the point," Entman beamed.

"They'd like the data you're assembling--those reports you've got in
front of you."

"I imagine they'd find them quite interesting."

"Do you think we can assume the tenth android died also?"

"Perhaps. We have no proof that it killed the one found slain in
Greenwich Village."

"I'm satisfied to assume that. But I'm wondering just what contact those
'people,' as you call them, had with their androids. Could a part of the
brain have been a sending and receiving device?"

"It would be difficult to tell. I delved in far enough to find a
mechanical device, if there had been one. It did not exist in those I
dissected. There is another possibility though, except that we often
make the mistake of assuming that what we humans on earth can't do,
can't be done. Consider telepathy. Who's to say they were not made
capable of communicating in that way--at whatever distance?" He paused
for a moment, deep in thought, before going on. "Has it occurred to you
that the tenth android might be a supervisor, the boss, the captain? If
he is still alive, why haven't you found him? You have the men and
facilities at your command."

Brent Taber sprang to his feet. "Doctor," he answered, scowling, "Did
you ever hear of a project so secret that it couldn't even be given
enough personnel to make it work?"

Entman smiled sympathetically. "Washington is a strange place in some
ways, son. Usually it's the other way around. You get so much help they
get in each other's way. I'm glad I'm not involved in those phases of
it."

Brent paced the floor, occupied with his own thoughts. It was more than
mere frustration. It went deeper. There was his resentment of the
dressing-down he'd taken from Authority; the subtle coolness that had
begun to permeate his relations with those upstairs.

He jerked his mind away from such thoughts. Nerves. That was it. He was
tense. He was imagining things. They were certainly too well aware of
the gravity of this situation to let petty politics interfere.

Or were they?

"Okay, Doc," Brent said crisply. "Thanks for letting me pick your
brain."

"Good luck, son."

Entman went back to his work and Taber left. As he walked down the
corridor, he analyzed the cheerful tone of Entman's voice and told
himself that even Entman didn't really believe it. Entman had the
evidence before his eyes but he still couldn't get the concept of alien
creatures from space really taking us over. It wa