"Not a chance," Governor Willoughby had joined them. "It would mean your career, general. Even the President couldn't protect you."

"Clarens is out there," Mosby argued, pointing out the window overlooking the city. "Did you see that little girl?"

"No, but I heard about it. And I saw the man," the governor answered.

"I was there," said Thornberry abruptly. "Will you gentlemen let me, _just_ me, alone with Judkins for five minutes?"

All four of them, the two generals, the police chief, the governor, stared at the psychologist.

"Yes," Bennington decided for the group. "We will."

_Doughboy...._

Bennington stopped after his first step back into the room, was jostled by Mosby following closely behind. He moved forward to where he could see both Judkins and Thornberry.

The hypno-tech sat bolt upright, his face like that of a newly-conditioned prisoner, completely blank.

Thornberry's face radiated pride.

"These technicians are all alike," the psychologist sniffed. "Their work makes them especially sensitive to hypnosis."

Bennington looked at Judkins, then back to Thornberry. "You mean...."

"I mean that I can ask Judkins anything we want to know and he'll give a truthful answer." Another sniff. "I've forgotten more about hypnosis than he'll ever know."

"This won't hold in a court," Chief Scott warned.

"But it may save a life, maybe more than one," Bennington answered.

"Thornberry, you did a good job of those guards. You question Judkins."

"Wait a minute," General Mosby said. "How fast can we get a tape recorder?"

"Why waste time?" asked Bennington. "You can't use this in court."

"h.e.l.l, Jim, stop thinking about courts-martial; there's more than _one_ court. Let's fry these boys in the court of public opinion. The news services aren't bound by the rules of evidence. We can worry about other courts later."

"I can get you a tape recorder in two minutes," Scott stated. "Our patrol boys always carry them to take statements at accidents, before the victims get over their shock enough to start lying. And we keep one in the office, too."

Thornberry looked at Judkins and a self-satisfied smirk crept over his face. "No need to worry about lies from this one."

Judkins spoke in a low monotone not much louder than the soft hiss of the machine recording his words. Question by question--in Judkins'

condition, each query had to be specific, Thornberry said--the pattern emerged.

Basing his request on his position as a member of the prison commission, Senator Giles had invited Judkins to lunch with him. The senator, however, despite his statement that he wanted only to be sure that Duncannon was getting the best personnel, had not confined his questions to Judkins' background.

Was the hypno-tech alone when he conditioned the men? Any set statement to be made? Could Judkins add to the instructions given each convict without the knowledge of the prison authorities?

The following day, both Senator Giles and Representative Culpepper had called upon Judkins at his sister-in-law's home. Bluntly, they offered ten thousand dollars if the technician could guarantee that Rooney would never be able to talk about the income tax racket.

When Judkins had explained that any conditioning he could give would be as easily removed by another tech, the two men had gone into a corner and consulted in whispers.

They had emerged from the corner with this offer: First, they would bargain with the new warden to get Rooney a job as a trusty. If that failed they offered Judkins twenty thousand dollars and a hideout in New York--until they could set him up outside the country--if he would condition a group of prisoners to riot and discredit Bennington immediately.

"What Rooney must be sitting on!" Mosby murmured in Bennington's ear.

"Was sitting on," Bennington said bitterly. "He was the fat belly with Dalton and Clarens, the one who didn't make it."

The story flowed on under Thornberry's skillful questioning.

At noon yesterday, a frightened and angry Giles had called Judkins, had boosted the bribe to thirty thousand and demanded immediate action.

"What did you tell the prisoners?" Thornberry's voice was as even as Judkins'.

"I was their friend and their only friend; every one else was their enemy. I told them they must be quiet and obey all orders until the last man received his coffee in the mess hall. They were then to throw their trays at the people around them. I told them where to go for guns. I told them that then they would forget all that I had said, that they would know how to take care of their enemies."

"Gentlemen, do you realize what this means, in terms of the const.i.tutional psychopathic inferior? I refer to Clarens, not Dalton.

Dalton reacted as Judkins directed, including to forget that he had been told everyone was his enemy. Dalton, we know from his record, actually disliked to use weapons even as a threat.

"But we can be sure that Clarens has not forgotten."

"Why not?" Mosby demanded.

"Because the instructions he received only intensified what he himself believed before Judkins worked on him. As soon as he had a chance he looked for his kind of weapons. How he got her there, we won't know until we catch him, but note that he killed the little girl in the equivalent of a cavern.

"And the man in the park, that, too, took place in what was necessarily an almost secret spot.

"Those orders Judkins gave, we _know_ Clarens is still responding to them...."

Thornberry hesitated a moment, then completed his thought. "And so we must intensify our patrols on the darker streets. With this poor boy believing that every man's hand is turned against him, he is now looking for some dark place in which to feel safe. He is in essence retreating to the foetus--"

"Sounds good, but tell me the rest later, Doc."

"General Mosby, you and I want to call our roving patrols," and Scott headed for the door, Mosby right behind him.

"By the way, Doc," the chief called back over his shoulder, "when you're done with that guy, just tell one of my men. We've got a special, reserved, very solitary cell for him."

More slowly, Bennington followed Scott and Mosby.

The area of the hunt had perhaps been narrowed. Their quarry--the beast with steel knives for talons--would be found in a dark, deserted place.