"The _Star-Times_ will get its story. Won't you see to that, Mr. Crippens?" McLeod stared mutely at Cripp, who finally said, "How do you know _I_ didn't attack the woman?" The stripper pouted and pointed a manicured finger at McLeod. "It was that man." "You see?" Wainwright demanded. "No," Cripp told him. "It was dark. She couldn't tell. If McLeod is arrested, they'll have to take me, too." A muscle twitched in Wainwright's face, tugging the long nose down and to the left. "Very well. But Miss Kent still represents the _Star-Times_." Cripp shook his head. "A co-respondent?" "She's capable." "Too damned capable," McLeod said. "I have positive proof that Tracy Kent is employed as a spy by the _World_." He turned on Wainwright with what he hoped would pass for righteous indignation. "Is that the kind of fair break you try to give the opposition?" The encircling crowd stirred, trembling with whispers. McLeod pressed his advantage by jabbing a finger at the captain of police. "I demand the right to call my newspaper." "Well, I don't know." The man looked to Wainwright for help. "Never mind him," McLeod said. "You tell me. I'm within my rights as a newspaperman, or wouldn't you know about that?" Someone brought out a portable phone and thrust it at McLeod. The captain of police looked at Wainwright, who shook his head quickly from side to side. It was all right. Sure it was all right. McLeod could make no accusations in public, the law said. If he started, he would forfeit his right to complete the call. He could tell Overman that Tracy and Cripp had him, instead, but he doubted if the City Editor would act on that basis. Wainwright grinned. "There's your phone, McLeod. We're waiting for you to call." "Thanks a lot," McLeod told him, and hurled the instrument at his face. He heard a thud and a startled oath and didn't wait to see the results. He whirled and struck out with the edge of his hand, slicing it expertly at the police captain's Adam's Apple. McLeod vaulted over the gagging man as he went down and plunged, head tucked against his chest and knees kicking high, into the first rank of the crowd. He fought elbows, fists, shoulders, legs, warm human breaths, reaching the front of the room and sprinting past the weaponcheck arsenal and out into the green, summery glade that surrounded the anachronism of stone and glass that was the Fourth Estate. * * * * * Protected by a force field, the grounds around the Estate knew nothing but summer. But elsewhere, McLeod thought as he plunged on toward the copter field, man's control over the elements vied for headlines. McLeod saw the figure of a man up ahead as he rounded the final turn in the path, still sprinting. The man stood squarely in front of him, blocking his way with a drawn parabeam. "Did he come this way?" McLeod cried. "Talk, man! Did McLeod come this way?" "No, sir. He, wait a minute...."