that revolver out of your pocket and put it
away."

"Sure," Bending said. "Sure."

* * * * *

Bending's mind simply refused to function during the drive back to the
city. The FBI agent beside him just sat silently while Sam drove the
car.

Once, Sam asked: "Who is it that wants to see me?"

And the FBI man said: "Sorry, Mr. Bending; I can't answer any
questions. My job is over as soon as I deliver you."

A little later, Sam had another question. "Can you tell me where we're
going, at least?"

"Oh--" the agent laughed, "sure. I thought I had. The General Post
Office Building, on Kenmore Drive."

After that, Sam didn't say anything. That this whole affair had
something to do with the Converter, Sam had no doubt whatsoever. But he
couldn't see exactly what, and none of his wild speculations made sense.

He pulled up at last into the parking lot behind the Post Office
Building. The second FBI man came up in the steel-blue Ford, and the
three of them got out of the cars and went towards the building. It was
quite dark by now, and the street lights were glowing against a faint
falling of February mist. Bending, in spite of his topcoat, felt chilly.

They went in the back way, past the uniformed Postal Service guard, and
took an elevator to the sixth floor. None of the three had anything to
say. They walked down the hall, toward the only office that showed any
light behind the frosted glass. The lettering on the glass simply said:
_Conference Room A-6_.

The FBI man who had driven with Sam rapped on the door with gentle
knuckles.

"Yes?" said a questioning voice from the other side.

"This is Hodsen, sir. Mr. Bending is with us."

The door opened, and Sam Bending felt mild shock as he saw who it was.
He recognized the man from his news photos and TV appearances. It was
the Honorable Bertram Condley, Secretary of Economics for the President
of the United States.

"Come in, Mr. Bending," the Secretary said pleasantly. Unnecessarily, he
added, "I'm Bertram Condley."

He held out his hand, and Sam took it. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Secretary."

Condley gave out with his best friendly-politico smile. "I'm sorry to
have to drag you up here like this, Mr. Bending, but we felt it best
this way."

Sam smiled back, with a trace of irony in the smile. "It's a pleasure,
Mr. Secretary," he repeated.

Condley nodded, still smiling--but there was a spark in his eyes now. "I
see we understa