and so on up to the roof.

They moved quickly across the roof to the wall of the warehouse, which
was two stories higher than the building they were on. Of course there
were no windows in the warehouse wall facing them, except on the top
story.

But there was a single, heavy, fireproof emergency exit. It would have
taken power machinery or explosive to open that door from the outside
without a key, although from the inside it would open easily.
Fortunately, Malone had a key.

He took it out and stepped aside. "Give that lock the works," he
whispered to Boyd.

Boyd took a lubricant gun from his pocket and fired three silent shots
of special oil into the lock. Then he shot the hinges, and the cracks
around the door.

They waited for a minute or two while the oil, forced in under
pressure, did its work. Then Malone fitted the key carefully into the
lock and turned it, slowly and delicately.

The door swung open in silence. Malone slipped inside, followed by
Boyd and Dorothea Fueyo.

Infrared equipment went on again, and the eerie illumination spread
over their surroundings. Malone tapped Boyd on the shoulder, and
jerked his thumb toward the back stairs. This was plainly no time for
talk.

From the floor above, they could hear the murmur of youthful voices.

They started for the stairway. Fortunately, the building was of the
steel-and-concrete type; there were no wooden floors to creak and
groan beneath their feet.

At the bottom of the stairs, they paused. Voices came down the
stairwell clearly, even words being defined in the silence.

"...and quit harping on whose fault it was." Malone recognized Mike
Fueyo's voice. "That FBI guy was onto us, and we had to pull out; you
know that. We always figured we'd have to pull out some day. So why
not now?"

"Yeah," another voice said. "But you didn't have to go and vanish
right under that Fed's nose. You been beating it into our heads not to
do that sort of stuff ever since we first found out we could make this
vanishing bit. And then you go and do it in front of a Fed. Sure, you
got a big bang out of it, but is it smart? I ask you--"

"Yeah?" Mike said. "Listen, Silvo, they never would've got onto us if
it hadn't been for your stupid tricks. Slugging a cop on the dome.
Cracking up a car. You and your bug for speed!"

Malone blinked. Then it hadn't been Miguel Fueyo who'd hit Sergeant
Jukovsky, but Silvo. Malone tried to remember the list of Silent
Spooks. Silv