!" I exclaimed. "I didn't ask you to hand it to me. I want you to
TK it over to me. What's the matter? Can't you even TK a simple ash
tray?"

The lieutenant's eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

"Didn't your Poltergeist Section test this guy's aptitudes for
telekinesis before you brought him from Washington all the way out here
to Los Angeles?" I snapped at him.

* * * * *

The lieutenant's lips thinned to a bloodless line. Apparently I, a
civilian, was criticizing the judgment of the Army.

"I am certain he must have qualified adequately," he said stiffly, and
this time left off the "sir."

"Well, I don't know," I answered doubtfully. "If he hasn't even enough
telekinetic ability to float me an ash tray across the room--"

The Swami recovered himself first. He put the tips of his long fingers
together in the shape of a sway-backed steeple, and rolled his eyes
upward.

"I am an instrument of infinite wisdom," he intoned. "Not a parlor
magician."

"You mean that with all your infinite wisdom you can't do it," I accused
flatly.

"The vibrations are not favorable--" he rolled the words sonorously.

"All right," I agreed. "We'll go somewhere else, where they're better!"

"The vibrations throughout all this crass, materialistic Western
world--" he intoned.

"All right," I interrupted, "we'll go to India, then. Sara, call up and
book tickets to Calcutta on the first possible plane!" Sara's mouth had
been gradually closing, but it unhinged again.

"Perhaps not even India," the Swami murmured, hastily. "Perhaps Tibet."

"Now you know we can't get admission into Tibet while the Communists
control it," I argued seriously. "But how about Nepal? That's a fair
compromise. The Maharajadhiraja's friendly now. I'll settle for Nepal."

The Swami couldn't keep the triumphant glitter out of his eyes. The
sudden worry that I really would take him to India to see if he could TK
an ash tray subsided. He had me.

"I'm afraid it would have to be Tibet," he said positively. "Nowhere
else in all this troubled world are the vibrations--"

"Oh go on back to Flatbush!" I interrupted disgustedly. "You know as
well as I that you've never been outside New York before in your life.
Your accent's as phony as the pear-shaped tones of a Midwestern garden
club president. Can't even TK a simple ash tray!"

I turned to the amazed lieutenant.

"Will you come into my office?" I asked him.

He looked o