all that counterfeit money on some scatterbrain plan to
disrupt the country's exchange system."

Suddenly alert, the department chief snapped, "Where are you, Woolford?"

"Outside the garages, sir. But I'm going in now."

"You stay where you are," the other snapped. "I'll have every department
man and every Secret Service man in town over there within twenty minutes.
You hang on. Those people are lunatics, and probably desperate."

Inwardly, Larry Woolford grinned. He wasn't going to lose this opportunity
to finish up the job with him on top. He said flatly, "Sir, we can't
chance it. They might escape. I'm going in!" He flicked off the set,
dialed again and raised Sam Sokolski.

"Sam," he said, his voice clipped. "I've cornered the Movement's leader
and am going in for the finish. Maybe some of you journalist boys better
get on over here." He gave the other the address and flicked off before
there were any questions.

-------------------------------------

From the dash compartment he brought a heavy automatic, and checked the
clip. He put it in his hip pocket and left the car and walked toward the
garages. Time was running out now.

He strode into the only open door, without shift of pace. Two men were
posted nearby, neither of them truckmen by appearance. They looked at him
in surprise.

Larry clipped out, "The password is _Judgment_. I've got to see Professor
Voss immediately."

One of them frowned questioningly, but the other was taken up with the
urgency in Woolford's voice. He nodded with his head. "He's over there in
the office."

Now ignoring them completely, Larry strode past the long rows of sealed
delivery vans toward the office.

He pushed the door open, entered and closed it behind him.

Professor Peter Voss was seated at a paper-littered desk. There was a cot
with an army blanket in a corner of the room, some soiled clothing and two
or three dirty dishes on a tray. The room was being lived in, obviously.

At the agent's entry, the little man looked up and blinked in distress
through his heavy lenses.

Larry snapped, "You're under arrest, Voss."

The professor was obviously dismayed, but he said in as vigorous a voice
as he could muster, "Nonsense! On what charge?"

"Counterfeiting, among many. Your whole scheme has fallen apart, Voss. You
and your Movement, so-called, are finished."

The professor's eyes darted, left, right. To Larry Woolford's surprise,
the Movemen