"Hmphf ..." Johnson, Jason thought, was getting old. He'd been a good man in his day but-- Hey, he was still a good man! It was Jason's own stubbornness that was wearing Johnson down. Jason's useless stubbornness. After all, without the backing of Anx or Gov, without results from the equipment he had filched to use on Lonnie, what was the use of everlastingly sticking around the Tiara like a fly buzzing molasso-saccharine anyway? Jason opened his mouth to send them all home, pressed the communico button and--shelved the relieving order temporarily. Instead, he blasted into the microphone: "Sergeant! SERGEANT!" From the communico, an intermittent drone became a gasping gulp; changed into a violent yawn and only then turned into startled speech. "Yeah? Huh?... Yeah, Chief!" "Sergeant, if I ever catch you asleep again, you won't ever get your pension." "Chief, I wasn't asleep! Honest! I--" "All right. What's happening up there?" "Nothin' ... nothin' ... I wasn't asleep, Chief. I'd'a called you 'f anything--" * * * * * Something bright, or was it dull, plucked at the edge of Jason's vision. Inside the Fane, far down at one end. A thin, vertical bar of difference in the blaze of light. Chin half turned, Jason stared. What?... "_Chief!_ That tracer's asleep--I mean--that there tracer's just GONE t'sleep! I mean--Chief! It's--" "Shut up!" Jason hissed. "Holland! If you've let anyone slip past you out of that house--" "Nobody did. You know me better than that, Chief." "Adams! McGillis! Johnson! What's happening?" "Nothing ..." "Not a thing ..." "_Johnson!_" Jason licked suddenly dry lips. "Dammit, Johnson, report!... _Johnson!_" Silence. Grimly, Jason watched the vertical bar of different brightness edge back to the Fane's East wall and disappear into the even dazzle of the marble. He had a feeling it wasn't any use calling Johnson again. Ever. "Chief, what's up? What do we do?" "Huh? Oh ... You, Holland, get over to the East Entry as fast as your legs'll stretch." "There in three minutes flat!" "You, too, McGillis." "On my way!" "Adams, you stick at that West Entry. If anything gets past you, I'll--" "Don't worry, Chief. I've got Johnson to even up for." Not watching how he ran, Jason hurled himself toward the East Entry; his eyes following, in the opposite direction, a dullness moving in the blaze inside the Fane. A smoothly moving, white on white, unfaced ghost of whiteness within, a part of, the blazing radionic light. Just as he rounded the East end of the Fane, he glimpsed the vertical bar of whiteness again--the edge of the marble slab that was the entry door, reflecting the blazing light at a different angle. Behind it, McGillis's tightly grinning face. Under McGillis's face, the stab of blue-white light reflected a glancing ray from the old-fashioned solid-missile service pistol that Jason had insisted all four men arm themselves with for this assignment.