“Any assassins booked in?”

“Not this time. May I show you to your suite?”

There was a fine sitting room, glass—walled on one side with a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside. But James and Bolivar cried aloud with pleasure at a spectacular view of their own.

“Sybil!” they said while she smiled warm greetings.

“Target survey completed?” I asked, hating to intrude business into all this pleasure.

“All here,” she said, handing me a briefcase. “There will be a solemn assembly of the Sorority of the Bleating Lamb tomorrow morning at eleven.”

“We shall be there—if our equipment arrives on time.”

“Already arrived. The large trunk over there with the skull and crossbones patterns on it.”

Angelina had a lovely time passing out the weapons while I unpacked the time fixator, which very cunningly had a casing constructed to resemble a Cliaand burglar alarm. It would stick to the outside wall of the assembly hail of the Sorority of the Bleating Lamb where it would attract no notice. Nor could it be dislodged once activated since it would be frozen in time along with the building. I popped out the holoscreen and fed in the building’s dimensions and shape from Sybil’s complete and efficient report.

“Done,” I said happily. I clipped the metal case of the TII, the temporal inhibitor inhibitor, to my belt and actuated it. Nothing happened until I pressed the red button on the case that turned on the TI. Silence fell. But nothing else did. My family and Sybil were frozen, immobile in time. I turned it off; sound and movement returned. All the machines were in working order, all systems go.

There was celebration this night, dining and drinking and dancing, but early to bed. Next morning, a few minutes after eleven, my merry band was strolling down Glupost Avenues admiring the scenery—but admiring Angelina even more where she stood on the corner waving to us. The wire from her, earphone led to the musicman that she was wearing, which was really an eavesdropper amplifier

“That stained—glass window up there,” she said, pointing unobtrusively, “is in their assembly hall. Slakey’s vile voice is vibrating the glass and I can hear him far too clearly. He is in the middle of some porcuswine—wash pontificating.”

“Time,” I said, and we joined arms and strolled happily across the Street, dodging the pedcabs and goatmobiles. The rest of us went on while Bolivar stepped into the alleyway beside the building and pressed his beach bag against the wall. The beach bag cover stripped away and a handsome burglar alarm hung in its place. No one on the street had noticed. He rejoined us as we approached the front door.

“This is it, guys,” I said. “Showtime.”

I turned on the TII, then the TI. Nothing happened. Nothing happened that anyone could see that is. But the building and its contents were frozen now in time. Would remain that way—for an hour or a year—until I turned the machine off. The people inside would feel nothing, know nothing. Though they might be puzzled by the fact that their watches all seemed to be reading the same wrong time.

“James, the door if you please.”

The field of my TII interacted with the field of the TI and released the front door from time stasis. James pulled it open, closed it behind us, and we marched into the building. Once the door was closed not even an atom bomb would be able to open it. Such power I possessed!

“The big double doors ahead,” Sybil said.

“The ones with the blue baa—baas on them?” She nodded.

“Despicable taste,” Angelina said and her arm holster whipped her gun out and back in microseconds. She was looking for trouble and I hoped she didn’t find it.

The boys each took a handle and pulled when I nodded. There, directly ahead of us and staring at us was Slakey.

Reflex whipped out six guns. Angelina had one in each hand, which were slowly replaced.

Like his frozen audience, Slakey was pinned into an instant of time. Mouth open in full smarmy flight, fixed beads of perspiration on his brow. Not a pretty sight.

We walked around his audience and up the steps to his pulpit. “Are you ready my love?”, I asked Angeina.

“Never readier.”

She reached out and placed the contact disk of the temporal inhibitor against the side of his head, just above his ear. She nodded and I touched the button.

Nothing that we could observe happened. But for that brief millisecond the TII field had been turned off and the machine had sucked a copy of Slakey’s memory, his intelligence, his every thought into its electronic recesses. “The readout reads full!” Angelina said.

“Slakey, you devil from Heaven and Hell,” I exulted. “I have you now!”

Chapter 25

I worried at a fingernail with my incisors, waiting for something to go wrong. Slakey had been one step ahead of us every time so far—and not one of our operations against him had ever succeeded to any measurable degree. We had avoided disaster only through heroic efforts and last—minute leaps. It did not seem possible that on this occasion everything had worked according to plan. I had both hands around the TI; I kept it with me at all times. Now it sat on my lap as the shuttle eased into Special Corps Prime Base. I looked at the needle, as I had hundreds, thousands of times before, and it was up against the red post that read full.

Full of Professor Justin Slakey? It had better be.

It was an expectant crowd that assembled in the laboratory. Even Berkk was there, fully recovered from the brain operation and now enjoying some much deserved R and R. The talking died away and a hushed silence prevailed when I presented, almost ceremoniously, the TF to an expectant Professor Coypu.

“Is he in there?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not.” He tapped the dial. “Reads full. We’ll see. But of course there remains the major problem. How do we get Slakey Out of this TI? I can’t feed him into another machine—there would still be no way to access him. I need a human host. You will remember what that is like, Jim, when you used my brain and memories to build a time machine.”

“I let you take over my own gray matter. It was not nice. And you left me a note saying it was the hardest thing you ever did, to switch the TF off after you had built the temporal helix. To literally commit suicide.”

“Exactly. We need a volunteer to be plugged into this TF so that a madman can control his brain and body. And Slakey will not want to leave once he is there. Not too tempting a prospect. So—with those facts in mind, who will volunteer?”

This got a very impressive silent silence as everyone present thought hard about it. I realized that I had better volunteer again, better me than my wife or sons. But as I opened my mouth Berkk spoke up.

“Professor, I think you have your man. I owe you people an awful lot, owe Jim who got me out of the rock works, owe Angelina who got us out of that hell in Heaven. I was dying down there with the others. I owe my life to you both and I don’t want to see you or your sons, or Sybil, letting this nutcase near their gray matter. Just one question, Professor Coypu. Are you sure you can get him out—and get me back in when it is all over?”

Coypu nodded furiously. “Can be done, no doubt, just blast him out with a neural charge if I have to.”

“Wonderful—what will happen to the me in there if you do that?”

“Interesting thought. A neural blast cleans everything out and sets the synapses back to neutral. But—not to worry. We’ll make a recording of you in a different TF. This technique works quite well, as Jim will tell you. So whatever happens with Slakey, in the end we will get yourself back inside yourself.”

“All right.” He rose to his feet slowly, his face very pale under the dark scars. “Do it quickly before I have a chance to change my mind.”