"No pictures, no identifications, no nothing, eh?"
"I'm afraid not."
Towne's voice was deadly. "Mr. Roberts, an unidentified Alien creature
has been at large in this country for three solid weeks, and your
Federal Security teams haven't even gotten near him. I want to know
why."
"I'd suggest that if you read our reports--"
"Damn you, man, I didn't come here for insolence!" Towne slammed the
cane down with a clatter. "You're answerable to the Joint Senatorial
Council of the North American States for every wretched thing you do,
and I'm ready to bring charges of criminal negligence against you in
this Alien investigation--"
"_Criminal negligence!_" Roberts jumped up, his eyes blazing. "My god,
Councilman! We've thrown everything we have into this search. This
creature has played us for fools every step of the way! We didn't even
get a look at his ship. It blew up right in our faces! Do you realize
what we're fighting here?"
"I realize quite well," said Towne, frostily. "You're fighting an
Alien who has slipped into our population, somehow, and just vanished.
There's no way to tell what he wants or what he's doing. The potential
danger of his presence is staggering. And you've fumbled and groaned
for three weeks without even turning up a hot trail. You haven't even a
coherent description of him--"
"We're fighting a telepath," Roberts said softly. "An Alien with
telepathic powers like nothing we've ever dreamed of. That's what we're
fighting. And we're losing, too."
The girl across the room stirred uneasily. Ben Towne's green eyes shot
over to her viciously. "And you're using freaks like her to help him
hide, I suppose."
"Jean Sanders is not a freak." Roberts' voice grated in the still air
of the room. "She's Psi-High, and she's the most valuable asset we've
got in this search at the present moment. It's a real pity there aren't
more Psi-Highs that have had her training."
"And you sit there and tell me you'd dare use Psi-Highs in an
investigation as critical as this?"
Roberts sighed in disgust. "Councilman, you don't have any idea what
you're saying."
"I beg to differ," Towne's eyes flashed. "I happen to be aware that
there are a group of individuals wandering around loose who will have
this country in chains in a hundred years if they're allowed to develop
as they please. Psi-Highs are a vicious menace, nothing more nor less.
We can't help it that we have them. The fools in the government were
blind two hundred years ago when they first started appearing, and
psi-factors are gene-controlled. But they can't use their extra-sensory
powers without training."
He picked up the cane and leaned forward at Roberts. "Thanks to Reuben
Abram's meddling over at the Hoffman Center, some of them are already
developing their psi-faculties, learning to use a treacherous power
that has no place in civilized society. Well, _I don't want them
working in Security_! Is that clear enough?"
Roberts sighed tiredly and leaned back in his chair. "You're confused
a little," he said. "This is not the Rotary Club. It's not a Federal
Isolationist rally, and it's not the Senate floor, either. It's just me
you're talking to. And to my knowledge, you haven't succeeded as yet
in removing all Psi-High rights. You've gotten laws through Congress
to make them take tests and submit to registration; you've passed laws
to prevent them from marrying; you've blocked their education and
hamstrung their training and developement, but you _haven't_, as yet,
been able to strip them of their citizenship--"
"Not as yet," said Ben Towne.
"And you can't, as yet, dictate the activities of the Federal Security
Commission."
"Not as yet."
Roberts' eyes blazed. "All right. Now you can listen to me for a
minute, Councilman, recording or no recording. We've got an enemy in
our midst--an Alien we've never even seen. We can thank a psi-positive
citizen out in Des Moines for spotting him in the first place. He had
the sense and the loyalty to report it to us. Normal psi-negative
individuals can't see him, can't identify him, can't even get near him.
We haven't tried Psi-High agents against him yet but we're going to
have to, whether you like it or not. Psi-negatives are strapped. The
Alien can run circles around them. Our only hope of catching him is
to use psi-positive agents, the best-trained we can get our hands on.
Like Jean, here. And if you want to stop me you'll have to reorganize
Federal Security to do it."
Towne lurched to his feet, his face white. "I may do that, Roberts." He
reached for his cane. "I may just do that."
"You'll have to throw the Liberal Council out of office first. They're
supporting me, and outvoting your American Council two to one."
Towne gave him a shrewd look. "Better start watching the telecasts, and
newstapes," he said bluntly. "Already there are rumors going around
about a mysterious Alien fugitive. Oh, I know it's top secret, but
you know how news leaks." He gave a nasty smile. "People get nervous
about rumors like that, especially when the Administration denies
them so sharply. You'd better catch him pretty quick." He nodded to
his attaché, and limped to the door. Then he glanced back over his
shoulder. "Be sure to watch the telecasts," he said, and slammed the
door behind him.
Jean Sanders stood up, white-faced and trembling. "What a vicious man,"
she murmured. "What did he mean, Bob?"
Robert Roberts shook his head, and fished a cigar from a desk drawer.
"I'm not sure that I know," he said slowly.