t wearily to the
men outside. "It's all been settled."

A quarter hour later Bancroft's private jet was in the air. Five
minutes after that he and the pilot were bound and locked in a rear
compartment. Michael Tighe took the controls. "This boat has legs," he
said. "Nothing can catch us between here and California."

"All right." Dalgetty's tones were flat with exhaustion. "I'm going
back to rest, Dad." Briefly his hand rested on the older man's
shoulder. "It's good to have you back," he said.

"Thank you, son," said Michael Tighe. "I can't tell you how wonderful
it is to be free again."

IX

Dalgetty found a reclining seat and eased himself into it. One by one
he began releasing the controls over himself--sensitivities, nerve
blocs, glandular stimulation. Fatigue and pain mounted within him. He
looked out at the stars and listened to the dark whistle of air with
merely human senses.

Elena Casimir came to sit beside him and he realized that his job
wasn't done. He studied the strong lines of her face. She could be a
hard foe but just as stubborn a friend.

"What do you have in mind for Bancroft?" he asked.

"Kidnapping charges for him and that whole gang," she said. "He won't
wriggle out of it, I can guarantee you." Her eyes rested on him,
unsure, a little frightened. "Federal prison psychiatrists have
Institute training," she murmured. "You'll see that his personality is
reshaped _your_ way, won't you?"

"As far as possible," Simon said. "Though it doesn't matter much.
Bancroft is finished as a factor to be reckoned with. There's still
Bertrand Meade himself, of course. Even if Bancroft made a full
confession I doubt that we could touch him. But the Institute has now
learned to take precautions against extra-legal methods--and within
the framework of the law we can give him cards and spades and still
defeat him."

"With some help from my department," Elena said. There was a touch of
steel in her voice. "But the whole story of this rescue will have to
be played down. It wouldn't do to have too many ideas floating around
in the public mind, would it?"

"That's right," he admitted. His head felt heavy, he wanted to rest it
on her shoulder and sleep for a century. "It's up to you really. If
you submit the right kind of report to your superiors it can all be
worked out. Everything else will just be detail. But otherwise you'll
ruin everything."

"I don't know." She looked at him for a long while. "I don'