He called Thomas by whistling a couple of bars of "Anchors Aweigh." He responded at once -- he had not gone off duty, but had remained at the pararadio, giving the prisoners an occasional fight talk and playing records of martial music. "Yes, Chief?"

"The time has come to take a powder. Allee-allee out's in free!"

"Jailbreak?"

"In the manner of the proverbial Arab -- the exact manner."

They had discussed this technique before; Thomas gave itemized instructions and then said, "Say when, Chief. "

"When!"

He could almost see Thomas nod. "Right -- oh! O. K., troops, get going!"

Ardmore stood up and stretched his cramped limbs. He walked over to one wall of his prison and stood so that the single light cast a shadow on the wall. That would be about right there! He set the controls of his staff for maximum range in the primary Ledbetter effect, checked to see that the frequency band covered the Mongolian race, and adjusted it to stun rather than kill. Then he turned on power.

A few moments later he turned it off, and again regarded his shadow on the wall. This required an entirely different setting, directional and with fine discrimination. He turned on the red ray of Dis to guide him in his work, completed his set-up, and again turned on power.

Quietly and without fuss, atoms of metal rearranged themselves and appeared as nitrogen, to mix harmlessly with the air. Where there had been a solid wall was now an opening the size and shape of ,a tall man dressed in priestly robes. He looked at it, and, as an after thought, he meticulously traced an ellipse over the head of the representation, an ellipse the size and shape of his halo. That done, he reset the controls of his staff to that he had used before, turned on power, and stepped through the opening. It was a close fit; he had to wriggle through sideways.

Outside it was necessary to step over the piled-up bodies of a dozen or more PanAsian soldiers. This was not the side of the welded-up entrance; he guessed that he would have found guards outside each and any of the four walls, probably floor and ceiling as well.

There were more doors to pass, more bodies to clamber over before he found himself outside. When he did, he was completely unoriented. "Jeff," he called, "where am I?"

"Just a second, Chief. You're -- No, we can't get a fix on you, but you are on a line of bearing almost due south of the nearest temple. Are you still near the palace?"

"Just outside it."

"Then head north -- it's about nine squares."

"Which way is north? I'm all turned around. No wait a minute -- I just located the Big Dipper, I'm all right."

"Hurry, Chief."

"I will." He set out at a quick dogtrot, kept it up for a couple of hundred yards, then dropped into a fast walk. Damn it, he thought, a man gets out of condition with all this desk work.

Ardmore encountered several Asiatic police, but they were in no condition to notice him; he had kept the primary effect turned on. There were no whites about -- the curfew was strict with the exception of a pair of startled street cleaners. It occurred to him that he should induce them to go with him to the temple, but he decided against it; they were in no more danger than a hundred fifty million others.

There was the temple! -- its four walls glowing with the colors of attributes. He broke into a run and burst inside. The local priest was almost at his heels, arriving from the other direction.

He greeted the priest heartily, suddenly realizing the strain he had been under in finding how good it was to speak to a man of his own kind -- a comrade. The two of them ducked around back of the altar and went down below to the control and communication room, where the pararadio operator and his opposite number were almost hysterically glad to see them. They offered him black coffee, which he accepted gratefully. Then he told the operator to cut out of Circuit A and establish direct two-way connection with headquarters with vision converted into the circuit.

Thomas appeared to be about to jump out of the screen. "Whitey!" he yelled. It was the first time since the Collapse that anyone had called Ardmore by his nickname. He was not even aware that Thomas knew it. But he felt warmed by the slip.

"Hi, Jeff," he called to the image, "good to see you. Any reports in yet?"

"Some. They are coming in all the time."

"Shift to relay through the diocese offices; Circuit A is too clumsy. I want a quick report."

It was forthcoming. Within less than twenty minutes the last diocese had reported in. Every priest was back in his own temple. "Good," he told Thomas. "Now I want the proprietor in each temple set for counteraction, and wake all those monkeys up. They ought to be able to use a directional concentration down the line each priest returned on, and reach clear back to the local jailhouse."

"O.K., if you say so, Chief. May I ask why you don't simply let 'em wake up when the effect wears off?'

"Because," he explained, "if they simply come to before anybody finds them the effect will be much more mysterious than if they are found apparently dead. The object of the whole caper was to break the morale of the Asiatics. This increases the effect."

"Right -- as usual, Chief. The word is going out."

"Fine. When that's done, have them check the shielding of their temples, turn on the fourteen-cycle note, and go to bed -- all that aren't on duty. I imagine we'll have a busy day tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Aren't you coming back here, Chief?"

Ardmore shook his head. "It's an unnecessary risk. I can supervise just as effectively through television as I could if I were standing right beside you."

"Scheer is all set to fly over and pick you up. 'He could set her down right on the temple roof."

"Tell him thanks, but to forget it. Now you turn it over to the staff duty officer and get some sleep."

"Just as you say, Chief."

He had a midnight lunch with the local priest and some conversation, then. let the priest show him to a stateroom down underground.

Ardmore was awakened by the off duty pararadio operator shaking him vigorously. "Major Ardmore! Major! Wake up!"

"Unnh ... . M-m-m-m ... . Wassa matter?"

"Wake up -- the Citadel is calling you -- urgently!"

"What time is it?"

"About eight. Hurry, sir!"

He was reasonably wide awake by the time he reached the phone. Thomas was there, on the other end, and started to talk as soon as he saw Ardmore. "A new development, Chief -- and a bad one. The PanAsian police are rounding up every member of our congregations -- systematically."

"H-m-m-m -- it was an obvious next move, I guess. How far along are they?"

"I don't know. I called you when the first report came in; they are coming in steadily now from all over the country."

"Well, I reckon we had better get busy." It was one thing for a priest, armed and protected, to risk arrest; these people were absolutely helpless.

"Chief -- you remember what they did after the first uprising? This looks bad, Chief -- I'm scared!"

Ardmore understood Thomas' fear; he felt it himself. But he did not permit his expression to show it.

"Take it easy, old son," he said in a gentle voice.

"Nothing has happened to our people yet and I don't think we'll let anything happen."

"But, Chief, what are you going to do about it? There aren't enough of us to stop them before they kill a lot of people."

"Not enough to do it directly, perhaps, but there is a way. You stick to collecting data and warn everybody not to go off half-cocked. I'll call you back in about fifteen minutes." He flipped the disconnect switch before Thomas could answer.