n the
Restricted List. Sam wasn't as dependent on them as college and
university research men were, simply because he was engaged in
industrial work, which carried much higher priorities than educational
work did.

Sam, however, was fed up with the whole mess, and would have given his
eyeteeth to clear up the whole stupid farce.

* * * * *

Irritated by every petty distraction at his office, Sam Bending finally
gave up trying to cope with anything for the rest of the day. At three
in the afternoon, he told his secretary that he was going home, jammed
his hat on his head, and went out to his car.

He got in, turned the switch, and listened to the deep hum of the
electric motors inside. Somehow, it made him feel so good that the
irritations of the day lessened a great deal. He grinned.

Power Utilities hadn't even thought of this hiding place. The Converter
in the rear of the car gave the vehicle far more power than it needed,
but the extra juice came in handy sometimes. The driving motors wouldn't
take the full output of the generators, of course; the Converter hardly
had to strain itself to drive the automobile at top speed, and, as long
as there was traction, no grade could stall the car. Theoretically, it
could climb straight up a wall.

Not that Sam Bending had any intention of climbing a wall with it.

He even had power left over for the sound-effects gadget and the
air-heater that made the thing appear to be powered by an ordinary
turbo-electric engine. He listened and smiled as the motors made
satisfying sounds while he pulled out of the parking lot and into the
street. He kept that pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face for six
blocks.

And then he began to notice that someone was following him.

At first, he hadn't paid much attention to it. The car was just a common
Ford Cruiser of the nondescript steel blue color that was so popular.
But Bending had been conscious of its presence for several blocks. He
looked carefully in the mirror.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had been several cars of that same color
that had moved in and out of the traffic behind him. Well, he'd soon
see.

He kept on going toward the North-South Expressway, and kept watching
the steel-blue Ford, glancing at his rear view mirror every time he
could afford to take his eyes off the traffic.

It moved back and forth, but it was never more than three cars behind
him, and usually only one. Coincid