Detective Sergeant Cowder looked at Mike the Angel. "About what time was that, Mr. Gabriel?" "About six thirty-five," Mike told him. "The kids probably hadn't been here more than a few minutes." Harry MacDougal nodded in silent corroboration. "Then what happened?" asked the detective. Mike told him a carefully edited version of what had occurred, leaving out the existence of the little gadget he was carrying in his pocket. The sergeant listened patiently and unbelievingly through the whole recital. Mike the Angel grinned to himself; he knew what part of the story seemed queer to the cop. He was right. Cowder said: "Now, wait a minute. What caused those vibroblades to burn up that way?" "Must have been faulty," Mike the Angel said innocently. "Both of them?" Sergeant Cowder asked skeptically. "At the same time?" "Oh no. Thirty seconds apart, I'd guess." "Very interesting. Very." He started to say something else, but a uniformed officer stuck his head in through the doorway that led to the front of the shop. "We combed the whole area, Sergeant. Not a soul around. But from the looks of the alley, there must have been a small truck parked in there not too long ago." Cowder nodded. "Makes sense. Those JD's wouldn't have tried this unless they intended to take everything they could put their hands on, and they certainly couldn't have put all this in their pockets." He rubbed one big finger over the tip of his nose. "Okay, Barton, that's all. Take those two kids to the hospital and book 'em in the detention ward. I want to talk to them when they wake up." The cop nodded and left. Sergeant Cowder looked back at Harry. "Your alarm to the precinct station went off at six thirty-six. I figure that whoever was on the outside, in that truck, knew something had gone wrong as soon as the fight started in here. He--or they--shut off whatever they were using to suppress the alarm system and took off before we got here. They sure must have moved fast." "Must have," agreed Harry. "Is there anything else, Sergeant?" Cowder shook his head. "Not right now. I'll get in touch with you later, if I need you." Harry and Mike the Angel followed him through the front of the shop to the front door. At the door, Cowder turned. "Well, good night. Thanks for your assistance, Mr. Gabriel. I wish some of our cops had had your luck." "How so?" asked Mike the Angel. "If more vibroblades would blow up at opportune moments, we'd have fewer butchered policemen." Mike the Angel shook his head. "Not really. If their vibros started burning out every time they came near a cop, the JD's would just start using something else. You can't win in this game." Cowder nodded glumly. "It's a losing proposition any way you look at it.... Well, good night again." He stepped out, and Old Harry closed and locked the door behind him.