons for doing so. He could do more good there than by fleeing, it suggested. And, so strongly as almost to blot out all other emotions, was the implanted desire--an urgent, compelling command--to stay and kill Koski. As Buckmaster started back, the thought struck him: Was he merely a pawn being moved by this inner power? Did he no longer have freedom of action? Was his will still his own? * * * * * Wagner was annoyed to receive the summons from Koski. He fumed inwardly as he mounted the stairs to the General's second floor receiving room. It was always humiliating to be summoned like a common officer when he was in fact the ruler of the city. Koski had slipped baldly during the past few years but Wagner knew better than to put the old figurehead out of the way. He needed the power of that prestige until he had made his own position impregnable. Originally Wagner had been an unlettered lad from the steppes. When he had been made Koski's orderly, he had used his native cunning and slyness to ingratiate himself with the old commander. Soon Koski had made him his personal adjutant. From that advantageous position of trust it had been relatively simple for him to use his insidious talents to secure advantages for himself.