At noon he was back in Los Angeles. Perspiration was under his skin, waiting icily. He went directly to the warehouse. Hickle, in surprise, crossed the room to him. "Mister Parr!" he said. The right corner of Parr's mouth was twitching nervously. "Get a chair. Bring it to the desk." When Hickle was seated before him, Parr said, "Okay. I've got some papers. I'm going to explain them to you." He got them out. "They're all alike in form. Here." He took off the top sheet and Hickle stood up to see. "This number, here, is for the truck unit." He circled it and scribbled the word "truck." "This number." He circled it. "This number is the lot number. You see, truck number nine has lots seventeen, twenty-seven, fifty-three, thirty-one." "I get it," Hickle said. Parr's body was trembling and he threw out a tentative wave of thought probing for the Oholo, afraid that she might come silently, knowing his approximate daytime location. He began to talk rapidly, explaining. It was D-Day minus seven. After fifteen minutes, he was satisfied that Hickle understood the instructions. "There was a plain bundle this morning?" "Yes, sir. I wondered about that." "Get it." Hickle got it. Parr opened it. "Pay roll money, trucker money. Give the truckers their money when they give you their bills. I'm going to trust you, Hickle." Hickle gulped. "Yes, sir." Parr began to stuff money into his wallet. She was in Los Angeles. He knew by the pressure on his mind. "I've got to hurry. Listen. I want you to keep the workers here as long as necessary, hear? This schedule's got to be kept. And you take a thousand dollars. And listen, Hickle. This is just chicken-feed, remember that, when you're working for us." "Yes, sir!" He had her located, keeping his mind open to try to center on her. * * * * * He could center on her! She was only partially shielded, and she made no protest. She was not moving, and he could ... except that there was something wrong with the pressure. He was overlooking something. But she was not moving. Not yet. "I've got to talk fast. All these final deliveries. You'll be busy. If you need help, hire it. And listen, I'll be here from time to time if I can." "There's something wrong, Mister Parr?" Parr searched for an excuse. "It's personal ... my wife, yes, my wife, it's...." He wondered why he had used that one. It had sprung automatically to his mind. "Never mind. I'll phone in from around town. I'll try to help you all I can by phone." She was not moving, but the pressure seemed different ... _alien_! He jerked out of his seat, kicking the chair over as he headed for the door. A different Oholo! _There were two of them in Los Angeles!_ He probed out. Lauri was almost on top of him. He skidded through the door, into the street, knocking a startled man out of his path. He stared wildly in both directions. Several blocks away a cab was stalled with a red light.