They hauled the driver out, left him at the road side. He was not dead, and Doug was curiously thankful for that. He had killed one man already.... He wasted a second for another glance at the sky. Closer now, and it was obvious that they had spotted the ship. He had to get the vehicle in motion somehow. A robot sped by, its air wake rocking them slightly. He had the pack on the seat beside him, and Terry was slamming the door. No clutch or brake pedal. Only one pedal, and it could only be an accelerator. But pivoted in the middle. There was no sound to the engine, no way to tell if it were running because the only dash instrument was a speed indicator. He pressed the pedal forward. And they did not move. Backward, then.... It moved. In five seconds the speed needle was climbing past eighty, going smoothly upward. He wondered if they had been seen. In a dash mirror he saw Terry and Mike turning their heads up, looking through the curved transparent metal top. "Must be a hunnerd of 'em--they're starting to land I think!" "All of them?" "I guess so--wait! Yeah, he's gonna land, too, I guess. I can't see 'em anymore. Gosh, we're sure moving." "Creepers, a hundred and _eighty_! Hey Dad, where are we going, anyway?" "To the headquarters hospital building. I think--I think that's where your mother is." "Is she hurt?" "I don't know, Mike, I don't know." He pressed his heel to the floor-board. He was glad for Tayne's sword at his side. Even for the ones the boys carried. * * * * * The sign said City of Washington, District of Columbia, Population 531,423. Speed Limit 55 MPH. Doug raised his heel, the car slowed. He frowned. No road-blocks, no pursuit! There had been plently of time since the helicopters had landed--five, six minutes perhaps. They knew where he was going, and were going to let him walk right into it, some neatly conceived trap at the hospital. So they'd be sure to have him alive ... alive, to be used as an example! Savagely, he heeled the pedal down. Let them be waiting--they were fools if they hadn't figured on the swords! Or--or he was a fool, for counting on them. The car's tires wailed as he rounded the long, curving turn that brought him onto St. Jefferson Way, past the Payne Monument, and within two blocks of the headquarters building hospital wing. The traffic was thickening, planned of course to make things look as natural as possible--not to arouse his suspicion at the last moment.... "Get those swords ready, kids...." He heard them scrape from their scabbards. And without warning the form of a woman darted into his path. He swerved, jammed the pedal forward, and the car rocked sickenly. And he had seen her face in that one awful second--it was Dot who had fallen in the street behind him! The boys were at his heels as he leapt from the car. There were white-clad men rushing toward them, and he had Dot's form in his arms as the first of them closed in.