eyes flashed. She could guess how I felt about that.

"Come along," I said to her, and went into my office.

"Hi, Gyp," Fred Plaice greeted me, grinning. "Got a present for you." He
gave his prisoner a shove, making him stumble a couple steps toward me.
The telepath was a stoop-shouldered balding gent with large feet. He
certainly didn't look like a walking bubonic plague, but then, they
never do. Instinctively I closed my thoughts to him.

"What's this snake doing here, Fred?" I asked my Section Chief quietly.

He flushed. He knew my policies. "What did you expect me to do with
him?" he said hotly. "This isn't some common snake we picked up out in
the country. We snagged this viper right here in Washington, Gyp! I
suppose I should have spirited him out of town on the midnight jet!"

"Yes," I said. "That would have been my idea. Do you realize that all
this publicity has gotten us a mob of five hundred people around our
doors, a mob that's waiting to lynch this prisoner of yours?"

The man gulped and started to say something, but Fred hit him hard
between the shoulder blades. "Shut up," he said. "Nobody cares what you
think." He walked up close to me. "Sure I know there's a mob down
there," he said. "And I know why they're there. Plain scared to death of
what it means to have had a telepath loose in Washington. You're wrong
to hustle this guy out of town, Gyp. Look at this pathetic case--does he
look like a superman?"

I looked at the snake. "No," I agreed. "He looks like they roped him
somewhere in West Virginia a few months ago, put shoes on him, and
brought him to town."

"Right," Fred snapped. "Let the mob get a look at him. The contrast of
you dragging him along by the ear and him stumbling along behind you is
the sort of thing the public laps up. It'll put you right in the
driver's seat."

"I thought Congress had already done that," I reminded him coldly. No
bureaucrat could want powers more absolute than mine. "Unfortunately," I
growled at him. "I gave orders that no snakes were to be brought into
this building without my prior consent. This ineffective-looking
hill-billy has possibly read a thousand minds since you dragged him in
here. How much of what he has picked up around here this morning will be
peeped by some Russian telepath before you get him out of town?"

"Relax," Fred scoffed. "He's a short-range punk."

That was too much. "I'll do my own thinking, Fred," I said. "From now
on, you follow