I left the cell. The guard officer was waiting. He said, "Devils! I've heard some brawls in my time but that one in there... No wonder they brought him in chains!"

I said, "Lock him up again but hold him ready." I went up the tunnel to my room. This was a real emergency. Fate had just been playing with me until it hit me with an axe! What could I do?

My old Apparatus school professor in Wits Utilization used to say, "When the natives have you lowered in boiling oil and are sticking spears into you, it's time to accumulate data." I heeded his advice.

The night was getting on. I sat there trying to think. My eye was attracted to the viewscreen.

The interference was off in the suite. I usually kept the sound off when I was away. I turned it on.

Vantagio, Izzy, Bang-Bang and, of course, Heller were lolling around in Heller's suite. It must be just before dinner there.

Vantagio had a huge atlas on his lap. He had it open to a map of the world. At first I just thought he was riding his hobbyhorse—political science.

"... so that's what the 'democratic process' is: the politicians give the people things the politicians don't own in order to get elected. Got that, kid?"

Heller nodded. Bang-Bang said he wished they had some Scotch.

"Now, communism," continued Vantagio, "is where the people are forbidden to own anything so the commissars can grab it all for themselves. These are the essential differences between democracy and communism. You got that, kid?"

Heller said, "Yes. Political science is a wonderful subject."

"Yes," agreed Vantagio. "Politics is mostly grabbing and political science gives you a good chance to grab first."

Izzy looked around at them apologetically. "Could we please get back to the Master Plan?"

I became alert. Spinning though I was, the "Master Plan" was something I knew I had better know about. I had missed it before.

Izzy continued. "How many of these countries have to depend on voter appeal?"

Vantagio picked up the atlas and turned it toward them. He pointed. "Let's take England first...."

On went the interference. Some (bleeped) diplomat was reliving his youth in hot, synthetic sunlight on artificial grass! I hoped he got sand in his hair!

I turned off the sound and was about to throw a blanket over the viewer when the import of what I had heard struck me.

You understand that I was in a very nervous state. I was in the hands of Bawtch, which was bad enough, but I conceived that I was also in danger of being executed by the Emperor. One might have thought these were sufficient threats for one night. But here, I realized abruptly, was another one!

Heller could get at me!

They were actually conspiring, there in that suite. Heller was studying political science and there could only be one reason. If they were taking over every country in the world—and Vantagio had clearly stated they were about to take England—Heller could then control the combined military forces of the planet, and now that he knew I had tried to kill him, he would use them for only one purpose—to capture me!

It tipped the scales utterly.

I made up my mind.

I woke up Karagoz. He told me the Ford station wagon was able to run.

I was too shaky to drive. I made him get in, ignoring his plea that he had no pants or shoes on, and forced him to drive me to the hospital.

On those inventories I had seen a hypnohelmet. When I had asked Zanco for all the other new bits they had, that appeared to have been one of them.

At the hospital I pushed my way right by the old woman asleep at the desk. I made my way noisily to Prahd's bedroom.

I was not noisy enough. He was in bed with Nurse Bildirjin. Their heads popped up.

"My father!" said Nurse Bildirjin.

"It's not your father," said Prahd. "Sultan Bey, I think you have met Nurse Bildirjin? Please don't blow up the hospital."

Nurse Bildirjin professionally started to get into her uniform. "You should register at the outer desk. The first examination is three hundred lira."

I kicked her out. "Where are the inventories?"

Prahd got some pants over his skinny legs. He got on a doctor's coat, and barefoot, led the way to his office. He had the inventories in a safe.

I looked at them. There were two lots. It took me a while.

Then I was chilled. There were sixteen hypnohelmets in these shipments! My own horrible experience with them made me shudder. Sixteen of those things on the loose! I only wanted one. But fifteen more were going to go out of circulation right away!

Well, the problem was that Prahd had not had time enough to list the boxes per room. He and the hangar crew had only managed to change the labels.

I made Prahd do most of the work. It was hard to get through and between things, hard to lift up and look under things. Ward after ward crammed full of boxes.

One after another, however, due to my persistence, we unearthed them. The last one was in a bigger box along with electric slicing machines.

It was a chilly night but Prahd was really sweating when he finally had sixteen hypnohelmets in a stack out by the station wagon.

"But what are they?" Prahd pleaded as Karagoz stuffed the boxes into the wagon.

"The most deadly contrivance known to any sentient species," I said. "The thermonuclear bomb is nothing compared to them. And there you had them right in plain sight!"

He didn't look contrite enough.

"Because of this insecurity, I am not going to start your pay yet."

That made him look pretty contrite. Sort of gnashing his teeth. It would have to do.

I drove off and went back to my villa.

I have a vault opening off my bedroom that nobody knew about. I sent Karagoz back to bed. I carried the boxes in there myself, all but one.

I got it out of its carton. It smelled very new. I checked its power supply. I was careful not to be anywhere near it and I did it with a stick. It was live.

I sorted through its spares. I found the recording-strip blanks.

With great care, I put a recording strip in my machine and made the suggestion-command. I got it all ready to slide into the slot of the helmet.

I then sat down and wrote a letter to Lombar. I did not say too much. Only cheerful generalities. And then one request.

I wrote another letter to Snelz.

With great care I packaged them with Heller's last report so they would all go on the Blixo.

Now I was ready for the next stage. If this all worked, it would save my life in more ways than one.

I felt confident.

I was going to combine both the cunning skill of Earth psychology with the police techniques of the FBI. How could I miss?

It was time I turned against fate.

I phoned the taxi driver. He was in bed.

"You know that fat, dirty old whore that lives north of town—Fatima Hanim? Get her and bring her here at once." It greatly alarmed him. "Hey, what's the matter with you know who?"

I couldn't let him think there was anything wrong with my own sexual prowess or ability to control women. "She's wonderful. Fatima is for somebody else."

"I'm so relieved. There's no money-back guarantee, you know. I'll be right there with Fatima."

I opened up a spare bedroom. I threw some pillows on the floor. I fixed some lamps just right. Then I went to my lockers and got a strip camera. I put it in the corner of the room, hooked it to remote and put the remote switch in my pocket.

I picked up the hypnohelmet and went through the tunnel to the hangar.

The guard officer let me into Too-Too's cell.

Too-Too woke up. "Oh, no!" he screamed just at seeing me.

"Be calm," I said. "It is going to get worse. Put this on."

"NO!" he screamed.

The guard officer and I got it on him and chained him down.