"Warden Bennington, Duncannon Prison. We're having trouble here and I need help. About thirty prisoners have seized control of our Administration Building, which includes the armory." "Riot? Duncannon? Impossible! Those men are con--" "It may be impossible, but it's happening. Now, how much help can you give me?" "Let me check, sir." The phone was silent, except for heavy breathing from Private Endrews. "Here it is, sir. In less than fifteen minutes, three cars--that's six men and they've got full equipment in those cars--will be at The Cage." "That all?" "No, sir. In twenty minutes I'll have the riot-control copter over the prison. It's got floodlights on its belly and the pilot knows the prison." "Good. What else?" "For at least two hours, that's all, sir. Standard Operating Procedure calls for the immediate establishment of a cordon at fixed points, roving patrols on the countryside west of you and blocks on all railroads, bus and air terminals--" "Someone will be in the parking lot. Give me what you have and get it moving!" It wouldn't be enough. Half of the permanent staff as hostages, enough weapons and ammo in the armory to fight a war.... He dialed again. "Operator? I want the Commanding General at Indiantown Gap. Now!" "One moment; sir." The lilt was gone from the voice. She had been listening in, the general decided. "Duty Officer, Indiantown Gap. Major Smith speaking." "Smith? Connect me immediately with General Mosby!" "I'm sorry, but the general is--" "Major, get off the line and get Mossback on before--" There was a click, another telephone rang three times, then a calm voice, "General Mosby". "Bennington here!" "Jim! You old--" "No time, Mossback, I need help. I'm down at Duncannon Prison. Got a riot on my hands, two gateguards plus myself and Ferguson to handle it. The State police can give me only another six men, in the next two hours." "One moment, Jim. Duty Officer! The First Battalion, riot-armed, on the field and in their copters in twenty minutes!" "Second and Third Battalions fully-armed, with all support sections, ready to roll in forty minutes!" "Yes, sir!" "Give me the whole picture, Jim. And by the way, I've visited the prison." Bennington gave the details in less than a minute, then added, "Thanks, Mossback." While he had been talking, Bennington had also been listening. From Mosby's end of the line came clearly that most reassuring sound, the great bull-speakers thundering out of orders that meant for a few moments rapid running and confusion, then in a few moments more the resolution of the confusion into disciplined movement. Knowing Mosby, Bennington also knew that the copters would be loaded in twenty minutes. "Thanks again," he said. "Thank you, Jim. I've been moaning for a chance to check our training. See you in half an hour." "You'll see me--" "Sure. Don't think I'd miss a real shootin' match, do you? Hang on till then." The line was dead. _Hang on till then._