Repeated pounding on the heavy black box did not restore reality.

Now I did not dare use the phone again or even think about it. I was
sitting beside the driver, and the driver was sitting erect at the
wheel.

On a sudden, stupid impulse, I struck at the driver's head, and my hand
went through it without touching anything. I groped with my hand until I
felt the man's limp head where my eyes said his shoulder was.

With a suppressed shudder, I drew my hand away and sat back in the seat
to wait. It couldn't be long now.

The car turned a corner and continued at a much slower pace. It went
perhaps a hundred yards before it pulled to the curb and stopped. Across
the street I saw the police station. The entrance looked like any other
store or business entrance, but a marquee-sign above the entrance read:
"Section 4 Police Station."

The driver sat motionless behind the wheel. He would not move, I knew,
until....

I shrugged, picked up the defense mech, and opened the door.

Pedestrians walked by along the sidewalk, and autos glided in both
directions on the street. Dogs yapped at my heels. I ignored them. They
did not exist.

But I knew the police station did exist.

I walked directly toward the entrance--a long kitty-corner across the
street. When a powerfully humming auto headed toward me, I closed my
eyes and braced myself and continued walking.

It is not a pleasant sensation to be run down by a car--even a dream-car
with no substance.

My skin was prickly and my palms moist. I could feel the blood pounding
in my head.

The door to the police station was open. A short flight of stairs went
up to another door that was closed. I did not ring the bell, but opened
the door and stepped into the reception room.

The room was empty except for the uniformed policeman sitting at the
radio bank on the other side of the railing with his back to me. He wore
earphones.

As the door clicked shut, the policeman turned in his swivel chair to
face me.

"Hello, Langston, we've been expecting you," he said.

It was Isaac Grogan.

I smiled and replied with calmness that amazed me:

"Yes, I daresay you have, Zan Matl Blekeke."

* * * * *

Maxwell and I were alone in the small, bare, brightly lighted but
windowless room.

Blekeke had spent a half-hour after my arrival trying to find out how
much I knew. But after my initial shocker--letting him know that I
recognized him--I had