ther, "we're coming in in seven minutes,
as ordered. Meanwhile, there's a news bulletin for you; the British
division has picked up another Controller--a woman named Dorrine Kent.
Two in one night ought to be a pretty good bag."

For a moment, Houston's mind was a meaningless blur.

_Dorrine!_

And then another voice broke through his shock.

"Dear me, sir! Calm yourself! You're positively fizzing!"

Houston jerked. Standing in the doorway of the office was Norcross
Lasser, with a benign smile on his face and a deadly-looking .38
automatic in his hand. Behind him stood John Sager and Loris Pederson,
their faces wary.

"Please drop that stun gun, Mr. Cop."

* * * * *

In those few moments, Houston had regained control of himself. He
realized what had happened. The interruption of his thought-probe had
startled him just a little, but that little had been enough to warn the
Controller.

He wondered which of the three men was the actual Controller.

He began to lower his weapon, then, suddenly, with all the force and
hatred he could muster, he sent a blistering, shocking thought toward
the man with the gun.

Lasser staggered as though he'd been struck. His gun wavered, and
Houston fired quickly with his stun gun. At the same time, Lasser's
automatic went off.

The bullet went wild, and the stun beam didn't do much better. It struck
Lasser's hand, paralyzing it, but it didn't knock out Lasser.

The mental battle that ensued only took a half second, but at the speed
of thought, a lot of things can happen in a half second.

Houston realized almost instantaneously that he had made a vast mistake.
He had badly underestimated the enemy.

There was no need to worry, now, about which one of the men was a
Controller--_all three of them were!_

As soon as Sager and Pederson realized what had happened, they
leaped--mentally--into the battle. Lasser, already weakened by the
unexpected mental blow from Houston, lost consciousness when the others
let loose their blasts because his mind was still linked with Houston's,
and he absorbed a great deal of the mental energy meant for Houston's
brain.

Houston, fully warned by now, held up a denial wall which screened his
mind from the worst that Sager and Pederson could put out, but he knew
he couldn't hold out for long.

"Come in--_now!_" he said hoarsely into the microphone.

"Stupid swine!" Sager susurrated sibilantly.

Pederson said