d fathered the thought, two police cars
swept into the intersection at Twenty-third Street and Fifth Avenue.
The fleeing limousine was turning right to go down Fifth Avenue.

The police cars were brought to a halt to effectively stop the further
progress of the speeding limousine. Three other cars plunged in to
make the box barrage of cars effective. The fleeing car was trapped.
Barter must know that. If he did know, it proved that he could see
everything that transpired. The next few seconds would show.

- - -

Bentley gasped as he put his hand on the driver's arm to have him slow
down to prevent a wholesale pile-up in the busy intersection. He
gasped with horror as he did so, for the fleeing car was now going
crazy. It zigzagged from side to side. Now it rode the two right
wheels, now the two left.

And suddenly the driver swung nimbly out through the left window, his
hands reaching up over the top, and in a moment he was on the roof of
the careening car.

"I've seen apes swing into trees like that," Bentley thought.

While the car plunged on, the creature stood up on the doomed
limousine, and in spite of the fact that the wind of the car's
passing must have been terrific, the ghastly hybrid jumped up and
down on the top like a delighted child viewing a new toy or riding a
shoot-the-chutes.

Suddenly the creature's right leg went through the top's fabric. It
struggled to regain its footing as an ape might struggle to regain
position on a limb in the jungles.

At that moment the fleeing car crashed mercilessly into the two
nearest police cars ahead. The men inside had expected the driver to
slow down to avoid a collision. How could they know what sort of brain
lurked within the driver's skull? They couldn't ... and three
policemen paid with their lives for their lack of knowledge as their
bodies were hurled beneath a mass of twisted wreckage, crushed out of
human semblance.

- - -

The hybrid atop the fatal car was hurled through the air like a
thunderbolt. His body passed over the railing of the subway entrance
before the Flatiron Building and Bentley knew he had crashed to his
death on the steps.

The police car had already come to a stop, and Bentley was running
toward the subway entrance.

The shapeless bleeding bundle on the steps no longer even resembled a
man. Fortunately nobody had been struck by the hurtling body; and,
miraculously enough, Barter's pawn was not yet qu