ting reflectively at his lower
lip. "Very well," he said again. "You were speaking of my predilection
for fishing. Perhaps you'd care to accompany me on a brief fishing
trip?"

"Now?" Barney asked.

"Yes, now. I believe you understand what I mean ... I see you do.
Then, if you'll excuse me for a few minutes--"

* * * * *

Barney couldn't have said exactly what he expected to be shown. His
imaginings had run in the direction of a camouflaged vault beneath
McAllen's house--some massively-walled place with machinery that
powered the matter transmitter purring along the walls ... and perhaps
something in the style of a plastic diving bell as the specific
instrument of transportation.

The actual experience was quite different. McAllen returned shortly,
having changed into the familiar outdoor clothing--apparently he had
been literal about going on a fishing trip. Barney accompanied the old
physicist into the living room, and watched him open a small but very
sturdy wall safe. Immediately behind the safe door, an instrument
panel had been built in the opening.

Peering over the spectacles, McAllen made careful adjustments on two
sets of small dials, and closed and locked the safe again.

"Now, if you'll follow me, Mr. Chard--" He crossed the room to a door,
opened it, and went out. Barney followed him into a small room with
rustic furnishings and painted wooden walls. There was a single,
heavily curtained window; the room was rather dim.

"Well," McAllen announced, "here we are."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Then, his scalp prickling
eerily, Barney realized he was standing farther from the wall than he
had thought. He looked around, and discovered there was no door behind
him now, either open or closed.

He managed a shaky grin. "So that's how your matter transmitter
works!"

"Well," McAllen said thoughtfully, "of course it isn't really a matter
transmitter. I call it the McAllen Tube. Even an educated layman must
realize that one can't simply disassemble a living body at one point,
reassemble it at another, and expect life to resume. And there are
other considerations--"

"Where are we?" Barney asked. "On Mallorca?"

"No. We haven't left the continent--just the state. Look out the
window and see for yourself."

McAllen turned to a built-in closet, and Barney drew back the window
hangings. Outside was a grassy slope, uncut and yellowed by the summer
sun. The slope