ich beercellars, and even a
ten-year-old could sense an anticipation in the air, particularly
among the large number of brownshirted men who had gathered to one
side of the ground level of the beer hall. His father was telling Sven
of the history of the medieval building when a silence fell. Into the
beer hall had come a pasty faced, trenchcoat garbed little man, his
face set in stern lines but insufficiently to offset the ludicrous
mustache. He was accompanied by an elderly soldier in the uniform of a
Field Marshal, by a large tub of a man whose face beamed--but
evilly--and by a pinch faced cripple. All were men of command, all
except the pasty faced one, to whom they seemingly and surprisingly,
deferred. And then he stood on a heavy chair and spoke. And then his
_power_ reached out and grasped all within reach of his shrill voice.
Grasped them and compelled them and they became a shouting, red faced,
arm brandishing mob, demanding to be led to glory. And Sven's father
had bustled the shocked boy from the building.

It came back to him now, clearly and forcefully, and he realized that
whatever it was with which the Beast of Berchtesgaden had enchanted
his people, that power was on call in Homer Crawford. Whether he used
it for good or evil, that enchanting power was on call. And again Sven
Zetterberg was shaken.

Homer Crawford was on his feet, preparatory to leaving.

The Swede simply _had_ to reassert himself. "Dr. Crawford, the
Reunited Nations is not without resources. You'll be arrested before
you leave Dakar."

An element of the tenseness left the air when Crawford smiled and
said, "Doctor, for several years now I have been playing hide and seek
in the Sahara, doing your work. You mentioned earlier that my team is
the most experienced and capable. Just whom are you going to send to
pick me up? Members of some of the other teams? Old friends and
comrades in arms. Many of whom owe their lives to my team when all
bets were down. Please do send them, Doctor, I am going to need
recruits."

He swung and left the office and even as he went could hear the angry
Reunited Nations chief blasting into an interoffice communicator. He
decided he'd better see if there wasn't a back door or window through
which to leave the building. He'd have to phone Bey, Isobel and the
others and get together for a meeting to plan developments. El Hassan
was getting off to a fast start, already he was on the lam.

* *