Dorothea smiled. "All right, Ken," she said. "It's a great idea, at that: the blind teaching the possibly-blind to read. Give me the notebook, and I'll explain the first principles. Later, you'll have to get a notebook of your own, because these symbols are very personalized." Malone grinned and pulled a black book from his pocket. "I thought they might be," he said. "I've already got one. Let's go." * * * * * [Illustration] Sweating, Malone stared grimly at the picture he had drawn on a page of his notebook. He'd been trying the stunt for four days, and so far all he had achieved was a nice profusion of perspiration. He was beginning to feel like an ad for a Turkish bath. "No, Ken," Dorothea said patiently. "No. You can't do it that way. You've got to _visualize_ it. That's how Mike could find red Cadillacs so easily. All he had to do was--" "I know," Malone said, impatiently. "That's what the pictures are for. But I'm no artist. This doesn't even look much _like_ my office." "It doesn't have to, Ken," Dorothea said. "All it has to do is give you enough details to enable you to visualize your destination. The better your memory is, the less detail you need. But you've got to grasp the whole area in your mind." Malone lifted his eyes from the book and stared into the darkness outside the window without seeing it. Midnight had come and gone a long time ago, and he was still working. "If I don't crack this case pretty soon," he muttered, "Burris is going to find a special new assignment for me--like investigating the social life of a deserted space station." "Now, that's just what's bothering you," Dorothea said. "Get your mind off Burris. You can't teleport when your mind is occupied with other things." "Then how did the kids hop around so much during the fight at the warehouse?" "Plenty of practice," Dorothea said. "They've been doing it longer than you have. It's like playing the piano. The beginner has to concentrate, but the expert can play a piece he's familiar with and hold a conversation at the same time. Now stop worrying--and start concentrating." Malone looked at the book again. With an effort, he forced everything out of his mind except the picture. Burris' face came back once or twice, but he managed to get rid of it. He looked at the lopsided drawings that represented various items in the room, and made himself concentrate solely on visualizing the objects themselves and their surroundings. Then, as the picture became clearer and achieved more reality, he began going over the other mental exercises that Dorothea had taught him. He heard a clock tick. It was gone. There was nothing but the picture, and the room it stood for ... nothing ... nothing.... The lights went out. * * * * * Malone blinked and jerked his head up from the notebook. "What hap--" he began. And then he stopped.