Faircloth grinned. "It should be obvious by this time. We feed the
computer with all the evidence we have, and let it meditate a while
and plot out a supremely logical approach to trap the creature on
the basis of what we know of him now. Then we take that supremely
logical approach, and change it a bit. We change it into a completely
_illogical_ approach."
* * * * *
The call they were waiting for came through at three o'clock one
morning, after they had almost given it up in despair.
It had been a long, heartbreaking wait. Time after time Faircloth had
pleaded that they must have been very close in Chicago, closer than
they realized, that the Alien was just temporarily frightened, because
there had been no sign, no due to the Alien's whereabouts, no sign that
he was even in existence since the Chicago raid. Yet Faircloth felt
sure that sooner or later the contact would come.
It was possible, of course, that the change in the search pattern
had worried the Alien. Logically, a dragnet should have been set up
in Chicago, and the entranceways to all the large cities guarded
carefully. That was what the computer had said. "Probability is very
strong that the Alien desires to remain in a city, but suggests that
Chicago may not be the optimum location for him. Recommended heavy
Security measures be taken in Chicago and surrounding cities of
size. The probability is very high that the Alien is seeking some
specific information. Advise close control of all spaceports, air, and
rolling-road escapeways--"
And so forth. That was what the computer had said. Of course, the
computer was far from infallible, but its analysis and recommendations
were utterly logical on the basis of the information given it. That was
exactly why they were carefully ignored.
It was a gamble, and no one was more aware of this than Faircloth.
All Security personnel were withdrawn from the Chicago area, Psi-High
and otherwise, except for a small crew headed by Ted Marino, who were
scattered throughout the city. A gamble, but it was not entirely
guesswork that made Paul so certain that the Alien, if left quite
alone, would try to make contact with a Psi-High mind sooner or later.
Of course, that conclusion itself was the result of logical reasoning.
No matter what efforts were made to remove logic from the approach, it
crept in. It had to creep in.
It was logical that a telepathically sensitive creature visiting a
strange planet would seek to learn something about the segment of the
population that could expose his presence. He would seek signs of his
own kind of thought. Paul knew too well that a Psi-High mind that
was cut off and alone was a sick mind. That was why Psi-Highs always
settled in the cities, why they sought each other with such fierce,
desperate clannishness which in itself had bred suspicion of them in
the minds of psi-negatives. It was not a matter of choice, with them.
It was a desperate need. And Paul knew how overpowering that need could
be.
No, logically, the Alien would make contact with a human Psi-High,
sooner or later. It would not be difficult to keep control of such
a contact. The Psi-Highs were very few, numbering in the hundreds,
scattered in colonies in the larger cities of the North American
States. With painstaking care each one was contacted and warned, and
those in Security Service were spotted in the most likely places for
the contact they were waiting for. The roads were left free, and the
airports and spaceports were not checked. An invisible network of human
minds lay across the country, delicately tuned, waiting for the spark
of contact.
Faircloth was asleep when the call finally came. He rolled groggily
out of bed, his heart racing, and groped for the visiphone screen. Ted
Marino's face materialized on the silvery curve; a frightened, shaking
Marino whose eyes were wide with horror, whose hands jerked nervously
as he unsuccessfully tried to control them. His voice was on the thin
edge of hysteria. "He hit me, Paul. Just a little while ago."
Paul leaned forward, staring at the pale form in the screen. "Ted, are
you hurt?"
"No, no. But oh, god!"
"It couldn't have been just another Psi-High contacting you? It's
deadly important, Ted--"
Marino shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. It _couldn't_ have been.
I've been in Psi-High contact enough to know what it's like. This was
different. It was like he'd lifted off my skull and scooped out my
brains."