For the time being the enemy appeared to cease attempts to do the boys physical harm. But the enemy had not given up. Phil received a frantic call from one of the younger boys to come at once to the tent the boy lived in; his patrol leader was very sick. Phil found the lad in a state of hysteria, and being restrained from doing himself an injury by the other boys in the tent. He had tried to cut his throat with his jack knife and had gone berserk when one of the other boys had grabbed his hand.
Phil took in the situation quickly and put in a call to Ben.
—”Ben! Come at once. I need you.” Ben did so, zipping through the air and flying in through the door of the tent almost before Phil had time to lay the boy on his cot and start forcing him into a trance. The lad’s startled tent mates did not have time to decide that Dr. Ben had been flying before he was standing in a normal fashion alongside their councilor.
Ben greeted him with tight communication, shutting the boys out of the circuit.—”What’s up?”
—”They’ve gotten to him . . . and damn near wrecked him.”
—”How?”
—”Preyed on his mind. Tried to make him suicide—But I tranced back the hookup. Who do you think tried to do him in?—Brinckley!”
—”No!”
—”Definitely. You take over here; I’m going after Brinckley. Tell the Senior to have a watch put on all the boys who have been trained to be sensitive to telepathy. I’m afraid that any of them may be gotten at before we can teach them how to defend themselves.” With that he was gone, leaving the boys half convinced of levitation.
He had not gone very far, was still gathering speed, when he heard a welcome voice in his head, —”Phil! Phil! Wait for me.”
He slowed down for a few seconds. A smaller figure flashed alongside his and grasped his hand. “It’s a good thing I stay hooked in with you two. You’d have gone off to tackle that dirty old so-and-so without me.”
He tried to maintain his dignity. “If I had thought that you should be along on this job, I’d have called you, Joan.”
“Nonsense! And also fiddlesticks! You might get hurt, tackling him all alone. Besides, I’m going to push him into the tar pits.”
He sighed and gave up. “Joan, my dear, you are a bloodthirsty wench with ten thousand incarnations to go before you reach beatitude.”.”I don’t want to reach beatitude; I want to do old Brinckley in.”
“Come along, then. Let’s make some speed.”
They were south of the Tehachapi by now and rapidly approaching Los Angeles. They flitted over the Sierra Madre range, shot across San Fernando Valley, clipped the top of Mount Hollywood, and landed on the lawn of the President’s Residence at Western University.
Brinckley saw, or felt, them coming and tried to run for it, but Phil grappled with him.
He shot one thought to Joan.—”You stay out of this, kid, unless I yell for help.”
Brinckley did not give up easily. His mind reached out and tried to engulf Phil’s. Huxley felt himself slipping, giving way before the evil onslaught. It seemed as though he were being dragged down, drowned, in filthy quicksand.
But he steadied himself and fought back.
When Phil had finished that which was immediately necessary with Brinckley, he stood up and wiped his hands, as if to cleanse himself of the spiritual slime he had embraced. “Let’s get going,” he said to Joan, “we’re pushed for time.”
“What did you do to him, Phil?” She stared with fascinated disgust at the thing on the ground.
“Little enough. I placed him in stasis. I’ve got to save him for use—for a time. Up you go, girl. Out of here—before we’re noticed.”
Up they shot, with Brinckley’s body swept along behind by tight telekinetic bond. They stopped above the clouds. Brinckley floated beside them, starfished eyes popping, mouth loose, his smooth pink face expressionless.
—”Ben!” Huxley was sending, “Ephraim Howe! Ambrose! To me! To me! Hurry!”
—”Coming, Phil!” came Coburn’s answer.
—”I hear.” The strong calm thought held the quality of the Senior. “What is it, son? Tell me.”