were cops coming. Two
black paragrav-boats whirred along the translucent underside of
Newyork's anti-missile force-shield, the Shell.

_Old cybrain better be fast. Damn fast!_

The cybrain jolted an impulse through his spine. Lane somersaulted.
Cybrain had taken charge of his motor nerves. Lane's own mind was just
along for the ride.

* * * * *

His body snapped into a stiff dive position. He began to plummet down,
picking up speed. His mailed hands glittered like arrowheads out in
front. They pointed to a particular window in one of the towers. A
predatory excitement rippled through him as he sailed down through the
air. It was like going into battle again. A little red-white-and-green
flag fluttered on a staff below the window. Whose flag? The city flag
was orange and blue. He shrugged away the problem. Cybrain knew what it
was doing.

The little finger of his right hand vibrated in its metal sheath. A pale
vibray leaped from the lensed fingertip. Breakthrough! The glasstic
pane dissolved. Lane streamed through the window.

The paragrav-paks cut off. Lane dropped lightly to the floor, inside the
room, in battle-crouch. A 3V set was yammering. A girl screamed. Lane's
hand shot out automatically. A finger vibrated. Out of the corner of his
eye, Lane saw the girl fold to the floor. There was no one else in the
room. Lane, still in a crouch, chewed his lip.

_The Mayor?_

His head swung around and he peered at the 3V set. He saw his own face.

"Lashing police with his vibray," said the announcer, "Lane broke
through the cordon surrounding Manhattan Armory. Two policemen were
killed, four others seriously injured. Tammany Hall has warned that this
man is extremely dangerous. Citizens are cautioned to keep clear of him.
Lane is an insane killer. He is armed with the latest military weapons.
A built-in electronic brain controls his reflexes--"

"At ease with that jazz," said Lane, and a sheathed finger snapped out.
There was a loud bang. The 3V screen dissolved into a puddle of
glasstic.

_The Mayor._

Lane strode to the window. The two police boats were hovering above the
towers. Lane's mailed hand snapped open a pouch at his belt. He flipped
a fist-sized cube to the floor.

The force-bomb "exploded"--swelled or inflated, really, but with the
speed of a blast. Lane glanced out the window. A section of the energy
globe bellied out from above. It shaded the view from his window