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no need for introductions, so—"

    "I disagree," said Kent, determined to show some spunk if only verbally. "Mr. Byers I've met, but the young lady I've only admired from afar. And as for you, General Preston, I know who you are, but I don't know you in your present role. Do they give out medals these days for shooting piano players?"

    Preston chuckled. "Good boy! I admire brashness in the face of danger. You might have made a decent soldier, Lindstrom, if this sick land of ours didn't regard 'decent soldier' as a contradictory term. To save argument I'll go along with your pretense of ignorance. The young lady's name is Peggy Blodget, of course.

    "As for myself—I assume you are also pretending ignorance of my political views?"

    "It's no pretense," said Kent. "Politics bore me."

    "Very well. Since the collapse of communism, this once great nation of ours has gone to pot, Lindstrom." The general's eyes glittered. "We're giving away our unmatched wealth to good-for-nothing loafers. We, the greatest power in the world, have gone flabby. We no longer exercise our strength, either diplomatically or militarily. We don't lead by precept. We've turned into a bunch of bleeding-hearts and soft touches. What we don't give away we waste on effeminate living. You're a prime example, boy. A potential fighting man, playing sissy slop on the piano!"

    "What's sissy about the 'Hammer-Klavier'?" Kent flared.

    "Shut up and listen! I'm no man to waste words. I'm a man of action, a man who makes his speeches, but who then goes a step further than the cheap politicians who are ruining our country. I back up my speeches with deeds."

    "Such deeds as shooting sissy piano players?" Kent retorted.

    "Such as eliminating any fool who gets in my way," the general told him grimly. "And you, interfering with our Miss Blodget here, were doing exactly that."

    Kent shrugged. "But what can you gain from doing things like that, and stealing secret weapons, general? A man like you! What are you after?"

    Preston stared at him. "I'm after this nation's salvation, boy. That can be won only if my friends and myself assume top leadership, preferably with the support of the public, but without it if the public prefers to remain asleep."

    "Dictatorship, huh?" muttered Kent, and then he rushed on before the general had time to blow his top: "But how does Miss Blodget figure in this? She doesn't look the type."

    "Miss Blodget, as you well know, has a special talent," said the general. "And she was favorably impressed by my speeches. Thus, when she realized the patriotic thing for her to do was to offer her talent to her country, she came to me." He turned and gazed at the young woman, then added, "Unfortunately, Miss Blodget's patriotism lacks realism. She is slow to convince that to make an omelet, eggs must be broken. So she attempted desertion, first without and later with your assistance."

    "What's this talent of hers?" asked Kent.

    General Preston fidgeted impatiently. "I'm getting tired of this game!" he snapped. "We will waste no more time telling you things you've known for months."

    The girl spoke for the first time. "I'm a telepath, Kent. That makes me useful to the general when I'm within my eighty-yard range of the United Nations, or the White House, or the Pentagon. Of course, he doesn't get my help willingly."

    "Shut up!" bellowed Preston. "You answer my questions, nobody else's!" He glared at Kent. "When I sought to eliminate you, boy, it was because you were in my way. But I can use you alive now. Miss Blodget is sentimental about her home town—Los Angeles. That was the major present purpose of our arms cache there. I had to pose a very real, very serious threat to the peace of her city, to bring her to terms and win her cooperation. Since she's telepathic, she can't be bluffed.

    "Now, thanks to you, that threat and our most important supply of weapons has been stolen from us. And you've earned yourself a new job! You, boy, are my