"How do we know you'll bring in the right man?" "If he's the right man, he'll make it plain enough." "You'll make him confess," the young man said. "You'll manipulate him like a puppet." "What good will that do?" Sordman said. "Do you think I could control a man all the time he's in prison and on trial? If I use my Talent more than a few hours, I collapse." "Can we hold the girl here?" asked the redheaded fat man. "Feed her and treat her right," Sordman said. "What's your name?" "John Dyer. My friends were about to use their belts on her." A rifleman shuffled uneasily. "It's the only way. Mind killers use their Talent to tie their tongues and confuse us. Only pain can break their control." "That's a fairy tale," Sordman said. "Without drugs a Talent is helpless." "We've got the girl," John Dyer said. "She can't hurt us while we're waiting." "_He can!_" the young man screamed. "Are you a plain fool? He can go outside and kill us all." Sordman laughed. "Sure I could. And tomorrow I'd have to fight off an army. That I couldn't do if I was fool enough to try. You're frightened, boy. Use your head." "You are excited, Leonard," said an armed man. He wore a blue morning coat with Manager's stars and the emblem of a transportation company. "We can wait a day. If we've got the killer, then we're safe. If we don't, then we've failed and the Protector should try." "I'm not frightened. I just don't like Talent." Most of the men frowned. They didn't share the prejudice. A few nodded and mumbled and shot dark glances at Sordman. He let them talk. He stood there and thought apple pies and the brotherhood of man and the time he and his second wife spent three days in bed. And the big block of stone. He was a high-powered transmitter broadcasting joy, good will toward men and tranquility. In the end they listened to Dyer. "But don't think you'll get a minute past midnight," said the young man. "Technician, your Protector will remember." * * * * * Clarke Esponito had been a hard, quick little man in his early fifties. On the day of his death, the hotel newspaper had published his picture and announced his promotion to Director of Vocational Testing for the entire Atlantic Region. He had lived with his wife and his nineteen-year-old son, and his wife had been a lifetime wife. Esponito had been a Catholic, and that faith still called short-term marriages a mortal sin. For a moment Sordman wondered what it would be like to know only one woman your entire life. He loved the infinite variety of God's creation and wanted to sample as much of it as he could. "Mylady Widow, our apologies." Lee bowed, hands before her chest, and Sordman and George Aaron bowed with her. "We intrude on you," Lee said, "only because we have to find the real killer. Other people may be in danger." The Widow Esponito bowed in return. "I understand, Politician Shawn."