Cronus of the D. F. C.
"It's hard to believe that Mike would want to harm me. But if you think it's important...."

"I do. Will you call your aunt, now, and make the arrangements? I'll take you over tonight."

She packed some things, and I took her to Newark in an aircab. Her aunt was hospitable and cooperative, albeit a little confused. I checked her apartment thoroughly. I was taking no chances that the aunt's living room could be the potential scene of the crime. It wasn't—no similarity.

"Promise me," I said, "that you won't go back to your apartment for any reason until I tell you it's all right."

"I promise. But I may need some more things."

"Make a list, and I'll have a police woman pick them up for you."

"All right."

I arranged with the superintendent of her apartment building to have the lights in her apartment turned on each evening, and turned off at an appropriate time. I put a stakeout on her apartment building, and on her aunt's. I got a detective assigned to shadow her, though she didn't know it, of course. Then it was zero to five days, and I was quietly going nuts.

Zero to four days. I walked into the D. F. C. room, and Walker swarmed all over me. "I found it again," he said.

"Anything new?"

"No. Just the same thing. Exactly the same."

"When?"

"Two to three days."

I sat down wearily, and stared at Cronus. The screen was blank. "How did you manage to invent that thing?" I said.

"I didn't really invent it. I just—discovered it. I was tinkering with a TV set, and I changed some circuits and added a lot of gadgets, just for the hell of it. The pictures I got were darned poor, but they didn't seem to be coming from any known station—or combination of stations, since they kept changing. That was interesting, so I kept working on it. Then one day the screen showed me a big aircar smashup. There were about ten units involved, and I told myself, 
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