Marshall told him.

"The thing is," said Lang, "whatever weapon or machine this boy is using, it's something that the government knows absolutely nothing about. We've sent up a report on the effects of this thing, whatever it is, and there's been the damnedest complete survey of current government research projects you can imagine. There is nothing at all like it even on the drawing boards."

"Whatever the boy is using," said Marshall, "and wherever he got it from, it isn't a part of the government's arsenal of weapons."

"Which it has to be," Lang added. "Can you imagine a weapon that selectively increases or decreases the temperature of any specific object or any specific part of an object? From a distance? I wouldn't like to be sitting on a stockpile of hydrogen warheads with somebody aiming that weapon at me. He simply presses the 'hot' button, and blooey!"

"You see a jet bomber coming," said Marshall. "You point the weapon, press the 'cold' button, and flame-out. That pilot bought the farm."

"What I'd like to know," said Lang, "is where he got his hands on this thing in the first place. Not only is there no machine or weapon we know of which can do this sort of thing, but our tame experts assure us that no such machine or weapon is possible."

"Great," said Stevenson. "We're looking for a ten-year-old kid armed with a weapon that no adult in the country could even imagine as possible."

The phone rang at that point, and for a second no one moved. They all sat and looked at the jangling phone. Then Marshall and Lang moved simultaneously, but it was Marshall who answered. "Marshall here."

The others watched him, heard him say, "Yes, Miss English. Right." And reach forward on the desk for pad and pencil. "Right, got it. You're sure that's the one? Right. Thank you very much."

Marshall cradled the phone, and looked at the others. "The woman came in. Her name is Mrs. Albert J. Clayhorn, and she lives on Newkirk Avenue. Miss English said the number would be near East 17th."

"Five blocks from the bank," said Stevenson.

"And about eighty blocks from Higgins' house," said Roberts. "That's why it took him so long to go to work that time. He saw what was happening on television, grabbed his weapon and his trusty bike and went riding out to 

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