"Leave him alone! I saw him swallow something as he left. I think he's drugged. Clear the lobby but watch him from hiding. I'll get him before he goes far." John Dyer trudged back to the beer hall. "Give me your rifle," he told an armed man. Before the man could say anything Dyer snatched the rifle from him. "All right," Dyer said. "Who's going with me?" "Hold on," Sordman said. "Where are you going?" "After Smith." "I'm going after him. Let him go and I'll have him out cold before an hour's up." "There isn't anything a rifle can't stop." Sordman understood. These men were afraid of Talent. But some, like Dyer, had to fight that fear. They had to prove that intelligence and the technical power organized society gives individual men were superior to Talent. "I can't stop you," Sordman said. "But listen to me. Smith has to be captured alive. The man is insane. He's no more a villain than you or me. He just tampered with a force he couldn't control. You might stop him with a bullet but you'll have to kill him to do it." "He killed two of us," a man said. "He's drugged. He can hide and kill you from a distance." "So can we," Dyer said. "That's what we do with rifles." Sordman ran his fingers through his hair. "Stay under cover then. And if I get him pacified, let him live." * * * * * The wall phone buzzed. "Sordman." "This is the Manager. He stole a hatchet in the leisure store. He's out in the park." "Did anybody try to stop him?" "I cleared the place out." "Some of your tenants are going after him. Don't let anybody else join them. I wish myself they wouldn't go." After he hung up the three of them went up a floor and rang the buzzer of a one-tenant apartment. As politely as they could, Lee and George bundled the occupant out. "I wish you'd let the state police capture him," George said. "I've got to get to him before they kill him," Sordman said. "Andy, there are limits to what you can take! Smith has gone berserk. You connect with an insane man and you may shatter all over the place." Sordman stroked his beard. "Let him go," Lee said. "Can't you feel he has to do this?" "Yes, but I won't admit it. I trained you, Andy. You're my life's work. I don't want you to wreck yourself." Sordman nodded soberly. "I know, George. I'll take care of myself." He thought tender thoughts and tried to make them feel how much he loved them. "Let's go," Lee mumbled. "Come on, George." He closed the door gently. The window of the apartment overlooked the park. He stared at the thick trees and wondered where Smith was running under that green roof. Then he turned to the picture phone and punched out a number. The screen lit. It was in full color, praise God. "_Andy!_" His wife smiled when she saw him. She was a big girl with long breasts and full thighs. She wore a dark kimono. She bowed. "Good afternoon, Husband." "Good afternoon, Wife." He pressed his palms together and returned the bow.