“That crowd that was just taken in won’t be finished for a couple of hours,” a voice was saying.  “I don’t know how much they’ll be able to tell; the psychists say they’re all telling about the same stories.  What those stories are, of course, I’m not able to repeat.  After the trouble caused by a certain news commentator who shall be nameless—­he’s not connected with this news service, I’m happy to say—­we’re all leaning over backward to keep from breaking Paratime Police security.

“One thing; shortly after the arrival of the second ship from Police Terminal—­and believe me, that ship came in just in the nick of time!—­the dead Abzar city which the criminals were using as their main base for this time line, and from which they launched the air attack against us, was located, and now word has come in that it is entirely in the hands of the Paratime Police.  Personally, I doubt if a great deal of information has been gotten from any prisoners taken there.  The lengths to which this Organization went to keep their own people in ignorance is simply unbelievable.”

A man appeared for a moment in the lighted doorway of the shed, then stepped outside.

“Look!” Dalla cried.  “There’s Vall!”

“There’s Assistant Verkan, now,” the commentator agreed.  “Chief’s Assistant, would you mind saying a few words, here?  I know you’re a busy man, sir, but you are also the public hero of Home Time Line, and everybody will be glad if you say something to them—­”

* * * * *

Tortha Karf sealed the door of the apartment behind them, then activated one of the robot servants and sent it gliding out of the room for drinks.  Verkan Vall took off his belt and holster and laid them aside, then dropped into a deep chair with a sigh of relief.  Dalla advanced to the middle of the room and stood looking about in surprised delight.

“Didn’t expect this, from the mess outside?” Vall asked.  “You know, you really are on the paracops, now.  Nobody off the Force knows about this hideout of the Chief’s.”

“You’d better find a place like this, too,” Tortha Karf advised.  “From now on, you’ll have about as much privacy at that apartment in Turquoise Towers as you’d enjoy on the stage of Dhergabar Opera House.”

“Just what is my new position?” Vall asked, hunting his cigarette case out of his tunic.  “Duplicate Chief of Paratime Police?”

* * * * *

The robot came back with three tall glasses and a refrigerated decanter on its top.  It stopped in front of Tortha Karf and slewed around on its treads; he filled a glass and sent it to the chair where Dalla had seated herself; when she got a drink, she sent it to Vall.  Vall sent if back to Tortha Karf, who turned it off.

“No; you have the modifier in the wrong place.  You’re Chief of Duplicate Paratime Police.  You take the setup you have now, and expand it; continue the present lines of investigation, and be ready to exploit anything new that comes up.  You won’t bother with any of this routine flying-saucer-scare stuff; just handle the Organization business.  That’ll keep you busy for a long time, I’m afraid.”