to disassemble, for repair, a vital relay in a landing-grid on the
very day when three space-ships were scheduled for arrival. There was
pandemonium, of course, because nothing could have landed there. So when
my Talent let the relay be dismantled, with three ships expected.... But
one ship was one day late, another two days, and the third, four. He
knew it. He didn't know how, but he knew! He was discharged anyway."

Bors did not answer. The cabinet meeting in the other room went on.

"He told me," said Morgan, matter-of-factly, "that four ships would
arrive on Kandar, and when. One of them has arrived. The others will
come as predicted. He knows that a fleet will get here two days after
the last of the four. One can guess it will be the Mekinese fleet."

Bors frowned. He was interested now.

"I've another Talent," pursued Morgan. "He ought to be a paranoiac. He
has all the tendencies to suspicion that a paranoid personality has. But
his suspicions happen to be true. He'll read an item in a newspaper or
walk past, oh, say a bank. Darkly and suspiciously, he guesses that the
newspaper item will suggest a crime to someone. Or that someone will
attempt to rob the bank in this fashion or that, at such-and-such a
time. And someone does!"

"He'd be an uncomfortable companion," Bors observed wryly.

"I found him in jail," said Morgan cheerfully. "He'd been warning the
police of crimes to come. They happened. So the police jailed him and
demanded that he name his accomplices so they could break up the
criminal gang whose feats he knew in advance. I got him out of jail and
hired him as a Talent in Talents, Incorporated."

Bors blinked.

"Before we landed here," said Morgan, "I'd told him about the political
situation, the events you expect. He immediately suspected that the
Mekinese would have a ship down somewhere, to blast the fleet of Kandar
if it should dare to resist. In fact, he said positively that such a
cruiser was waiting word to fire fusion-bombs."

Bors blinked again.

"And I spread out maps," said Morgan, "and my dowser went over them--not
with a hazel twig, but something equally unscientific--his instinct--and
he assured me that the cruiser was under water five miles
north-north-east magnetic from Cape Farnell. The map said the depth
there was fifty fathoms. Then my paranoid Talent observed that there'd
be spies on shore with means to signal to the submerged cruiser. My
dowser then found a small shack