eportation
involved overcoming your own mental resistance to the idea."

"True," Sir Kenneth said. "Quite true. Then let us say that it
requires enormous power to effect these changes. What is our next
step, Mr. Malone?"

"Next, Sir Kenneth," Malone said, "We have to do a little supposing.
This project must be handled by a fairly large group, since no
individual can work it. This large group has to be telepathic, and not
only for the precise timing O'Connor specified."

"There is another reason?" Sir Kenneth said.

"There is," Malone said. "They've also got to know exactly when to
make their victim change his mind. Right?"

"Absolutely," said Sir Kenneth. "Now, Sirrah, where does all this
leave us? We have had the orderly presentation of the case; where,
Sirrah, is your summation?"

"Coming up," Malone said. "We've got to look for a widespread
organization of telepaths, with enough mental discipline to hold a
mental shield that Her Majesty can't crack, and can't even recognize
the existence of. We thought she'd found all the telepaths. She said
so, and she obviously thought so. But she didn't. These are strong,
trained--and sane."

"Aha," said Sir Kenneth.

"Her Majesty," Malone said, "found us only the crazy telepaths, the
weak ones, the nuts."

"Fine," said Sir Kenneth. "And this, Mr. Malone, leaves us with only
one question. Her Majesty--may God bless her--stated that she first
spotted these flashes of telepathic static by listening in on our
minds."

"Our mind," Malone said. "I hope."

"Very well," Sir Kenneth said. "This means that some force is being
directed in this way, toward us. And how do we know that all the
deduction, all the careful case-building we have done, hasn't been
influenced by this group? That might mean, of course, that we are
miles, or even light-years, from the solution."

Malone said: "Yeep." The sound was echoed by Sir Kenneth, and the two
halves of the coruscating mind of Kenneth J. Malone were once more
one.

_Your Majesty,_ the minds thought, _I'd like to talk to you._

Nothing happened. Evidently, Her Majesty was temporarily out of mental
contact with him.

"Hell," Malone said. "Not to mention od's blood." He flipped on the
visiphone and dialed Yucca Flats.

The figure that appeared on the screen was that of a tall,
solidly-built man with a red face and the uniform of a Beefeater. This
Tower Warder had the British royal crest embroidered on his chest, and
the lette