ainst what?"

"You're impossible," she snapped. "I'll take care of the precaution
department myself. And don't you dare let Fred get that woman in here
until I get back."

"No what...?"

"Joseph Tinker!" she cried. "Be quiet!" She stormed out.

* * * * *

In about twenty minutes the buzzer on my pix-box sounded, and I
depressed the key. Anita's face was tense on the small screen.

"Just got a flash," she said. "Fred has her in his 'copter and will let
down on the roof in about four or five minutes. I'll need a couple
minutes more than that. Now don't you let him in with her before I get
there, do you hear me?"

I said I heard her. She beat Fred at that. For all I know she had
booby-trapped them in getting down from the roof. Anita has drag with
everybody in the building, and that could have included the elevator
service man, who quite easily could have loused service to the roof
enough to delay Fred.

Anita came in. "Mr. Tinker," she said crisply. "Meet Tony Carlucci."

I stood up. Tony was a darned good-looking chap, about my age, with very
dark hair, somewhat curly, and a flash of white teeth for a smile. I
told him I was pleased to meet him.

"Move over," Anita directed, stepping smartly around my desk and giving
my elbow a sharp yank. "You sit behind the desk, Tony. Now try to look
like a big wheel, for heaven's sake."

"I _am_ a big wheel," Tony protested. "In the used 'copter racket."

Anita was already reaching up to push down on my shoulders. "Won't you
sit down?" she demanded. She had me in one of the comfortable chairs I
have in my office for callers, rather off to one side. She put herself
down in the chair across my desk from Tony Carlucci, as though she were
getting instructions.

He didn't need much hinting. "Tell the bulls we're gonna clean up the
District," he started, waving his hands around. "No more poker. No more
dice. No more Sneaky Pete." I'd never heard of that.

"Shut up!" Anita said. "He'll be here any instant."

Fred was as good as her word. He was holding the door for his telepath
within seconds. Tony Carlucci stopped hamming it up and straightened
importantly in my chair. I had to admit that Anita had found a guy who,
superficially, resembled me more than a little. No one who knew either
of us would ever mistake one for the other, but our general descriptions
were quite similar.

The woman who came in not only was a gypsy, she was dressed as