e ones. Of
course, these must be the ones raised in the first special school the
government had set up. They said old Leffingwell, the guy who invented
the shots, was running it himself. Sort of experimenting to see how
this new crop of kids would make out....

It was when Harry learned about the school that he knew what he must
do.

And if nobody else would help him, he'd act on his own. There might
not be any help from organized society, but he still had disorganized
society to turn to.

* * * * *

He spent the next two years and the last of his money finding a way.
The pattern of criminality had changed, too, and it was no easy matter
to find the assistance he needed. About the only group crime still
flourishing was hijacking; it took him a long while to locate a small
under-cover outfit which operated around St. Louie and arrange to
obtain a helicopter and pilot. Getting hold of the rifle was still
more difficult, but he managed. And by the time everything was
assembled, he'd found out what he needed to know about Dr. Leffingwell
and his school.

As he'd suspected, the school was located in the old canyon, right in
the same buildings which had once served as experimental units. How
many youngsters were there, Harry didn't know. Maybe Manschoff was
still on the staff, and maybe they'd brought in a whole new staff.
These things didn't matter. What mattered was that Leffingwell was on
the premises. And a man who knew his way about, a man who worked alone
and to a single purpose, could reach him.

Thus it was that Harry Collins crouched behind the boulder that bright
May morning and waited for Dr. Leffingwell to appear. The helicopter
had dropped him at the upper end of the canyon the day before, giving
him a chance to reconnoitre and familiarize himself with the terrain
once again. He'd located Leffingwell's quarters, even seen the man
through one of the lower windows. Harry had no trouble recognizing
him; the face was only too familiar from a thousand 'casts viewed on a
thousand screens. Inevitably, some time today, he'd emerge from the
building. And when he did, Harry would be waiting.

He shifted behind the rocks and stretched his legs. Twelve years had
passed, and now he'd come full circle. The whole business had started
here, and here it must end. That was simple justice.

_And it is justice_, Harry told himself. _It's not revenge._ Because
there'd be no point to revenge;