Alexander Key & by Alexander Key
Return from Witch Mountain
    Based on Walt Disney Productions' motion picture screenplay
    written by Malcolm Marmorstein and retold by Marlin Mellett
    based on characters created by Alexander Key

    To the many fans of Tony and Tia

    Chapter 1: Venture
    Chapter 2: Mind Control
    Chapter 3: Search
    Chapter 4: Slave
    Chapter 5: Gold Rush
    Chapter 6: Utter Madness
    Chapter 7: Chase
    Chapter 8: Trap
    Chapter 9: Mission for Alfred
    Chapter 10: Mission in Progress
    Chapter 11: Plutonium
    Chapter 12: Red Alert
    Chapter 13: Furnace Room
    Chapter 14: Turnabout

Chapter 1: Venture
    The strange, unearthly whine pierced the stillness of the blue morning sky. From behind the tall grey mountains in the east, a shimmering silver disc rose gracefully into the air and, dropping to a low altitude, raced effortlessly across the flat open countryside. It streaked along at a breath-taking rate and, as it drew near the city, a flashing band of light showed clearly around its rim. The eerie high-pitched noise gradually grew louder until, as the shining craft approached the huge oval Rose Bowl football stadium, it began to cut its speed.
    With motors winding down, the gleaming saucer came to a halt above the deserted stadium, hovering directly over the centre of the field. It remained suspended there for a few seconds, like a mysterious chandelier hanging inside some great glass-roofed hall. Then slowly, gently, it began to descend in a perfectly straight line to within a few feet of the ground.
    Uncle Bené, a very accomplished pilot in spite of his years and snowy beard, set their craft down neatly and exactly on the fifty-yard line of the empty Rose Bowl. Then, smiling like a diminutive Santa Claus, he touched the button that opened the cabin portal.
    “Here we are, folks!” he announced.
    Suddenly, a wide beam of light shot from beneath the craft and three figures materialized inside it. They were softly transported to the short grass of the football field.
    At first, the dazzling ray concealed its cargo from view, but as they stepped from the beam, it became clear that the figures were human. There was a girl, a boy and a man. The youngsters were each carrying light suitcases and, as they moved away from the landing-point, they looked with interest around the stadium.
    “Nice landing, Uncle Bené,” complimented the girl, whose name was Tia.
    “You should have gone for a touchdown,” joked her brother Tony.
    The wide, bearded face of the youngsters’ uncle split into a grin. “Next time I’ll put it right between the goalposts,” he said. Then, motioning with his big hands, he ushered his two charges towards the edge of the field. Tia, twelve years old and two years younger than her brother, was an attractive girl with an open, intelligent face, a fine spray of freckles and long flaxen hair which fell almost to her waist. She wore a smart red suit, made up of a jacket, waistcoat and culottes. Her clear, bright eyes betrayed a lively sense of humour, tempered by a sound level-headedness. In contrast, Tony had a more impish look about him: fresh-faced, with an upturned nose and longish brown hair. His casual trousers and short zipper jacket reflected a more impulsive nature than his sister.
    Tony and his sister Tia scrambled out quickly with their bags. Uncle Bené followed, and they started along the edge of the field to the gate.
    As the group passed from the field, they found their way through one of the aisles that led between the stands and entered one of the concrete passages that would eventually bring them to the main gates. The deserted corridors echoed to the sound of their footsteps.
    “I can’t wait to see the museums and go to the concerts,” said Tia.
    Uncle Bené nodded and smiled to himself. He knew that this trip for Tia and Tony was long overdue, and that they both stood to benefit greatly from it. Everyone had been so busy learning to use abilities they didn’t know they possessed and establishing the community, helping their people build up their new community on Witch Mountain that neither of the youngsters had had the opportunity to see what life in a big city was all about. Which was why this brief educational visit had finally been arranged for them. After all their work at home, Uncle Bené had arranged this as a sort of vacation.
    Tony, however, was concerned that their excursion might turn out to be somewhat dull. Museums and concerts were a little too educational for his liking, Tony wished they had gone to the beach instead or even stayed home at Witch Mountain. “I’d rather go to the beach and learn how to surf,” he said wryly. He had no way of knowing that the next few days were to produce more excitement than even he could handle.
    Tia moved eagerly, pale hair flying, dark eyes bright, for ahead was all the excitement of a glittering new city to explore. But Tony, who had the often worrisome gift of being able to see things before they happened, had sudden misgivings. There was excitement ahead, surely. And there was also trouble. He could feel it coming.
    As they,.
    Tony could never forget those terrible days when, as refugees from a beautiful world now destroyed, they had reached this curious planet only to become separated from their people. But for Uncle Bené, they join him at their new home and would never have lived to see their own kind again. The most wonderful part was that Uncle Bené, who they thought had died while trying to save them, had managed to live. It was truly a miracle. And Uncle Bené was the last person on the planet Earth Tony wanted to offend.
    Before either of his companions could muster a reply, the trio approached the gate and found themselves at the main gates. In front of them stood two high, tubular-steel and wire barriers held tightly in place by a huge padlock. Uncle Bené reached out to test them.
    Tony returned to the present as he watched Uncle Bené try to open the gate.
    “Locked,” observed Tony, matter-of-factly. “Come on!”
    But Tony made no effort to move. Save that is, for the effort needed to furrow his brow in a moment’s concentration. What followed after that was startling enough to have sent any innocent onlooker rushing to see a psychiatrist. Exactly as if he had stepped into an invisible elevator, the young boy from Witch Mountain began to rise slowly – and quite deliberately – into the air, suitcase in hand. Using energy in the way he had been taught at Witch Mountain, he rose easily into the air and started to move over the gate. Amazingly, neither Tia nor her uncle appeared to show the least surprise. Rather, Uncle Bené seemed somewhat annoyed. As Tony’s feet reached the level of the top of the gate, his uncle called sharply to him.
    “Tony!” Uncle Bené said sharply. “Come back here!”
    Hovering in space, Tony looked down. “What is it?” he asked, puzzled, coming to a stop.
    “All the way back,” Uncle Bené ordered.
    Tony shrugged. With as little fuss as he had gone up, he came easily down to the ground again.
    “You mustn’t do things like that,” Uncle Bené said worriedly and sternly.
    “Why not?”
    “Because you might frighten someone. Besides, it isn’t wise to draw attention to ourselves. Earth people don’t understand about energizing matter.”
    “We are supposed to be like ordinary Earth kids,” Tia reminded her brother.
    “So,” Uncle Bené went on, “don’t energize unless it’s absolutely necessary,” advised Uncle Bené.
    “But it’s necessary,” Tony argued. “The gates are locked.”
    Uncle Bené shook his head. “Tia...?” he said inquiringly, turning to his young niece. Uncle Bené glanced at Tia and gave a slight nod.
    Tia studied the gate a moment, thought for a moment and then closing her eyes put her extraordinary power to work, focused her attention on the lock. In the past she had been forced to touch a lock and give it a physical jerk before she could open it. But the Witch Mountain way was far better. The mind did it all.
    Immediately, the big rusty padlock began to creak open. The old lock, with sort of a squeak and a groan, unlocked itself, and in no time at all the huge double gates were swinging back to allow the party through. Creaking, the big gate swung open.
    The three of them went through. Once they were on the outside, Tia turned and energized the gate again, re-energized the lock and everything swung back neatly into position, exactly as it was before. Obligingly it closed, and the lock relocked itself. She couldn’t help a quick smile of delight. This was great fun!
    Uncle Bené looked a little happier. True, Tia had utilized the same energizing powers as her brother, but her method had been a far less obvious one. Perhaps, he thought, with practice, the children could learn to live for a while without recourse to their unusual gifts. After all, Earth people enjoyed no such advantages. Uncle Bené said, “If the Earth kids can live here without energizing, perhaps you can too, for a few days.” He put his arms about them, and putting an arm around each of the youngsters’ shoulders, he guided them in the direction of the stadium’s parking lot. they began walking toward the parking area where a shiny new taxi stood waiting.
    On the far side of the empty lot, shining bright as a pin in the morning sunshine, stood a yellow cab, with its motor ticking over. Next to it was the driver. The motor was running, Tony noticed, and the cabbie was pacing irritably up and down, back and forth, stopping occasionally to check his watch or brush a speck of dust from his immaculate vehicle, and shaking his head as if he had been waiting far too long. He seemed more like a racing driver than a cabbie, dressed as he was in a colourful jumpsuit covered with a variety of sewn-on patches. One oblong patch across his left chest pocket had the name Eddie written on it.
    On sighting the three figures emerging from the stadium, at the sudden sight of them the cabbie hopped into his machine taxi, slammed the gear lever into reverse, slammed it in reverse, backed rapidly, and screeched to a stop just in front of them, blocking the way. There was a piercing squeal as he jabbed the accelerator and, with tyres sending up frantic smoke signals, the car leapt backwards across the lot.
    Tia, Tony and Uncle Bené side-stepped just in time as the cab pulled to a screeching halt beside them. Eddie poked his crag-like face out of the window.
    “Hey,” he demanded, “you the party what I’m supposed to pick up?” The words came in a snappy, excited gabble.
    Uncle Bené nodded. “Yes. But just the children,” explained Uncle Bené.
    The cabbie Eddie hopped. jumped out of the cab and opened up the rear door, then snatched the luggage Tony and Tia were carrying. He was a thin, impatient character who wore a jumpsuit with various patches sewed upon it, as if he fancied himself to be more of a race driver than a cabbie.
    “Meter’s runnin’,” he snapped. “Hop in, hop in, hop in!”
    As the children Tia and Tony got inside, moved to comply, Eddie stepped quickly round, opened the taxi trunk and stowed their luggage. “Name’s Eddie,” he continued. “I been waitin’ here forever, for ever. People are supposed to wait for taxis – not taxis for people.”
    “We are exactly on time,” Uncle Bené corrected him.
    “Kind of a strange time an’ place to be makin’ a pickup,” Eddie flung back. “I mean... if you’re here for the next game, it’s in three months!”
    “We have seats on the fifty-yard line,” Uncle Bené said mildly, winking at Tony, with a conspiratorial wink at Tia and Tony.
    Eddie, as if sensing something foreign here, looked him up and down curiously – it was the same look strangers often gave members of the Witch Mountain community. Eddie slammed the trunk closed and studied the bearded stranger for a moment. There was something unusual about this man, but he could not decide quite what it was. He shrugged and got back in to the car. Impatiently he gunned the engine.
    Uncle Bené leant down to hand, gave him a slip of paper, and said, “Take the children to this address. You’ll be paid, they’ll pay you when you arrive.”
    Eddie gave a querulous look. “This is a big fare,” Eddie reminded him and said warily. “If them kids is gonna pay me, I hope they know I get a big tip.”
    “They know,” Uncle Bené assured him, and moved to the back window, turned to Tony and Tia. “Everything has been worked out for you,” he went on and explained to the youngsters. “Stick to the schedule, remember what I told you, and have a wonderful time. I’ll see you Friday.”
    He gave each of them a good-bye kiss through the window, they exchanged goodbyes and Uncle Bené stepped back quickly. He was just in time. The pitch of the cab’s engine changed from a growl to a dull roar as impatient Eddie stabbed the accelerator, sent the taxi forward and the vehicle shot off towards the edge of the parking lot, leaving a smell of scorched rubber in its wake. Uncle Bené had a brief glimpse of a pair of waving hands through the rear window, and then the cab was gone, zooming off along the main highway towards the city.   
    The two youngsters sat back to enjoy the sights. This was going to be a great experience for them – five whole days to be spent exploring and learning about life in a big, exciting Earth city. Even Tony was secretly enthralled by the idea. The journey to the city flashed by.
    In no time at all, the cab found itself weaving a path through the mid-morning traffic that was clogging the city streets. Eddie drove as if his life depended on it – accelerating into narrow gaps, braking hard, doing racing starts away from the traffic lights. Any vehicle that got in the way was treated to a string of insults. “Look at that dummy!” Eddie sounded a long blast on his horn as he all but forced an innocent-looking Volkswagen to mount the sidewalk. “Get outta the way, you dummy.” He shook his head in despair. “These civilians don’t know how to drive. They oughtta be kept off the streets. The streets belong to us professional drivers. Taxis, buses and trucks... that’s all that should be on the streets. I know all there is to know about drivin’. I have a perfect safety record.” He leant on the horn again as a lone pedestrian was foolish enough to try crossing the street at the intersection. “Get off the road, you bum!” shouted Eddie, head out of the window.
    Behind him, Tia and Tony laughed heartily. Their vacation was certainly getting off to a racing start.
    For the next twenty minutes Tony’s attention was divided between Eddie and his wild driving, and the uncertainty that lay ahead. The uncertainty had nothing to do with the concerts, museum visits, and other educational plums with which their vacation was liberally sprinkled. He had a feeling, in fact, that they were going to miss the educational plums entirely. Something was going to happen. And Eddie, he suddenly realized, was part of it.
    For a moment, as he watched Eddie hunched over the wheel, honking the horn and weaving madly in and out of the traffic, he was afraid they might be involved in an accident. For safety’s sake he wondered if he and Tia hadn’t better energize. But before he could mention it to her the taxi whipped around a corner, tires screeching, and all at once the motor began to sputter.
    * * *
    Not more than a few blocks away, another car was gliding to a halt in a deserted side street – a car which was destined to have a far greater effect on the lives of Tia and Tony than the one in which they were now travelling. This vehicle was a sleek black Citroen DS, with dark tinted windows. As it came to a stop by the kerb, the driver’s door clicked open and a tall, angular-faced man with a pock-marked complexion emerged. He moved round to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. A woman stepped out. She was in her mid-sixties, distinctly aristocratic in appearance, with lined, eagle-like features and penetrating eyes. Her clothes were dark and sombre and somewhat dated. Her name was Letha Wedge.
    “Thank you Sickle,” she said in a clipped, cultured voice. But although her tone was imperious, there was something uncomfortable in her manner as she looked up and down the street.
    Meanwhile, Sickle had moved behind her and opened the rear door. Doctor Victor Gannon, a tall, severe-looking man of around fifty, got out. He was wearing a neat, business-like suit and was carrying some sort of compact electronic device in his right hand. His dark eyes were scanning a high building on the opposite side of the street.
    Had Tony been able to see the long black car with the tinted windows that, some minutes earlier, had parked on a side street ahead, he would have felt instantly that there was something sinister about it, and he would have wanted nothing to do with its occupants. But he could see only the falling figure in his mind – a figure that had not yet begun to fall, but surely would in a very short time.
    Earlier, when the black car stopped, its three occupants got out and stood looking speculatively at the tall old structure on either side. They were in a run-down area bordering the slums, and not many of the buildings were occupied.
    The car’s driver, a hard-eyed and muscular young man the others called Sickle, glanced at the woman and said, “How’s this place, Aunt Letha?”
    Letha Wedge peered about uncomfortably and pursed her thin lips. She was one of yesterday’s aristocrats, and her expensive clothing had once been fashionable. Time had lined her still-handsome face and made it eagle-like and predatory. She nodded, and looked at the man beside her.
    “Looks, this seems like the perfect test site,” observed Letha. “Little traffic, and low real estate value. What do you think, Victor?”
    Dr. Victor Gannon, who was not unknown in scientific circles, was studying the tallest building with narrowed, calculating eyes. In his square hands was a compact electronic control unit that he was holding carefully. He grunted, and said shortly and impassively, “It’s adequate.”
    Sickle shifted uneasily. Sickle’s tight mouth twitched nervously. “Then let’s get it over with,” he prompted. He pointed to something behind his ear. It was a small electronic receptor attached to his head. Then, brushing back the hair from his right ear, he asked, “Is this thing all right and on okay?”
    Dr. Gannon bent forward to inspect the tiny electronic receptor unit which was located there. He peered at it closely, tested it with a few taps of his finger, and nodded gravely. “It’s ready,” he confirmed.
    Letha Wedge said, “What do you want him to do this time?” inquired Letha.
    The scientist pointed to the tallest red-brick building – clearly disused – across on the corner of the street. “I want him to climb that fire escape to the absolute top,” he explained.
    Letha Wedge gasped, and Sickle’s mouth came open.
    Sickle raised his hands apprehensively. “Hey, wait a minute,” Sickle protested and muttered. He seemed to have contracted a chill. “This is as high as I go. You want me to break somebody’s leg, just tell me how many pieces. But don’t ask me to climb up there.”
    Dr. Gannon’s eyebrows went up. “Why not?” asked Gannon.
    “Because – I’m afraid of heights. I’ll get dizzy and... fall.”
    “It’s true, Victor,” interjected and hastened to say Letha Wedge. “He has acrophobia, among other things. Find a different test for him.”
    Victor Gannon shrugged and allowed himself the ghost of a smile. He knew that acrophobia wasn’t going to be a problem with his device. “Acrophobia won’t be a problem with my device. Start climbing, Sickle.”
    Sickle, however, was by no means convinced. He began to back slowly away. “I – I’ll do anything else you say, Doctor... but I won’t do that!”
    He began backing away in fright, but Dr. Gannon raised the control unit in his hand and calmly, with an air of complete confidence, suddenly switched it on, flicked a switch on his electronic control unit. Sickle stopped dead in his tracks on the instant. His body went rigid, he snapped rigidly upright, all expression left his face and a strange, vacant stare entering his eyes. He seemed like a man who had been hypnotized in the space of a split-second. More than anything he resembled a dummy in a clothing store window.
    Dr. Gannon smiled. He raised the control unit to his mouth and spoke into it in a slow, commanding tone.“ Sickle,” he began, speaking into the control unit and pointing across the street, “I order, I command you to climb that fire escape. When you reach the top, you will turn and look down. You will not be affected by the height. Go now. Now go.”
    With deliberate, almost mechanical movements, Sickle turned and, moving like a sleepwalker, headed across the street walking towards the fire escape and crossed the street to the building.
    “It’s working!” the Doctor whispered, showing excitement for the first time. “It’s working!” exclaimed Gannon triumphantly.
    “So it seems,” Letha Wedge said uneasily. “But you’re risking his life. He’s my nephew, my only living relative, the only one I can leave my bankruptcy to.”
    Gannon scowled. To him, the experiment was all that mattered. “That’s what experimentation is all about, Letha.” He held up the control unit as though it were a precious jewel. “Can’t you see I’m in complete control of his mind?” he gloated. “He can only carry out my commands. I’ve done it!”
    “But we can’t afford to lose him!”
    “I’m the only one you can’t afford to lose,” the Doctor reminded her, holding up the unit. “Can’t you see I’m in complete control of his mind? He no longer has fear or memory or will. He can only carry out my commands. I’ve done it!” he added triumphantly.
    By this time, Sickle had reached the fire escape and had begun his long climb up the side of the high building. Gannon looked on with the glint of success in his eyes – but Letha Wedge could not bring herself to share his enthusiasm.
    Letha Wedge clenched her long bony hands. Why did Victor have to be so coldly calculating? It was a frightening side of him. But she needed him and would have to go along with what he did.
    * * *
    Meanwhile, Eddie the cab driver had run into a different kind of problem. Turning left off the main street in order to take a short cut across town, he had put his foot down hard, trying to beat a set of traffic lights at the next intersection. That was when his engine had started to splutter and cut out. An expression of pure disbelief came across his face.
    “W-what’s that?” Eddie cried, shocked. “What’s happening?” After all, how could there possibly be anything wrong with a vehicle driven and serviced by the world’s finest cab driver?
    In the back seat, Tony was already concentrating on the problem. Probing the car’s engine with his amazing mental powers, he soon came up with the answer. “You’re out of gas,” Tony informed and reported him, after concentrating quickly on the motor.
    “What, are you – crazy?” retorted Eddie. “Look at the gas gauge. It’s – it points to... to...” His face fell. The tell-tale needle clearly indicated an empty tank. Eddie gulped, then gave a despairing groan. “Empty!”
    With the engine starved of fuel and motor completely dead, the taxi-cab coasted silently to a stop at the curb and by the kerb. They all got out, and Eddie took a gas can from the trunk. Eddie groaned and slapped the steering wheel. Jumping out, he dashed round to the trunk and extracted an empty gas can. Then he popped his head into the rear window.
    “It was all that waitin’ I hadda do for you,” he grumbled. “Now I’ll hafta run down the street to the gas station. You’re costin’ me a lotta dough. You sure better make the tip worth it.” Before Tia or Tony could reply, he was speeding off down the street, gas can swinging wildly at his side.
    Tony, frowning, watched Eddie hurry away, the gas can swinging from his hand. Tony shook his head and started to turn back to Tia. The youngsters smiled at each other and settled back for the wait. But suddenly, without warning, both their faces creased into deep frowns. At that moment something flashed through their minds. Both of them reached a hand towards their foreheads. Their super-sensitive minds had simultaneously been afflicted by the same sense of impending danger. They had both been given a fleeting mental glimpse of a frightening image. It was a hazy view of a falling figure – a hazy vision of a figure falling helplessly through space. It was impossible to make out more, as the image disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Tia looked into her brother’s eyes. Each knew the other had seen it. There was a questioning look in Tia’s eyes.
    Even Tia reacted to it, for she said, “What was that?”
    Tony shook his head slowly. Finally, he said, “I – I’m not sure... but something’s going to happen to someone... near here...” His sister nodded. They both knew that their premonition might concern a matter of life and death. Tia touched her brother’s arm.
    “Let’s try to help,” she ventured and said quickly.
    Tony thought for a moment. “You’d better wait for the driver,” he suggested, “I’ll go.” Before his sister had a chance to argue, he had the car door open and was stepping on to the sidewalk.
    He closed his eyes a moment, concentrating, then glanced quickly up and down the street, trying to orientate himself, and started up the street toward the nearest corner.
    “I think it came from over in that direction,” he concluded, indicating a side turning about a hundred yards along the street. Tia had her head out of the window.
    “Hurry back,” she said anxiously.
    Tony smiled tersely and, raising a hand in agreement, hurried off down the street. A moment later he had disappeared around the corner.
    “And remember what Uncle Bené said,” Tia called as he turned the corner.
    * * *
    Letha was looking more agitated than ever. Her hands tightened as she watched Sickle climb steadily up the fire escape. Every movement of his arms and legs was curiously mechanical, as if he had turned into a robot. Sickle had arrived at the top of the fire escape and was now balanced precariously on the ledge, staring vacantly into space. When he reached a high ledge her heart contracted and she said suddenly, “That’s enough! Bring him down, Victor. He has the car keys.”
    Dr. Gannon ignored her. A dozen storeys below, Letha tugged at Gannon’s sleeve, imploring him to bring Sickle down but Gannon brushed her away. He had come out to test his mind-control device to the full – and he would not be satisfied with anything less. He addressed himself to the control unit. “Sickle,” he ordered into the unit and said slowly, “turn to the right... Balance yourself... and walk along the ledge... Now!”
    “No!” pleaded Letha. “Victor – no!” But her protests were to no avail. Still the doctor ignored her. She watched in a sort of horror as her nephew, mechanically obeying instructions, began to walk along the narrow ledge. Like some obedient zombie, Sickle turned and proceeded along the narrow ledge, oblivious to the dizzying height. All at once she could stand it no longer. She whirled and clutched Dr. Gannon’s arm.
    “Stop him!” cried Letha.
    He shook his head. “I won’t stop in the middle of a test,” insisted Gannon, who was too intoxicated with his achievement to heed Letha’s pleas. “I’m going to prove to you the extent to which I can control the human mind.”
    “You’ve already proven it! I believe you. Don’t make him go any farther!”
    “I can make him do anything I want!” the doctor told her, excitement rising in him. “It works perfectly!” he gloated. “I’m in complete control of him! I could have ten men up there—”
    “I’ll bring him down myself!” Letha Wedge cried in desperation. “Give me that!”
    In desperation, Letha made a wild grab for the control unit. She snatched at the control unit. If she succeeded in snatching it away from Gannon, she could bring Sickle down herself. But the doctor held on tightly to the device, he struggled to keep it and a fierce struggle developed. It seemed for a moment as if Letha might wrest it from him, but then the unit slid from both their grasps and went flying through the air. The thing flew out of their hands and fell to the hard paving, throwing up a shower of sparks. It hit the ground in a shower of sparks and a series of protesting bleeps. From it came a beeping signal as a red light began to flash. There was a puff of blue smoke and then silence. High up on the roof, Sickle twitched involuntarily and teetered dangerously on the edge. Then he straightened up again and continued along the ledge as though nothing had happened.
    They scrambled for the unit, and Dr. Gannon managed to snatch it up. Gannon’s face was a mask of fury as he scrambled to pick up his control unit. Frenziedly, he began punching out a sequence of buttons. “Look what you’ve done!” he yelled. “Sickle...” he cried, flicking the switches. “ Sickle, stop!” He thumped the device. “I command you to stop!” he spoke hoarsely into the unit.
    But the human guinea-pig was not responding. Sickle, high above them, paid no attention. When the unit dropped he had seemed momentarily affected, but now he proceeded ahead, moving steadily toward the open end of the ledge. Slowly, deliberately, he was approaching the open end of the ledge.
    Dr. Gannon tried desperately to use the damaged unit, then gave it up and gasped, “He’s out of control!” cried Gannon, his voice a mixture of frustration and panic.
    “Sickle!” Letha Wedge shouted. “Sickle! Go back!” screamed Letha. “Go back!” Unheeding, Sickle walked on. The corner of the ledge drew nearer. Twenty feet, fifteen feet, ten... She stared in horror as the hapless Sickle had reached the point of no return. Without a break and the slightest hesitation in his stride, he walked off the end of the ledge, stepped straight off into space and plunged toward the street.
    Letha squealed, a sob broke from her and she turned quickly away, hands over her face, covering her eyes. Gannon looked on in horror as Sickle plunged silently earthward, like a lifeless manikin.

Chapter 2: Mind Control. The Earthquakes
    Just around the corner of the street, Tony was hurrying up a side street toward another corner when his sharp ears picked up Letha Wedge’s agonized voice ahead. At the same moment he became aware of Tia, who was waiting by the taxi, calling to him telepathically. Tony paused in his stride as his sister’s telepathic voice reached out to him across three blocks.
    ~Tony, have you found it?~ came the anxious question.
    Tony closed his eyes. ~Not yet,~ he called back. ~But I’m very close,~ he replied.
    He began to run. But as he rounded the corner and everything seemed to happen at once he stopped short, looking upward, and saw the silent figure of Sickle plunging downward.
    Sickle was hardly thirty feet from the paving when Tony sighted him, grasped the situation in a flash and reacted with lightning speed. Instinctively and instantly his energizing powers reached out to save the falling man, his mind reached forth and caught Sickle, de-gravitating him. Sickle suddenly came to a halt, as if he had hit a huge invisible pillow. He had been de-gravitated, scant feet from the sidewalk and was hanging suspended in mid-air over the street, still completely unaware what was happening to him.
    Dr. Gannon, watching, was completely aghast. Gannon’s mouth dropped open. “Letha... look!” he exclaimed. “Look! Look!” he cried to Letha Wedge.
    “I can’t,” she replied fearfully.
    “You’ve got to! Tell me I’m seeing what I’m seeing!”
    She refused to turn, so Gannon grabbed her harshly, spun her around and pointed.
    For a moment at the sight of her nephew motionless overhead she was momentarily speechless. She looked as if she had been struck by a thunderbolt. Then eventually, she managed to ask and she said, “Is – is your control unit having some sort of side effect?”
    “It’s not my control. ” the doctor said hoarsely. “It’s that – that – boy!” Gannon pointed incredulously to Tony, who was standing on the opposite corner of the street.
    While the two of them stared, openmouthed, they saw Tony gently energized Sickle, began easing him over to his own side of the street, transported him the remaining few feet to the ground, reaching out to balance him and set him upright.
    “It – it’s miraculous!” Letha Wedge gasped and enthused.
    “There are no miracles,” scoffed Dr. Gannon and informed her. “Only scientific answers for everything.”
    “Then explain what we’ve just seen!”
    Gannon thought for moment, trying to apply his academic brain to the mystifying events he had just witnessed.
    “We’ve seen a force...” he mused, “a force which counteracts the basic physical law of gravity. Counteract it on demand...”
    “What force?” she asked.
    He looked up the street and saw Tony, rigid with concentration. Gannon’s eyes widened.
    “A force that centers around... that boy.”
    “Victor... I don’t know what you’re saying.”
    “I know exactly what I’m saying – and seeing! Molecular mobilization.” Gannon thumped a fist into an open palm. A cruel cold glint flashed briefly in his eye. Then the doctor said softly, coldly, his voice grew much quieter and when he next spoke, an edge of determination had crept into it. “I need that boy,” he said evenly. “I need him desperately!”
    Letha Wedge studied him apprehensively. Her eyes widened. “Now just a minute.”
    The doctor gave her a withering look.
    Letha nodded. She still wasn’t quite sure what Gannon was talking about, but somehow she could sense that her partner’s scientific mind was on the right track. Together, they started across the street towards their quarry.
    When they got there and the two approached Tony, they found him trying to console the disorientated Sickle. Tony had guided Sickle to the paving and now was trying to balance him on his feet. He wasn’t having much success. Gannon waved his arms enthusiastically as he approached.
    “Brilliant!” said Dr. Gannon. “Brilliant!” he beamed.
    The doctor took Sickle firmly in hand by the elbow, saying, “Poor fellow, he’s in shock,” and moved him as if leading him to the car to a position against the wall of the building, just behind Tony who had turned to face the oncoming Letha. Tony’s attention was immediately taken up by a smiling Letha Wedge, who grasped his hand warmly.
    “Young man,” she began in an overbearing, phoney sort of way. “Congratulations on a fantastic – er – whatever it was you did. It was absolutely heroic!” Her rouged lips parted in a huge smile. “You deserve a reward!” She released his hand and began fumbling in her bag, began to rummage in her purse for some money.
    Tony started to decline the offer and shook his head. “I don’t need – I don’t want any...” he began but suddenly could not think of the words he needed to complete the sentence. He was unable to finish. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his right arm. Something stung him in the back and the world began to slide away from him. He found himself opening his eyes very wide, and then shutting them very quickly. He could not understand what was making him do that, nor what caused him, a second later, to topple forward into Letha’s outstretched arms. Even so, in a swift reaction he was able to turn his head and catch a fleeting glimpse of Dr. Gannon stepping away from him, a hypodermic needle in his hand. Then everything went black, and he fell forward into Letha Wedge’s arms. But after that, the problem ceased to matter.
    Behind him, Doctor Victor Gannon stood with a self-satisfied smirk on his face and a hypodermic needle in his right hand.
    * * *
    As Dr. Gannon thrust the hypodermic into Tony’s back, three blocks away, Tia, waiting by the taxi, had a sharp reaction. It was almost as if she, too, had been jabbed with a needle. She winced in pain and clutched her right arm. She knew that something terrible had happened. She had been “tuned in’ to Tony’s mental wavelength and now, much like a blip disappearing from a radar screen, it had gone completely dead. Frantically, she transmitted her thoughts in an effort to re-establish contact.
    ~Tony!~ she called. ~Tony... what happened?~ She waited, fear creeping through her, then called again. ~Where are you? Tony! Tony!~
    But there was no reply. Tia’s heartbeat quickened. Her fear rose, bordering on panic. Her brother must be in trouble, Tony was in trouble – bad trouble. He would need her help. If he couldn’t answer, he must be hurt. She called once more, and forced herself to wait while she listened. But all at once she could stand it no longer, and she scrambled hurriedly out of the taxi, began running in the direction Tony had taken, raced off down the street, following the path Tony had taken only a few minutes earlier. Her sole thought was to find him again, as quickly as possible.
    Had she remained by the taxi a few more seconds, she might have seen Eddie hurrying back with a can of gasoline. But she turned the corner just before the cabbie came into view behind her.
    Tia ran very fast, and her uncanny sense of direction took her to the exact location of Tony’s abduction. But she was five seconds too late. As she rounded the corner of the tall red-brick building where Sickle had fallen, she had no way of knowing that the black limousine pulling away from the opposite kerb contained the unconscious body of her brother. It passed quite close to her as it swept around the corner, but its darkened windows kept the occupants hidden from view. Tia knew that, somehow or other, she had lost Tony. Now there was nothing else to do but retrace her steps and hope that Eddie would help her to search for him.
    Fate, however, decreed otherwise. Several minutes later, sure that she had covered the area where Tony must have been, she hastened back to the spot where the taxi had parked. Eddie had returned to his cab shortly after Tia departed, and, believing the children had cheated him out of a fare, had gassed-up and driven angrily away. As she rounded the corner, Tia arrived just in time to see Eddie driving furiously away and the rear of his cab disappear around the end of the street.
    Tia cried out and ran frantically for a little way until she saw the uselessness of it. Then she stopped, came to a halt on the sidewalk, leaned helplessly against the side of a building, wondering what to do. She and stood still for a long time, looking helplessly around her. Now she’d not only lost Tony, but all her belongings as well.
    Her first concern was Tony. How could she find him? Would it help to go to the police? What could she tell them? If she tried to explain how Tony went over to another street to save a person who was falling from a great height, she could imagine what their reaction would be. For one thing they wouldn’t believe her, and on top of it she would be in for endless questioning. Who were her parents? Where did she live? And of course she couldn’t tell about Witch Mountain, because the quickest and surest way to destroy it would be to let the world know about it.
    In her despair she might have weakened and sought help from the police anyway, except that just talking the way Earth people did was so tiring and difficult. The natural speech of her own people was ultrasonic, and Earth people, with their poor ears, couldn’t even hear it. The most difficult thing she’d ever learned was to talk the way Earth people did, so they could understand her. She envied the easy way Tony had learned.
    Tia wished Uncle Bené had given her the address where the taxi was supposed to have taken them. That would be of some help now, for she knew Tony had it, and the sensible thing would be to go there and wait. But she didn’t know the address, so that was that. And except for Uncle Bené, who must be halfway home by now, there were no Witch Mountain people around, so it wouldn’t do any good to send out a telepathic call for help. Even if Uncle Bené were only a few miles away, he wouldn’t be able to hear her, for his telepathic range was very short.
    Tia closed her eyes and fought back the tears that wanted to come. Somehow she’d find Tony, even if she had to do it alone. Perhaps if she just started walking, following her instincts and calling to Tony every few minutes, he’d hear her in time...
    * * *
    Tia continued her search well into the afternoon. She wandered the streets aimlessly, hoping that she might pick up some telepathic contact with him. But it was not to be. Three hours and countless city blocks later, Tia found herself seated on an upturned crate outside a warehouse, a long way from the street where she had last seen her brother.
    It was a very run-down and depressing part of the city that Tia found herself in late that afternoon. Too exhausted at the moment to go farther, she sat down on a rickety wooden platform beside an abandoned building and tried to ignore the ugliness around her.
    She was tired, depressed and close to tears. What had caused her brother’s strange disappearance? And how was she ever going to find him again? Where could she...
    Again she tried to fight back tears. This time they came, but she brushed them aside fiercely, determined not to be beaten in spite of the way she felt.
    Once more she raised her head, preparing to send forth another and hopefully a stronger call to Tony, but she was suddenly interrupted by racing footsteps and frantic shouting. Her train of thought was rudely interrupted, as a series of shouts rang out from farther along the side of the warehouse.
    Tia looked up. Turning quickly, she saw a group of four boys, all slightly older than herself, running along the edge of the broken pavement, charging towards her, looking as though a typhoon was whipping at their heels. From the looks on their faces, one might have thought their very lives were at stake.
    “Get off the streets!” the first boy yelled as he sped past.
    “Run!” cried the others. “Hide!”
    The last boy, white with fear, managed to gasp, “It’s the Golden Goons! Here they come!” He paused briefly, pointed an unsteady finger up the street, and raced onward.
    They were roughly dressed, and all were slightly older than Tia – but not as old (and certainly nowhere near as big) as the trio of tough-looking youths who were hounding them. As they approached, they waved their arms wildly at Tia and yelled again for her to take cover.
    Now Tia saw a group of larger and much tougher looking boys swing around a corner and come pounding after the first four. In sudden confusion she sprang to her feet. Seeing her, they began to shout in a way that left no doubt in her mind about the sort of treatment she would get if they caught her. Confused, surprised and without really knowing why (perhaps it was a natural reaction), Tia whirled, leapt to her feetj fled in the direction of the smaller boys and raced along with them.
    At the next corner she started to turn left, following two of the smaller boys who were just ahead of her. When the pursued group of youngsters reached the end of the street, they turned left. But they had hardly gone more than a few yards before stopping dead in their tracks. They were shocked to see more of the Golden Goons appear from an alleyway, neatly outflanking them. Ahead of them, two more mean-looking Golden Goons stood shoulder-to-shoulder, barring their way. There was a moment of awful indecision, then the four boys swivelled on their heels and sped off in the other direction, with Tia hard on their heels.
    The chase continued on across the intersection and down a narrow sidestreet, with the longer strides of the Golden Goons slowly beginning to close the gap. They were forced to swing to the right, where a wrecked and abandoned car lay like a squashed bug near the end of the street.
    The car was a trap. Just as they approached it, Tia saw movement behind it and cried out a warning.
    It was the appearance of yet another pair of Goons – from behind a wrecked, abandoned car at the end of the street – that finally trapped the running band of youngsters. Cut off in both directions, they had only one place left to flee: a narrow, unwelcoming alleyway that looked suspiciously like a dead end. There was nothing else for it.
    The frightened four swerved to the right, and raced down a narrow alley just as two more Goons, wearing yellow jackets like the rest, popped up from the wreck and pounded after them.
    The five youngsters ducked into the narrow opening and kept their fingers crossed. Behind them, the walls of the alley echoed to the shouts of their pursuers.
    Tia slid to a halt, as did her companions. The alley, as they had feared, was blind. A high brick wall rose before them, with equally tall fencing on either side. There was no way out.
    Too late Tia realized the alley was a dead end. They were neatly caught, and there was no escape. In desperation, the four boys dived behind a line of garbage cans that ran around the end of the alley, and Tia followed suit. They knew, of course, that they were only delaying the inevitable.
    Seconds later, the fearsome Golden Goons arrived, determined to maintain their reputation as the meanest gang in the district.
    The Goons, seven of them now, slowed to a walk and advanced in a line, ominously. Several carried sticks. One had a knife, and the largest, a heavily built boy who seemed to be the leader, had brass knuckles on either hand. Swaggering, the seven of them moved in for the kill, spreading out to advance on the garbage cans in a long line. There was nowhere to hide save behind the battered garbage cans that filled the end of the alley. The frightened victims, Tia’s companions, already torn and badly bruised from an earlier attack, huddled behind the cans and clung to each other fearfully. “They – they’re gonna finish us!” said the boy nearest to Tia.
    Tia, confused till now, was all at once furious. She heard one of the smaller boys whimper, “We’re gonna be finished!”
    The leader grinned suddenly and spat on his brass knuckles. “Okay, guys, let’s finish ’em!”
    But he reckoned without the help of a young girl from Witch Mountain. She looked quickly around for a weapon. Seeing nothing but the garbage cans, she energized one and sent it rolling toward the advancing line. Without warning, one of the garbage cans suddenly flipped on to its side and began to roll towards the line of Golden Goons. Faster and faster the can spun. Before they had a chance to take evasive action, it was careering into them like a huge bowling ball, struck the line of Goons and rolled through them,  scattering them and dumping them head over heels like a line of wooden bowling pins.
    The four victims, Tia’s friends, were as amazed and surprised as their enemies and aggressors. They could hardly believe their eyes, and looked curiously around them, trying to decide who or what it was that had come to their defense. Finally, their gaze came to rest on Tia, who was looking at the fallen Goons with a knowing smirk on her face. They stared incredulously at Tia, who was standing with clenched hands and outthrust jaw; suddenly they broke into a cheer and cried out their thanks.
    “She must’ve did it!” cried one of the boys. Tia turned her head to find her companions waving gratefully to her. They didn’t understand how this strange girl had managed to pull such an incredible stunt, but they were thankful none the less. Tia, for her part, knew that Uncle Bené wouldn’t have approved, but she couldn’t stand idly by in such a one-sided fight. Now, however, she would have to think of something else, for the Golden Goons were on their feet again, and angrier than ever.
    The confused Goons scrambled to their feet. They were not quite sure what had happened, but they were furious that it had happened to them. Closing in, they began moving forward again, and this time it was easy to see that they were out for blood.
    “Let’s give it to ’em!” growled their leader, smacking a huge fist into his open palm. And once more the Goons moved threateningly forward...
    Tia had hoped they would go away. Fighting was so stupid, and she hated being placed on the defensive. But something had to be done, and there was no one but herself to do it.
    Tia concentrated. An idea was forming in her mind. As the Goons advanced, turning quickly, she energized the rest, seven more garbage cans, tilted them forward like cannons, and they began to tilt forward like the levelling barrels of a battery of cannon. Abruptly the garbage was fired out of them in a great salvo.
    With a clang, their lids dropped to the ground. Next second, a great salvo of evil-smelling garbage was launched towards the enemy. The Goons reeled as they took the full force of a horrible barrage of rotting vegetables and assorted rubbish.
    The smaller boys gasped in amazement as their enemies were bombarded. And Tia, weary and upset as she was, could not suppress a giggle. It was funny.
    But not for very long. All too quickly the barrage of garbage ended, the cans being out of ammunition. The bespattered Goons, cursing now and enraged beyond endurance, charged murderously. As the hail subsided, they were on their feet and charging forward once again. It seemed that Tia would have to think of something even better if she wanted to stop them.
    The smaller boys huddled behind the cans again and looked helplessly at Tia. There was only one thing left to do.
    This time, for the second time, she energized the empty garbage cans and raised them into the air upside down. For a moment, they hovered above the astonished Goons, and then they suddenly shot upward and forward, downwards, so that they shot almost as if the smaller boys had thrown them. Turning them so that the open ends faced the enemy, she brought them down over the heads and shoulders of the Goons, dropping on top of their heads in a succession of dull clangs, and thrust them tight so that those inside could only stagger blindly about. It did the trick. The dazed Goons staggered blindly around, bumping into each other, crashing into the walls, struggling in vain to lift the heavy cans off their bruised heads, and banging the alley walls with loud crashes that drowned their muffled cries for help. Their howls of pain sounded hollow and metallic, as one by one they tripped and toppled to the ground.
    It was a wonderful sight for the four former victims to watch, and for delightful seconds they watched with openmouthed amazement. Then, realizing this was their chance to escape, one of them cried, “Hey, you guys! We’d better split!”
    Seizing their chance, the four boys leapt out from behind their protective screen of garbage cans and, taking Tia by the hand, taking Tia’s hands weaved a path through the helpless Goons, dodged past the stumbling Goons and raced off down the alley. They ran and ran out of the alley and didn’t stop until their legs refused to carry them any farther.
    Minutes later, after following a winding route that led through broken fences, a burned-out building, down two more alleys, and around a construction site, Tia found herself under a bridge in the middle of a huge drainage area.
    Exhausted, they came to a halt beneath a bridge spanning a drainage area, well out of sight of their enemies. It was a minute or two before the sound of rasping breath subsided and the boys gathered around Tia to thank her for saving their skins.
    The four boys stood looking at her with a mixture of adoration and wonder.
    “Gee,” said one. “Dunno how you did it, but you really saved us from being wiped out.”
    “You sure did,” said another, and added earnestly, “thanks a lot!”
    The others thanked her, and each shook her hand.
    “What’s your name?” then asked a short and dark-haired boy, the shortest and youngest member of the group.
    “Tia,” she replied, in the small but audible voice she had worked so hard to acquire.
    “I’m Rocky,” came the reply, along with an outstretched hand and a wide, toothy grin.
    “I’m Muscles,” said another, the next boy in line. The introduction was delivered in a slow, even voice. He was dark-haired, round-faced and had a slightly pudgy appearance. He wasn’t really muscular at all and hardly had a sign of a muscle on his skinny frame, but from the way he held himself, it was clear to Tia that he thought his name was more than appropriate.
    “Me, I’m Crusher,” said the next, the third. He had a thick mop of fair hair whose fringe was held aloft by a pair of heavy black spectacles. He spoke out of the side of his mouth, as if trying to be much tougher than he looked. He, too, obviously felt he was in line for the next “Mr Universe” title.
    “... and I’m Dazzler,” said the last, the fourth – and tallest – boy of all. He had a chunky, rugged look about him, with bright eyes and a chin that stuck forward in a cheeky, aggressive manner.
    All of them wore short denim jackets which had been roughly relieved of their sleeves, with crumpled sweat shirts underneath. Studded leather wristlets on each of their forearms completed the uniform. They looked a motley group, but Tia had an idea that they were not nearly so tough as they made themselves out to be.
    Dazzler took a deep breath and assumed a serious expression. He looked Tia straight in the eyes. “We’re the Earthquake Gang,” he added proudly, with enormous stress on the word “Earthquake’. He sounded as though he were announcing that World War III had just begun.
    The skinny Muscles asked, “Does that scare you?”
    “No,” said Tia honestly, with a little shake of her head.
    The dark-haired Rocky grimaced, “Maybe we’d better change our name again,” he said disappointedly. “Gotta have a name that scares.”
    Crusher, who had been looking at her curiously, said, “Hey,” he chipped in, changing the subject, “how did you do what you done?”
    Tia shrugged. “Oh... I really didn’t do anything,” she told them.
    Dazzler asked, “You a magician or something?”
    “No,” she said, smiling faintly.
    “Wanna join our gang?” Crusher could see great advantage in having Tia join the Earthquakes. Even the Golden Goons might think twice about arguing with them again.
    But Tia had to decline the offer. “I’m sorry,” she replied, “but I’m looking for someone. Thank you anyway.”
    “Yeah... Oh, sure,” grumbled Muscles, dropping his eyes to the ground. “I guess you’re like the rest of ’em. You musta heard we’re a nothin’ gang.” He seemed depressed by the thought.
    Dazzler said quickly, “We ain’t always gonna be nothin’,” he corrected.
    “Someday,” Crusher nodded, “we’re gonna be the toughest. We’re gonna take over this whole territory!”
    “Yeah,” said Muscle. “Some day they’re gonna run when they see us comin’ down the block. They’re gonna shiver when they hear our name.”
    Tia looked from one to the other. “You don’t understand,” she told them. Tia held a hand up in apology. She hadn’t meant to offend them. “I like you all. It’s just that I’m trying to find my brother,” she explained.
    “Your brother?” said Rocky. “What gang does he belong to?”
    “He doesn’t belong to any gang.”
    “Never heard of a guy who didn’t belong to a gang,” said Crusher incredulously, shaking his head.
    “But you see,” Tia hastened to add, “we’re just visitors here. Tony and I got separated. He – he went to look at something – and didn’t come back. I’m sure something’s happened to him,” said Tia worriedly. “I’ve got to find him.”
    It wasn’t hard to detect the edge of desperation that had crept into Tia’s voice. They were all silent a moment, looking at her sympathetically.
    Muscles put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “If anybody can find him, we can,” then he said sympathetically. “We know this town inside out.”
    Tia could hardly believe her luck. Tia caught her breath. “Would – would you help me?” she asked.
    Dazzler grinned. “Sure,” confirmed Dazzler. “Sure we will! You done us a big favor. Now we’ll do one for you.”
    “Oh, thank you,” beamed Tia gratefully. “Thank you very much.” She shook each of the Earthquakes’ hands in turn. At last, things were beginning to look up. After such a dismal morning: losing Tony, missing the cab, and the long hours of fruitless searching that followed, Tia had come close to despair. Now, with the help of the Earthquakes, she had a real chance of finding her brother again. So the group of youngsters moved back on to the street, laughing and joking and set to take over the whole city. For, with Tia amongst them, who was to say that the Earthquakes couldn’t do just that?

Chapter 3: Search. The Experiment
    The big search began. They started out eagerly enough that afternoon, Tia with rising hope, and the Earthquake gang as if they were secret agents caught up in an exciting undercover job. In the beginning it didn’t go too badly. The boys were clever enough to unravel Tia’s earlier wandering and locate the spot where the taxi had run out of gas. Then they covered the probable area where Tony had vanished, asking questions, poking through empty buildings, and checking dark alleys for signs of possible skulduggery. But from then on the search rather went to pieces. Tony – wherever he was – had been well hidden. Even the Earthquake Gang, who knew the city well enough to find their way about it with their eyes closed, were unable to find him. By mid-afternoon, they were growing tired and beginning to give up hope.
    The youngsters headed on down the street. They decided to continue their search for another hour or so and then, if they still had no luck, to call it a day.
    They had no way of knowing, however, that their quest was about to come to a sudden end much sooner than that – and in a most surprising way.
    The group had just stepped off the sidewalk at the intersection when it happened. It happened suddenly, just as they reached a corner and at a moment when everyone’s spirits were at a low ebb. As it was, they were totally off-guard. If the Earthquakes had had their wits about them, then perhaps they might have noticed the dark-green minibus which had been kerb-crawling behind them for the last two or three blocks. As they started to step off the curb, when the vehicle suddenly accelerated, screeched to a halt, cut abruptly in front of them and stopped, blocking their path.
    The boys yelped in surprise and dismay. Yelping, they leapt back on to the sidewalk. Tia just had time to read the words “Board of Education’ painted in bold white letters across the side of the vehicle, before the driver’s door swung open and a man jumped down to confront them. The driver, a burly little man with a look of bulldog determination on his face, leaped out quickly. He was around the minibus in a flash, arms outstretched, hands extended to catch them, he advanced menacingly on the startled youngsters.
    “It’s Yoyo!” gasped Crusher. “It’s Yokomoto!” Crusher yelled. “Let’s get outa here!”
    Mr Yokomoto – or “Yoyo’ as he was affectionately known by the Earthquakes – was a short, stocky man with round shoulders and a battered leather jacket that looked like it was a size too big for him. He was in his middle years and his pudgy face was heavily lined and frozen in a permanently sad expression. Lunging forward, he made a wild grab for his prey.
    “Okay, kids!” he snapped and yelled. “Get in! It’s all over!”
    It was finally climaxed by an unpleasant encounter with the law in the form of Mr. Yokomoto, the truant officer.
    But it wasn’t, by any means. Yoyo was far too slow. Dazzler found time to tug Tia out of reach, the Earthquakes dodged and ran, dragging Tia with them, and then the gang turned on their heels and hared off down the street. The burly little man gave chase, Yoyo was left clutching at thin air and angrily ordering them back. “Come back!” he shouted, starting after them. But he was gradually left behind as they scrambled through fences and made their way down an alley. He had already missed his chance.
    Just the same, the Earthquakes kept going until they were well out of sight. A couple of blocks later, as they ducked through a gap in some fencing, Tia found time to ask. “Who was that? Who is he?” Tia asked, when she had got her breath.
    “Our worst enemy!” said Dazzler breathlessly.
    “Our w-worst enemy!” Crusher panted. Dazzler added, “Worse than the Golden Goons!”
    Muscles said, “He’s the truant officer!” explained he.
    Tia caught a final glimpse of the officer far behind them, angrily shaking his fist and shouting, “I’ll get you yet!”
    “He’s tryin’ to make us go back to school,” Rocky said, with a look of horror on his face. Tia had the impression that, given the choice, Rocky would rather face the Golden Goons alone and unaided in a dark alley, than face the fate Mr Yokomoto had in store for him.
    In the safety of the next alley the Earthquakes stopped to rest, paused for a while, to catch their breath, while they considered the next move. It had been a narrow squeak, no doubt about that, and now they were all quite exhausted. Tia smiled wryly to herself. Being chased around this city was developing into a full-time hazard...
    Twilight had come, and Tia, who had been hunting for Tony all day, was nearly exhausted. Tia had become depressed and returned to wondering whether she was ever going to see her brother again. More than that, she was as discouraged as she had ever been. Had she been alone she would have broken down and cried. She was desperately hungry, and she hadn’t even considered where she was going to spend the night. In the back of her mind was the awful thought that Tony had been terribly hurt in an accident, and might even be dead. But she kept thrusting the thought away, as far away as she could, so that she wouldn’t lose the hope that kept her going.
    The Earthquakes horsed around in an effort to cheer her up, but it didn’t seem to do much good.
    “That Tony,” Crusher mumbled, “he sure made himself scarce. I can’t figure...”
    “That Tony ain’t nowhere,” Rocky said dispiritedly.
    Muscles said, “I can’t think of no place else to look.”
    “He must’ve evaporated,” Crusher muttered.
    “You dummy!” said Dazzler. “People don’t evaporate! Milk evaporates!”
    Muscles shook his head. “It’s gettin’ sorta late,” he said wearily. Moreover, when he looked at Tia in sudden concern and suggested that they walked Tia home, “Hey, guys, don’t ya think we’d better walk her home?” he only made matters worse.
    “Yeah,” said Dazzler. “Where d’ya live, Tia?”
    It was then Tia remembered that she didn’t have the address of the hotel which Uncle Bené had booked for her. “I – I’m supposed to stay at a hotel,” she said, trying not to sound as dejected as she felt. “But – but I don’t know which one.” The address had been lost along with the note given to Eddie the cab-driver. Now, to top it all, she had nowhere to spend the night.
    Then Dazzler had a brainwave. The Earthquakes – in keeping with all the best gangs – had a secret hideout. Why couldn’t Tia stay there for the time being? It might not be as comfortable as a hotel, but it would be much more fun. And, if the gang didn’t find Tony today, perhaps they could all try again tomorrow. They could go about their search in a more organized fashion, starting where Tia and her brother had last seen each other.
    “You can stay at our secret hideout,” Dazzler offered.
    She looked at him hopefully. “Really? May I?”
    “Sure thing,” said Muscles. “C’mon, guys, let’s show her the place!”
    It was the perfect solution and Tia agreed gratefully. If nothing else had gone right today, at least she was lucky to have found such helpful friends.
    * * *
    They reached the hideout after winding through two more alleys and climbing around a pile of rubble. The Earthquakes’ hideout proved to be something very special. It was dusk by the time Tia set eyes on it – the time at which the building probably looked its most impressive. Twilight had turned to night, and Tia stared in awe at the monstrous house of the past century, rising in dark and turreted dilapidation above the dull glow of a street light. The rambling, nineteenth-century dwelling rose up like a phantom from the desolate wasteground which surrounded it. It was the sole surviving structure on the block – everything else had been razed to the ground by the wrecker’s ball. In the fading half-light, it would have been easy to believe that some demon’s curse lay over the house, preserving it from all harm.
    Tia and the gang picked their way carefully through the rubble towards the house. As they reached the porch, Tia noticed with amusement that the boys had bunched quite closely together. She even fancied she saw Muscles shiver a little, although the evening air was still quite warm.
    The gang bunched together protectively, looked carefully around as if to make sure they were not being ambushed or watched, then quickly picked their way to a side entrance.
    Dazzler removed a board across a broken large front door, pushed on, thrust it open and it creaked open. The youngsters stepped through. Someone struck a match and lighted a kerosene lantern hidden in a corner. Inside it was dark and musty, with one or two square patches of grey light filtering in through the windows. Their eyes took a moment or two to adjust to the gloom. Motioning, Dazzler led the way across the floorboards and up a wide, uncarpeted staircase. It groaned under the gang’s collective weight.
    They climbed on up to the second floor without another word. Dazzler pushed open another door and Tia found herself standing in a large, dark room. Muscles struck a match and a kerosene lamp popped into life, spilling a dim circle of light over the long wooden table on which it was standing. The room was sparsely furnished: some ragged mattresses and a small bunk bed grouped in a corner, a few rickety chairs, a rectangle of threadbare carpet and a pair of old blankets serving as drapes for the solitary window. Cobwebs and peeling wallpaper provided the decoration. The light from the lamp threw flickering patterns on the wall and dark shadows under the youngsters’ eyes.
    Tia followed them inside to a large room decorated like a grotto of horror, as if somehow a frightening atmosphere would contrive to make men of steel. White skeletons danced over black walls, grisly faces with glaring red eyes gazed at them from all sides, and a hangman’s noose dangled in front of a boarded-up window. A stuffed animal, too moth-eaten for identification, showed ferocious teeth from its stance beside a door, and a big dark bird with outstretched wings dangled from a string in the gloom overhead. The actual furnishings ranged from a few packing cases and boxes that served as chairs and tables, to dark, unpleasant-looking draperies that hung like shrouds between the dancing skeletons.
    Tia looked slowly around. She was not greatly thrilled. Tia half expected to see a certain tall figure with heavy boots and a bolt through his neck coming to greet them.
    Rocky said, “Neat, hey?”
    “What time do the ghosts get here?” Tia asked, as much in an effort to break the eerie silence as anything.
    “Don’t – don’t say things like that,” muttered Crusher, looking around nervously behind him.
    Tia wasn’t very impressed. “Is this it?” she asked. “Is this where you live?”
    “This is where we’re gonna live when we run away from home,” explained Dazzler proudly her. “You can’t be a tough guy and take orders from your mother or older sister.”
    Muscles said, “That’s why we quit school,” chipped in Muscles. “You can’t be tough and educated too.”
    Tia opened her mouth to tell him how wrong he was and was about to suggest that spooky hideouts like this one wouldn’t necessarily make you tough either, but the words never came, when she opened her mouth to speak, something entirely different came out. “Tony!” she cried at the top of her voice.
    At that moment a hazy vision of Tony flashed through her mind. He seemed to be on his back, struggling to rise and speak.
    “Tony!” she cried. “Tony...”
    The Earthquakes jumped back in fright. Tia’s hands had shot up to her forehead and she was staring wide-eyed straight ahead of her.
    The Earthquakes jumped in fright and stared at her as if she were a ghost.
    “Wha – what is it?” Dazzler gasped.
    “Wha – where?” said Rocky, looking uneasily around the room. “Where?”
    Tia closed her eyes and screwed up her face in concentration. After a moment, she began to slowly rotate, like a radar scanner searching for a signal. The Earthquakes watched her, frozen to the spot and utterly mystified.
    “I – I had contact with Tony...” Tia began. “Just for a second...” she said hurriedly, and put her fingers to her temples and began turning slowly around, trying to get the direction the contact had come from.
    Rocky swallowed. “She’s weird,” he whispered.
    “She’s creepy,” added Crusher.
    The others stared at her, mystified and uneasy. Rocky said nervously, “You – you callin’ on the spirits?”
    Tia held up her hand to silence her friends. “Shhhh!” she said urgently.
    She was making contact again. The contact came again, stronger and brighter this time. Yes. There was a light – a very fierce, intense light. There were hazy shapes, too, but she couldn’t make any sense of them. She must concentrate harder. Were the shapes human? It was difficult to tell, for the light was so strong. And now the signal was fading again – she had lost her chance. ~Tony!~ she called earnestly. ~Where are you?~ she called desperately.
    Behind her the four boys, who had never experienced anything like this, stood huddled together, frightened, whispering their fears to each other and trying to deny what seemed to be going on before their eyes. To them, Tia had suddenly become creepy and weird, and the mysterious Tony, far from being another boy like themselves, was beginning to loom as an unpleasant spirit that it might be much better not to meet.
    Dazzler shuddered. “I ain’t so sure I wanna meet this Tony,” he said.
    The Earthquakes huddled together protectively. They continued to look on in amazement as, for the third time, Tia began to make contact with her brother. It was as if she were trying to tune in on a radio station whose signal persisted in dying away every few seconds. But now she was getting it again Clearer than before – but still that blinding light was obscuring everything from view. Tia’s face was contorted in a mixture of anguish and concentration. Why couldn’t her brother make a positive telepathic contact? Why did the signal keep fading away? And why couldn’t she see beyond this blazing, dazzling light?
    Tia did not hear their whispers. She had managed to shut them entirely out of her mind while she tried desperately to make contact with Tony.
    The hazy vision of him was getting brighter.
    ~Tony!~ she cried. ~Tony!~
    * * *
    Letha Wedge watched the pulsating light with rapt fascination.
    She was standing in Dr. Victor Gannon’s laboratory, located in the basement, a cavernous underground vault directly beneath the Wedge huge mansion, which stood on a hillside on the eastern outskirts above the city. Dr. Gannon’s large and elaborately equipped laboratory – an extraordinary place that Letha Wedge had had built for him – was furnished with some of the most expensive equipment money could buy – all of which had been supplied by Letha. Strange, complex apparatus dotted the grey-stone walls and floor. Highly advanced instrumentation lined rows of polished metal benches. In the centre stood an operating table, complete with all its sensitive machinery.
    It was on this table that Tony at this moment was lying strapped to, eyes closed and held tightly in place by two wide leather straps. After the hypodermic injection, Tony had been brought here with Sickle, who, still in a zombie condition, was lying motionless on another operating table a few feet away.
    Dr. Gannon, with an almost childish eagerness, had spent the day examining his rare victim. With Letha Wedge’s help, he had rigged a maze of equipment to help him know and understand the possibilities of this most incredible of humans, the like of which he had never dreamed existed.
    Tony was naked from the waist up and down. Small circular pads were attached to his forehead and chest and groin and from these a profusion of wires snaked away to lose themselves in a variety of humming electronic devices. Needles flickered on gauges and coloured lights flashed on panels.
    Taped to Tony’s forehead were a half-dozen wires that led to a variety of electronic devices. His brain waves and impulses were being carefully recorded and measured. Other wires measured heart rate and blood flow, and checked for unknown waves that might indicate the nature of his strange abilities.
    Overhead, above the operating table hung a powerful light of the kind used in surgery. The cluster of frosted spotlights that provided the operating table with its main source of illumination was continually brightening and dimming, like a flashing neon sign. The doctor and his aristocratic assistant were watching it, fascinated.
    “Is he doing that?” asked Letha disbelievingly. “He’s doing that?” Letha Wedge said incredulously.
    Gannon nodded, equally amazed. “He’s doing it,” the doctor affirmed. “He’s projecting a magnetic field through his reflexes, while he’s struggling for consciousness,” he explained. “His output is so great that my instruments aren’t even capable of measuring it.”
    As he spoke he glanced uneasily at one of the instruments, whose needle had reached maximum. As if in agreement, one of the devices to which Tony was hooked began to vibrate ominously. The indicator needle wavered warningly in the red zone and the instrument’s hum rose to a protesting wail. A sudden crack appeared in the glass. Gannon rushed to throw the master switch. He was too late. With a quick movement he thrust Letha Wedge aside. With a resounding bang and cascade of bright red flashes, the machine short-circuited.
    The instrument exploded. Letha gave a startled scream.
    Letha ducked, shielding her head with her hands. “That boy’s dangerous!” she exclaimed. “He’s dangerous!” she yelled.
    The doctor nodded. “He’s dangerous.” Gannon picked himself up from the floor. “But once I have control of his brain,” he scoffed, “he’ll only be dangerous to others.”
    Her face hardened. “I hope you realize kidnapping is a criminal offense.”
    “My experiments,” the doctor said aloofly, “are far more important than law.”
    Like a man possessed, he strode quickly across the laboratory and moved over towards the prostrate form of dazed Sickle, who was lying motionless in a semi-dazed condition on another table.
    Turning Sickle’s head to one side, he reached and felt behind the ear and carefully set about the delicate task of removing the tiny electronic receptor he had placed there earlier. With an odd tight smile, he held the small device up and looked at it fondly for a moment. “With these receptors placed on certain important people,” he said slowly, musingly, “and with this boy’s powers combined,” he gloated, “I’ll become one of the most influential men in the world.”
    Letha Wedge’s eyebrows went up. Suddenly she smiled. “You’re absolutely brilliant, Professor. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Then perhaps now we can move forward with some of my plans, too,” she prompted.
    Gannon scowled. He gave a faint snort. “Don’t bother me with your plans, Letha,” he said irritably. “They’re quite empty and unimportant – a comment, perhaps, on you and the kind of life you’ve led.”
    Letha’s mouth set in a taut line. She was deeply offended. True, Victor was a scientific genius and the real brains of the outfit, but that didn’t mean he could insult her when he felt like it. After all, it was Letha’s money which had gone to setting up this laboratory. In doing so, she had got herself in debt up to her neck. Gannon, of course, had contributed nothing. Indeed, he had no money of his own, for he had been out of employment for years. Outlawed by his fellow scientists for his dangerous experiments, he had journeyed the length of the country, trying to find someone to sponsor him in his search for the secret of mind-control. No one would accommodate him – no one that is, until he met the ambitious Letha, who saw in his ideas the way to a fortune beyond her wildest dreams.
    Letha Wedge stiffened. Her mouth thinned and hardened. “Now just one minute, Doctor, Professor, Physicist – whatever you are. I built this laboratory for you at great expense, using every penny I had. We’ve made a lot of plans, and I won’t let you upset them. I need some money – fast!”
    The doctor gave her a disdainful glance, and turned away. “Letha, we’re worlds apart,” he said loftily. “My mind is filled with large concepts: Mankind... the Universe. You – why, you merely wonder which horse is running in the third race.”
    “Sure I gamble,” Letha snapped. “But with my own money!” It was said that Letha Wedge would gamble her entire wealth on two raindrops running down a window-pane – and there was more than a little truth in this. An edge came to her voice. “You’re the worst kind of gambler. You use other people’s money, then you want to keep all the winnings for yourself! But don’t worry, Victor – I’ll be there to pick up the chips with you!”
    Her temper was up and she might have said far more, she had just decided to put her arrogant partner straight on the matter, when a high-pitched noise caused them both to turn in the direction of the operating table. At that moment Tony moved and another of the measuring devices attached to him had reached over-load. The instrument whined hysterically for a second and then, with a loud crash, blew apart, sending fragments flying across the laboratory.
    She gasped. It was almost unbelievable, the power this boy could generate. The problem was, now that he had succeeded, Gannon appeared more interested in power than riches. It was a trait which irritated Letha, for she hungered only for money. Enough of it to make her the richest woman in the world. It suddenly occurred to her that Victor was a clever fool, with no right whatever to call himself a scientist. A real scientist. A real scientist would be overcome with interest in the boy himself – not how he could make use of the boy’s abilities for personal gain.
    Then abruptly she shook her head. She couldn’t afford to think this way. She needed money too badly herself. Consequently, she needed little persuasion to accept the exhilarating gamble that Gannon’s mind-control presented.
    The bargain had been struck: Letha would supply the money, and Gannon would perfect his amazing device. Then he would use it to make Letha fabulously rich.
    Quickly she stepped forward to help the doctor at the operating table. Gannon stopped what he was doing and hurried across to check on his instruments. The two that remained in operation, monitoring Tony’s energy-field, were going wild. And now he could see why. Tony was regaining consciousness. His eyelids were flickering and he was trying to raise his head. Tony had opened his eyes, and now he was struggling to raise his head. Not yet, thought Gannon, not yet. He must not allow the boy to awaken before he had transplanted the receptor. There was no telling what might happen if he did.
    Frantically, Gannon scrabbled away on a nearby bench for his hypodermic needle.
    “The hypo – hurry!” Dr. Gannon ordered.
    Swiftly she picked up the hypodermic from the instrument tray and gave it to him.
    Tony was coming round very quickly. For a few seconds after he opened his eyes, Tony fought to clear his mind and find the strength to rise.
    Hazy shapes swam in his vision. Was he in some kind of laboratory? Two of the shapes moved, a man and a woman. They seemed vaguely familiar...
    In the Earthquakes’ hideout, Tia saw the brightness that shone in Tony’s eyes, and the hazy shapes. “Tony!” she cried. “Where are you? Oh, Tony, please answer!”
    But he wasn’t quickly enough. Then a firm hand thrust his head back to the table. Next moment the doctor Gannon had the needle in his grasp, pushed Tony back on the table and thrust, was plunging the needle into his helpless victim’s arm. Tony felt the bite of a needle in his arm.
    Instead of an answer she felt the needle as it went into his arm, then the contact was wiped out in sudden blackness. For the second time that day, Tony sank back into the deep, bottomless well of oblivion.
    Blackness overcame him again.
    * * *
    The blinding light which Tia had seen so clearly, suddenly went out.
    “It – it’s all gone black!” she reported tremulously, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Now everything is completely gone.”
    Listlessly, she swallowed, moved to the bunk bed in the corner and sat down on one of the improvised chairs, miserable and deeply depressed. She sighed heavily. Something told her that her brother wouldn’t be resuming contact for some time. There was nothing she could do about it; she just had to wait. The most frustrating thing of all was that she hadn’t been able to form any idea of his whereabouts. If only she had even a small clue...
    Across the room the Earthquakes, who had been keeping a safe distance from her, gave sighs of relief. The creepiness had vanished and she had become an ordinary girl again. Well, not exactly ordinary, for no other girl in the world was like Tia. But there was nothing to be afraid of now.
    They came close and stood around her, and Dazzler said, “We’ll be back in the morning with maps and some breakfast. When we start lookin’ again, we’re gonna really find that Tony.”
    “Right,” said Rocky. “And I’ll bring an egg – from my own ’frigerator.”
    “I’ll bring some day-old bread for toastin’,” Crusher promised, and Muscles said, “I’ll help the guy in the grocery store in the mornin’, so’s he can pay me with a container of milk for you.”
    Dazzler wound it up by saying, “We’ll give you an honest breakfast.”
    The Earthquakes gathered round to console her. But she was too tired and too upset to be consoled – even by good friends such as these. Tia bit her lip to hold back the tears, and managed a smile for them. “Thank you,” she told them earnestly. “You’re good friends.”
    The skinny Muscles said, “That’s the trouble with us. We don’t wanna be good – we wanna be bad!”
    In the end, the boys decided it would be best to leave her alone.
    Dazzler said, “Let’s go, you guys. My Mom’s gonna really yell at me.”
    “Yeah, we’d better go,” said Crusher. “See you tomorrow, Tia.”
    With assurances that they would find Tony in the morning, the gang filed out, bunching close together for protection as they neared the entrance. So they left quietly, promising to return in the morning with whatever food they could find and the maps they needed to help them in their renewed search of the city.
    When she was alone after they had gone, Tia sat down for a long while on one of the rough bunks that had been built along the side of the room. The dark did not frighten her, nor did the prospect of spending the night by herself in such a place as this. Her only concern was for Tony. She tried valiantly to focus her mind on him staring blankly into the darkness and somehow puzzle out what had happened. But she was too tired. The tears that she had been holding back for hours suddenly came in a flood. She finally cried herself to sleep.
    Eventually, she doused the kerosene lamp, lay down on the lumpy bed, and softly cried herself to sleep.
    Thankfully, she slept soundly and without dreams. She awoke eight hours later to the sounds of the Earthquakes entering the house and stomping up the staircase. Tia got up and tugged back the drapes.

Chapter 4: Slave
    It began as a perfectly beautiful day. The sun shone brightly on Letha Wedge’s great house above the city, and in the trees around it the birds sang gaily as if this were a special morning to be remembered. In the spacious laboratory she had built for Dr. Gannon, everything was in order and all the equipment was humming and perking in a most satisfactory manner. Even Alfred, the laboratory goat, in his stall near the cages of guinea pigs and mice, was relishing a scrap of cardboard while he watched the goings-on in the center of the room.
    On the main operating table Tony lay face down, carefully strapped in place and blindfolded. The doctor and his once-wealthy patron, attired in white smocks, were preparing to attach the receptor behind Tony’s ear. Letha’s nephew, Sickle, quite recovered from his unpleasant experience of the day before, stood by the instrument tray, assisting.
    It was a very simple matter to attach the receptor, but the doctor, relishing the importance of it, went about it as if it were a heart transplant. Presently, with the air of a maestro whose skill is unequaled, he stepped back with a little flourish of his scalpel hand, and nodded.
    “Done,” he said. “Turn him over and remove the blindfold.”
    Letha Wedge and Sickle loosened the straps, very carefully turned Tony over on his back, then tightened the straps again. The doctor drew a deep breath and picked up the remote control unit, which he had rebuilt the evening before. Ceremoniously he activated it and set all the dials.
    “This is Doctor Gannon,” he spoke into the microphone. “I command you to awaken!”
    A little tremor went through Tony’s body. Abruptly his eyes popped open. At the same time something very strange began to happen inside his head.
    * * *
    The sun was shining just as brightly above the slum area of the city as it was on Letha Wedge’s hill, but very little of its brightness penetrated the smog. As for birdsong, not even a sparrow chirped near the hideout of the Earthquakes. But it mattered little.
    It was a fine day outside and the morning sun reached into the room to warm her and lift Tia’s spirits. Tia was up, and this was a new day. She yawned and stretched widely. Hope had returned, and she had learned long ago that if one clings to hope, then practically anything can happen.
    A second later, the door opened and her friends tumbled in, spilling a handful of smuggled food on to the table. The gang had brought her the promised breakfast. Tia sat down to a hearty breakfast consisting of a slice of ham, three hardboiled eggs, four slices of cold toast and a carton of milk. It had been a long time since she had last eaten and the food tasted delicious.
    While she ate, Muscles produced a detailed map of the city from his jacket pocket, spread it on the table and now they were all sitting about the table, going over one of Dazzler’s maps. He quickly pinpointed the location where Tia had last seen her brother. They had marked the apparent spot where Tony had gone before he vanished, but no one was in agreement about the direction he might have taken afterward. And the group got down to an argument on how best to conduct the day’s search. The city looked a dauntingly large place – and they had so little to go on.
    “If you lost ’im here,” said Dazzler, putting a grimy forefinger on the map, “it looks to me like he mighta gone this way.” His finger traced an angular route that ended at a park.
    “Aw, no... no! He wouldn’t go that way,” Crusher insisted, forgetting in his interest to talk out of the side of his mouth. “Here’s what he’d do...” He traced an entirely different route, to which Muscles and Rocky objected.
    For his part, Crusher said he didn’t mind how they planned the operation, so long as there was a good chance of a rumble with someone on the way. He punched the air playfully to show he meant business. He reckoned this must have looked pretty tough, although he secretly hoped that Tia wouldn’t suggest going anywhere near the Golden Goon territory again...
    Tia listened quietly for a while, the conviction growing that they were all wrong. Suddenly she said, “It wasn’t Tony that chose where he went. Don’t you see? It – it was somebody else. If he’d had his way he’d have come back to the taxi.”
    The boys stared at her. Dazzler said, “You mean....”
    Tia swallowed. “Only two things could have happened to him. Either he was hurt, and taken to a hospital. Or – or he was kidnapped.”
    “Kidnapped!” Dazzler exclaimed.
    “Who’d kidnap ’im?” Rocky wanted to know.
    “Anyhow, who’d pay the ransom? You got a million dollars?”
    He needn’t have worried. Tia wasn’t about to suggest anything. Tia started to say that she and Tony had almost been kidnapped a year ago when they were trying to reach Witch Mountain, and that there were people in the world who probably would pay far more than a million for the use of their peculiar talents. But this would have required a long explanation, and she decided it was wiser to say nothing.
    “Why don’t we try—” Tia began, and abruptly stopped. For at this moment, up on Letha Wedge’s hill, Dr. Gannon had activated his control unit and commanded Tony to awaken.
    Tia was sitting bolt upright in her chair, with a partially eaten slice of toast held halfway to her mouth. Her eyes were tightly closed.
    “Here we go again...” said Rocky, watching Tia apprehensively. He was getting familiar with the symptoms of Tia’s trances. The Earthquakes stood absolutely still, waiting to see what would happen.
    Tia was making contact again, and this time the images were much sharper than before. She furrowed her brow in concentration. She fancied she heard a man’s voice. A deep voice, which had a ring of authority about it. And yes – she could see strange machines and instruments, of the kind you might expect to find in...
    Tia suddenly sat up straight. “Tony!” she cried.
    The boys around her cringed.
    “There she goes again!” Rocky whispered, and began to ease away from this unexpected return to the weird. The others, equally uneasy, followed his example. Tia was left alone at the table.
    Eyes closed, head raised, she said slowly, “Someone is talking to him...”
    She concentrated, trying with all the power of her mind to see what Tony was seeing. There were hazy shapes, undefined... figures that seemed to be wearing white...
    “... a hospital,” she said slowly. “Tony’s in a room somewhere... and it looks like a hospital...”
    * * *
    In the laboratory on Letha Wedge’s hill, Dr. Victor Gannon, still holding the control unit, stood by the operating table watching Tony carefully. Near him Letha was poised, eyes sharp and bright as a hawk’s, a hypodermic ready in her long clawlike fingers. Sickle waited just beyond her, his receding forehead wrinkled with curiosity and expectation.
    On the operating table, Tony was straining his eyes to see. He seemed to be on a table, strapped down. What sort of place was this? And those people, that man and that woman... who...?
    He had heard the voice saying, “This is Doctor Gannon,” said the voice. “I command you to awaken.”
    Tony’s eyes snapped open. He was still strapped tightly to the operating table in Gannon’s laboratory, but the tangle of wires and electronic sensors was gone. The only device attached to him now was Gannon’s tiny receptor, which had been carefully installed behind his right ear.
    His mind was a complete blank; he had no memory and he could not seem to marshal his thoughts. He was aware only of a powerful outside influence that was sapping his will – and of a voice which he had to obey.
    Now he was awake and trying hard to pull his thoughts together, but something seemed to have a grip upon them. Next he made an attempt to move, and could not. He might have been paralyzed. In his inner mind he heard Tia’s distant, urgent call, ~Tony!~ and he tried with all his might to answer, but he seemed to have lost the power to do so.
    Angrily, furiously, desperately, he fought to break away from the grip that held his mind. While he fought, he heard the voice of Dr. Gannon saying, now it was speaking again, “You will now function exclusively under my control,” intoned Gannon. He was standing close to the table, holding the control unit to his mouth. At his shoulder Letha stood poised with the hypodermic needle, ready to pounce if the patient showed any signs of non-cooperation. “You will no longer think independently. All thinking and reasoning will be done by the voice that commands you,” continued the doctor. “Do you understand?”
    “Yes,” answered Tony flatly. “Yes,” he heard himself reply, in a curiously flat tone that did not sound like himself. His fury rose and he tried to shout a denial at this man who wanted to control him and turn him into a slave. But he was unable to make a sound. His tongue belonged to Dr. Gannon.
    ~But I don’t belong to you!~ he told himself, and gave a desperate mental jerk that tore the I part of him free, so that he seemed to fall back within his own skull, a small, frightened, confused being who was confined in the space behind his eyes, but was somehow free to think his own thoughts. This being that was his inner self, and himself alone, had nothing to do with the captive outer self – the brain and body that had been stolen from him and over which he no longer had the slightest control.
    “What is your name?” Dr. Gannon was demanding.
    “Tony,” he heard himself say, though he fought for silence.
    “Where are you from, Tony?”
    “Witch Mountain.”
    “Must be a hick town,” chipped in another man, Sickle, who was cautiously observing proceedings from the far side of the table – a young man with a receding brow he could see vaguely beyond the doctor. Was that the man he’d saved from falling?
    “How,” the doctor asked slowly, “did you suspend Mr. Sickle in midair?” pressed Gannon.
    “By energizing matter,” Tony’s voice was characterless, mechanical, he heard his voice say woodenly – and raged inwardly because he hadn’t let the arrogant and snaky Mr. Sickle fall to his death. But no, he couldn’t have done that. No one could who had made the long journey from the dying planet of the two suns to this strange and greedy world. Life was too precious. You did all you could to save it.
    Dr. Gannon, with something like amazement in his voice, was now saying, “Do you mean to say and tell me that you can control molecular flow?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “How did you learn to do this?”
    “I was born with the ability.”
    Dr. Gannon grunted and thought for a moment, stood thinking for a moment. Abruptly he said, “I wish to see a demonstration of molecular flow,” he said finally. “You are strapped to the table. I command you to unbuckle yourself!”
    Obediently, Tony raised his head. Tony’s inner self was aware that his captive self raised his head, studied the straps that held him to the table. The straps pinning him to the table were held together by large metal buckles. As the assembled company looked on in amazement, Tony energized the buckles.
    While the straps were unbuckling themselves, his eyes were able to take in more of the room, and he saw the woman on the other side of the doctor. She was the one who had talked so sweetly to him and held his attention while the doctor plunged the hypodermic needle into his back. The rage he’d felt earlier rose again. ~Buzzards!~ he screamed silently from the prison of his skull. ~Buzzards! Rotten, dirty buzzards!~
    The doctor and his two assistants stood watching in amazement while the straps, as if manipulated by invisible hands, finished unbuckling themselves, slipped gently apart, dropping down to hang straight down at the side from the table. Tony, zombielike, sat up stiffly while his inner self continued to rage.
    “Excellent! Excellent!” Dr. Cannon beamed and purred, as if highly pleased with what the future held. “You have fantastic possibilities. You have fantastic potential. I think it’s time to take you out on a shakedown cruise – to find out what you can really do.”
    Tony’s head turned automatically, watching him, and for the first time he was able to view a large portion of the laboratory. To his inner eye it was a hazy view, but it occurred to him that Tia might be able to see it also if she was still trying to contact him. His rage subsided as he tried to take in as much of his surroundings as possible.
    * * *
    Tia, at that moment, caught a quick, hazy view of what Tony was seeing, but the mental picture faded almost as quickly as it came. Even so, her unusually retentive memory clung to the vision.
    Eyes closed, she tried to tell the others what she had seen. “Tony... he’s in some kind of room with... white tables and things... like a hospital... There are machines and instruments and... and things...”
    “Hey, that’s easy!” Dazzler exclaimed. “All we gotta do is check the hospitals.”
    “Right!” said Crusher, remembering now to speak out of the side of his mouth. “We’ll check ’em while we’re goin’ around lookin’ for a fight.”
    Muscles said, “C’mon, you guys! Let’s get goin’!”
    They grabbed Tia’s hands and headed quickly for the door.
    * * *
    In the laboratory, Tony was sitting up stiffly on the operating table, awaiting further instructions. His inner self was aware that Letha Wedge was watching him carefully, the hypodermic needle ever ready in her hand. Sickle was also watching him, his heavy eyebrows raised in an attitude somewhere between astonishment and absolute disbelief. Only Dr. Gannon seemed thoroughly inspired.
    “It’s hard to believe!” the doctor exclaimed happily. He turned to Letha, triumphantly. “A power has come into my hands... our hands centuries ahead of its time. We must use it wisely.”
    Letha Wedge looked a little bemused. “What will we have him do?” she asked, her voice rising. “Have him go around making people’s belts open?”
    Gannon snorted in disgust at Letha’s inability to appreciate this scientific wonder. “The possibilities are unlimited,” the doctor said expansively and assured her.
    Sickle’s shrugged sceptically, his mouth twitched. “Come on, now. It’s just some kind of a gimmick, that’s all,” he sneered.
    Dr. Gannon turned and looked him over coldly, then raised his eyebrows in mock query. He couldn’t abide fools. It was high time this one was taught a lesson. He glanced around the laboratory, looking for inspiration. The doctor indicated an anesthetic stand positioned at the head and to the right of the operating table, and gave a little nod. Suddenly, an idea came to him. Gannon smiled chillingly and said to Tony, “Tony,” he said pensively into the control unit, “Mr. Sickle, whose life you saved, still doesn’t believe in you. He’s tired, physically and mentally. He should rest. Help him to sleep, Tony. Give him a snoot full of ether.”
    Gannon nodded towards an anaesthetic stand and Tony followed his gaze. The inner Tony watched, suddenly fascinated, while his other self activated the stand. Next moment, the four tiny rubber wheels on which it was mounted began moving the stand in Sickle’s direction. The rubber mask on top of the ether cylinder, attached to it by a hose, detached itself, rose cobralike and, trailing its flexible hose behind it, moved toward and reached out towards Sickle’s face. Sickle yelped and backed fearfully away. “Hey, wait a minute...” cried Sickle, anxiously backing away. “Wait a minute... wait!”
    He tried to wave the thing off, and said hoarsely, “Go away! Go away!” Instead, Sickle was forced to flee and the stand pursued him. The mobile cylinder bore down on him, the black rubber mask floating in mid-air, ready to pounce like a striking cobra. Sickle managed to dodge the first attack, ducking behind one of the benches. He yelled for Gannon to turn it off but the doctor simply smiled as the cylinder swung slowly round and began the pursuit all over again.
    It pursued him relentlessly like a live thing, the cobralike mask weaving in front of it, threatening at any moment to strike. Finally it did strike. It backed Sickle into a corner against a piece of equipment, the mask slapped itself over his face, and the quivering Sickle, powerless to remove it, suddenly crumpled.
    The inner Tony heard Dr. Gannon chuckle, highly pleased.
    Letha watched with an expression of amusement and sheer wonderment on her face. She was still doubtful, however. Then Letha Wedge said, “I can see how he, the boy would be a big hit at a scientific convention,” she posed, “but the bottom line is: how do we make money with him and out of him?”
    Gannon shook his head. The trouble with Letha, he thought, was that she didn’t know how to apply her imagination. “Oh, we’ll make money with him,” the doctor assured her. “Let me demonstrate an industrial application,” suggested Gannon. “Come, Tony. We’ll all go down into the cellar and show her a little industrial application.” With that he steered both Tony and Letha out of the laboratory, down a flight of steps and into the wine cellar. Behind them, they left the loudly protesting Sickle frenziedly dodging between the benches in his efforts to evade the relentless ether cylinder.
    Tony was directed across the laboratory and down a flight of steps to another level.
    The wine cellar was large and well stocked. Letha had an appetite for good food and fine wines surpassed only by her appetite for the money which supplied them. Row upon row of bottles and wooden casks were neatly arranged around the walls of the cellar. Off to one side, a number of wine casks stood upright on the cold stone floor. They were newly delivered, had been left in the middle of the floor and were awaiting proper storage.
    The doctor pointed, and said, “Tony,” instructed Gannon, “I want you to stack those wine casks neatly over yonder.”
    It was a tricky operation, but Tony accomplished it faultlessly. While it was being done, the inner Tony did his best to drop one of the casks on Dr. Gannon’s head, but he was powerless to do a thing. The outer Tony followed the orders exactly. The casks were activated, one by one he energized the heavy casks and, manoeuvring them with great care, levitated to the chosen spot, and formed them into a neatly stacked pyramid. Letha watched the operation closely, clearly impressed with Tony’s skill.
    “And now, Tony,” continued Gannon, when the last cask had been levitated into position, “you will serve us with two glasses of Burgundy.”
    Accordingly, a pair of wine glasses detached themselves from a nearby shelf and glided smoothly through the air to suspend themselves beneath the spigots of two wine casks. A spigot was opened, the glasses were filled, ark red liquid flowed into the glasses. Another gentle flight across the cellar brought them safely into the outstretched hands of Gannon and Letha. Not a drop of Burgundy had been spilt.
    The two unlikely partners clinked glasses in a toast. The doctor smiled and raised his glass. “To Molecular Mobilization!” he said grandly.
    Letha Wedge, who obviously had been greatly impressed by all these demonstrations, gave a thin, calculating smile and raised her glass.
    “To molecular capitalization!” echoed Letha determinedly.
    They tossed the wine down in one gulp and burst into a peal of laughter. They were on their way to power and riches untold.
    While the captive Tony stood passively by, the inner Tony looked on and silently raged.
    A few yards away, back in the laboratory, Sickle found himself unable to join in the celebrations. He was sitting propped against the laboratory goat’s cage, sleeping soundly, with the rubber mask from the anaesthetic stand clamped firmly over his face...

Chapter 5: The Plan. Gold Rush
    It had been a very discouraging day, but Tia was not yet ready to give up. She and the Earthquakes spent the day inquiring at every hospital in the city, to see if Tony had been admitted. Naturally, they drew a blank. Late afternoon found them back wandering the streets again, tired and uncertain how to continue their quest.
    While the weary Earthquakes straggled behind her, watching, every so often Tia would pause in her stride, moved slowly down the street and put a hand to her forehead, eyes closed, fingers touching her temples while she tried again and again in an effort to contact Tony, to “tune-in’ on Tony’s wavelength.
    Rocky, suddenly wondering about the continual movement of her fingers to her head, looked at Crusher and said, “She’s been doin’ that all day for hours. Y’think she’s okay?” said Rocky, as Tia went through her telepathic ritual yet again.
    “Maybe she’s got a headache,” suggested Crusher dryly and offered. “I sorta got one myself. It’s been a no-good day.”
    Dazzler came to Tia’s side. “Tia? Y’gettin’ any clues?” he asked.
    Tia opened her eyes and gave a dispirited shake of her head. “No,” she murmured. “Nothing at all,” replied Tia, opening her eyes. “It’s so strange...”
    “I can’t figure it,” said Muscles. “We’ve been to every hospital, and he’s not in any of them.”
    Tia shook her head. “It’s like as if his mind is a complete blank.”
    “He must be conked out,” concluded and muttered Crusher out of the side of his mouth, somewhat tactlessly.
    This remark seemed obviously to upset Tia, who looked as if she were about to break down. The strain of the last couple of days was beginning to tell on her, and the Earthquakes had been slow to appreciate it. Muscles and the others gave Crusher a hard shove and a push for his thoughtless comment and Dazzler put a comforting arm around Tia’s shoulder. Tia was upset by Crusher’s remark. “Don’t listen to him, Tia,” he said reassuringly.
    Rocky came over to take Tia’s hand. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna find Tony for sure. Yeah,” he added sympathetically.
    “Right,” said Muscles, taking Tia’s other hand. “Tomorrow we’ll find him if we have to turn this town upside down.”
    Tia managed to produce a wan smile. She knew the Earthquakes meant well, but she also knew that, as time slipped by, the chances of finding her brother were growing slimmer and slimmer.
    The hideout was just ahead. In the evening light the hideous old structure looked anything but inviting, but Tia glimpsed it with relief. It had been, as Crusher had said, a no-good day.
    But tomorrow...
    * * *
    As darkness settled over the city, Letha Wedge went to the desk in her study. Letha’s spacious study was in semi-darkness. The heavy, luxuriant drapes were drawn, shutting out the lights of the city and the cool white moon that hung in the sky above them. The highly polished oak-panelling shone dully with the yellow light of a solitary angle-poised lamp. Letha sat behind her desk, poring intently over a collection of papers and photographs. Opening a bottom drawer, she took out a group of plans and photographs she had hidden there and was going over them carefully when she heard the door behind her. Abruptly, the door of the study clicked open and a white rectangle imprinted itself on the thick pile carpet. She looked up sharply, scrabble and started to conceal the plans, then relaxed again as she saw the identity of her visitor, she saw that the intruder was her nephew, Sickle.
    Sickle closed the door behind him. His lengthy, casual stride took him across to the desk in three easy steps. He perched himself on the edge of it. Nodding at the pile of documents, he said, “Got the horses picked for tomorrow?” Sickle asked, giving her a conspiratorial grin.
    Letha supported her chin in the heel of her right hand. “I’m thinking... planning...” she explained.
    “Good!” He grinned again. “We need a couple of winners. We owe every bookie in town.”
    “We already have a winner,” she told him. “A big winner!” corrected Letha.
    He raised his eyebrows. “The daily double?”
    Letha shook her head condescendingly. “My dear nephew,” she began patiently, “I’m talking about our new companion. Think of us in a different place... such as... Las Vegas... with Tony. Imagine an evening and us at the roulette table: Tony makes our number win each time. Then we move to the crap table and throw the dice.”
    Sickle’s slow-witted brain took two or three seconds to make the connection. “Seven or eleven every time, right?”
    She nodded. “And imagine a day at the races with Tony... Can you imagine for instance, what a day at the races with Tony would be like?”
    “All the longshots come in, eh?..” he answered slowly, “You mean, that Tony could help us to win every ti—”
    “Exactly,” interjected Letha. “You do have an imagination after all,” she replied. “Yes, as Victor said, the possibilities with Tony are unlimited. For example... today he stacked the wine casks just by looking at them. If he can stack them... he can unstack them too...”
    Letha selected a photograph from among the handful on her desk, gave him a twisted little smile and handed him a photograph of a pyramid of gold, passed it to her nephew. Her cold blue eyes watched him expectantly.
    “What’s this – gold?” Sickle frowned. “Gold? Yeah, gold!” Sickle muttered. The photograph depicted a large pyramid of gleaming yellow bars, encased in some kind of glass – or was it plastic? – bubble.
    “Three million dollars’ worth to be precise,” confirmed Letha. “It’s on display at the museum, just waiting for us to walk in and take it,” she told him. “Enough to pay back our creditors and bookies, plus some pocket money for us. The gold is on display at the museum, protected by an impenetrable security system. Just sitting there – waiting for us to penetrate it.”
    “Us?” said her nephew. A wide smile spread across Sickle’s angular face. “You mean Gannon said it’s okay to use the control and Tony?”
    She sniffed. “No,” admitted Letha. “Doctor Professor Gannon is extremely busy being a genius. But I own half the invention, and half of Tony. That means I own half the profits. So far, the return on my investment has been half of zero. It’s high time we put that right.”
    Sickle growled, “All I’m getting is a bald spot where he keeps attaching that thing.”
    “Then,” said Letha, holding up the photograph of the gold, “isn’t it time to get – something?”
    “Yeah,” Sickle nodded reflectively. Then he studied the photograph again. “But what about the security?” he mused. “We’d need an army to pull it off and penetrate the kind of security they’d have for this.”
    Letha spread her hands and smiling broadly, rose from her desk. “But we’ll have an army with us,” she pointed out. Letha smiled again. “We’ll have Tony.”
    Sickle snapped his fingers and grinned. “Aunt Letha, you’re too much!”
    * * *
    In the Earthquakes’ hideout down in the darkness of the city, Tia finally gave up trying to sleep. While her eyes watched the skeletons on the wall – they seemed to dance in the flickering light of the lantern – her mind grappled with the problem of what could have happened to Tony.
    They’d checked the hospitals, so it was very unlikely that he’d been in an accident. That left kidnapping.
    But who could have kidnapped Tony? And why?
    Tony had been gone only a few minutes when it happened. Furthermore, it had happened in a strange place, evidently on the spur of the moment, so it must have been done by a complete stranger. But what would prompt a stranger, who didn’t know anything about Tony, to kidnap him?
    Could the falling body have had anything to do with it? Had the stranger watched Tony de-gravitate, or possibly energize, the person who was falling? That must be it. And a hypodermic must have been used to make Tony unconscious – for she’d felt the jab of it herself at the time she’d lost contact with him.
    And where was Tony now? Locked away in some horrible private laboratory where she might never be able to find him?
    The thought brought her to tears and made her more miserable than ever.
    Suddenly she sat up, and with all the power she possessed, she sent forth another call to him:
    ~Tony... Tony... Tony... Can you hear me? Why can’t I get through to you? Tony...~
    The captive Tony, asleep on a cot in a basement room in Letha Wedge’s great house on a hill, stirred uneasily at the call but did not waken. He could not waken so long as the control unit, on a nearby table, had the red light turned on. But the inner Tony heard and tried frantically to call back. Again and again he tried, even though he well knew he did not have the power to send it beyond the skull that imprisoned him.
    Finally, when he could no longer hear Tia, he gave up the attempt to answer and began wondering what tomorrow had in store for him. From what he’d overheard – and even Dr. Gannon had failed to discover there was a part of him capable of overhearing a great deal, even through closed doors – the members of this scheming household were far from agreement on anything. And Letha Wedge and her nephew had plans of their own. Plans, something told him, that would mean trouble for everyone...
    * * *
    While the captive Tony slept on into the morning, the inner Tony listened to the sounds of activity through the house: people getting up, having breakfast, preparing to go about their business for the day. Presently, in the driveway somewhere beyond the window of the room where he lay, he heard Letha Wedge and Sickle talking to Dr. Gannon, then the sound of a car door being closed.
    He heard the doctor say, “I’ll pick up the new transistors, make a few stops, and be back later on. By noon, I hope.”
    “Take your time, Victor,” Letha Wedge told him. “Everything will be under control.”
    Sure, Tony thought. You’ll have me under control. He didn’t like the idea one bit, but there was nothing whatever he could do about it. He heard the doctor start the motor, and following it came the soft purr of the car moving down the driveway.
    Almost immediately Sickle whispered, “Let’s go!”
    The following morning Letha’s plan was put into action. Gannon had taken the Citroen into town to pick up some new equipment for his laboratory and had left a note saying that he would not be back for some time. Letha saw her chance. Dragging Sickle along with her, she slipped down to the laboratory and through to one of the small basement rooms where Tony was being kept prisoner.
    Seconds later Tony heard Sickle and Letha come into his room. Unlocking the door, they entered to find the boy sleeping soundly on the hard-looking bunk bed in the corner. Next to him, on a low table, lay Gannon’s miniature miracle: the mind-control unit. The blue light burning brightly on its panel of buttons showed that it was in neutral mode. Cautiously, Letha walked over and picked it up. She held it as though it were a grenade that might explode with the slightest mishandling.
    “You sure you know how to use it?” said a worried Sickle.
    Tony could not see them for his eyes were closed, hut evidently Letha picked up the control unit, because Sickle muttered, “You sure you know how to use it?”
    “Of course I’m sure,” Letha replied tartly. “I’m very good with mechanical things,” she assured him, completely unaware that the device she held in her hands was about as mechanical as a quartz wristwatch.
    There were buttons on the control unit that had to be pressed a certain way. Apparently she did it right. Gingerly, she selected a button marked “transmit’ and depressed it. Abruptly, the blue light went out, a green one came on and the unit began to make a low buzzing sound. It seemed to encourage her. Clearing her throat, she lifted the control unit to her mouth and all at once she ordered:
    “Tony!” she said assertively, “this is Letha Wedge commanding you to open your eyes. I command you to open your eyes.”
    On cue, Tony’s eyes popped open, and he saw the two of them looking at him intently, anxiously. Letha was almost as surprised as Sickle. Perhaps this thing wasn’t as difficult to handle as she had thought. “Stand up,” she ordered.
    Obediently, Tony swung his legs from the bed, got up slowly and stood up before them, a little stiffly like a robot awaiting orders from a master.
    The same vacant stare still glazed his eyes. Letha smiled. The sense of power she felt was electrifying; she had no idea how exciting it could be. Relieving the city museum of three million dollars’ worth of gold bars was going to be no problem at all...
    “Okay, Tony,” Letha said. “We’re going to the museum today – for education and profit. Follow me.”
    He followed her into the garage, and with Letha at their head, the motley trio went up through the house and out to the garage. They got into Sickle’s car. Sickle reversed out in the household’s second car, a big yellow Ford. Letha and Tony got in, Sickle drove them into the city, the car glided off down the hill towards the city and parked next to the museum.
    Fifteen minutes later, Sickle braked gently to a halt outside the museum and parked next to it. They got out.
    Letha clutched the control unit tightly in her elegant, black-gloved hands, the glint of gold already in her eyes. Quickly, she, giving her nephew an encouraging pat on the shoulder, issued Sickle with his instructions.“You’ll stay here and have the trunk open,” Letha said quietly. He was to remain with the car and be ready, with the trunk open and waiting for the delivery of the gold bars.
    “You sure you won’t need me inside, Aunt Letha?”
    Letha gave a low chuckle, she and Tony would do the rest. “The molecules will be doing all the work. Tony and I will just stand there and control it all. No one will know we’re involved. Soon as your trunk is loaded... get going. Don’t worry about us. See you later...” Sickle nodded. Then she said into the control, “Okay, Tony... let’s do a little sightseeing.”
    While Sickle turned to open the trunk of his car, Letha and her submissive charge got out of the car and walked across the street towards the museum. Tony went up the steps with her. They mounted the wide stone step, went inside and entered the museum.
    The exhibition – the theme of which was the great Gold Rush – was housed within the big square museum hall. Letha and Tony weaved their way into the maze of visitors and showpieces. At another time the inner Tony might have enjoyed it, for the displays showed everything from the panning and early production of gold to the processing and coining of it, along with the various vehicles and machinery associated with it. But he had no eyes for what was shown, for every step he took with Letha Wedge only added to his uneasiness.
    The profusion of displays dealing with the mining, processing and coining of gold cleverly captured the atmosphere of the Old West – and all in lifesize. One display depicted the entry to a mine shaft, with dummy miners guiding ore carts along the track from the tunnel mouth. Another showed a man panning for gold in a stream. Yet another depicted an assay office, with all its attendant paraphenalia. There was even a detailed reconstruction of an assay furnace. Around the hall, lifelike figures of cowboys, pioneer women and American Indians were spaced between the major exhibits. A beautiful (but sadly horseless) stagecoach added the final touch of atmosphere to a well-planned exhibition.
    Finally they reached the main part of the exhibit that was attracting everyone. The star of the show, of course, was the gold. It stood in the exact centre of the hall, a tall, shining pyramid of yellow bars, protected by a huge perspex bubble. In a circular showcase enclosed in a special plastic shield, lay a gleaming pyramid of gold bars. One glance at it explained more about gold fever than all the other displays put together. Letha’s pulse quickened at the thought that it would soon be hers. She scanned the hall to check out the security arrangements. The place was surrounded by security guards who were carefully scrutinizing the tourists who filed past.
    A posse of uniformed guards (male and female) were sprinkled at strategic points around the hall, and two or three more moved constantly among the visitors. Four others were stationed around the perspex bubble. But this wasn’t all. There were obviously complex electronic devices as well, for high up on the walls, Letha could see the narrow window of a security control box, and behind it a bank of machinery that reminded her of mission control, Houston.
    As Tony stared at the incredible pyramid of gold, Tia, who was just leaving the hideout with the Earthquakes, stopped short.
    “Gold!” she gasped. “I see gold!”
    “Where?” said Dazzler, as the others looked eagerly around. “I don’t see none.”
    “I – I don’t know where it is,” Tia said. “But it has something to do with Tony...”
    At the exhibit, Tony found himself drawn away from the pyramid of gold and his attention directed to an old stagecoach.
    Letha smiled wickedly. The security system hadn’t been built that could stand against the force of Tony’s molecule thingummy – or whatever it was Gannon said he possessed. She guided Tony into an alcove which was out of sight from the security box, a plan already forming in her mind.
    As inconspicuously as possible she lifted the control unit to her mouth. “Tony,” Letha Wedge whispered into the control unit, “we’re about to create a diversion. Look at that stagecoach’ – his eyes swivelled towards it – “I command you to make it roll around the hall and room!”
    Knowing what was coming, the inner Tony winced and wished he could be anywhere but here; then he raged because he was powerless to stop the captive Tony from doing what was ordered.
    The long, heavy shaft which ran out between the front wheels of the stagecoach, began to raise itself a foot off the floor. The big spoked wheels began to turn. A man who had been standing close to the passenger door, peering inside, let out a yell of surprise and jumped back. Slowly, creaking loudly and rattling, the stagecoach began to pick up speed and roll across the room, carving a path into the astonished crowd. People scurried out of its way, and turned to gape at it in disbelief. Someone shouted and pointed, the security guards stared goggle-eyed and suddenly everyone was staring at it as it began to circle the gold display, the perspex bubble.
    Letha was so excited that she almost dropped the control unit.
    At that moment Tia, going up the street with the Earthquakes, stopped short again.
    “I see a stagecoach!” she exclaimed. “It’s moving!”
    Rocky looked quickly around and shook his head. “I don’t see nothin’ like that.” Muscles said, “She must be tuned in on a western.”
    Over at the museum the startled security guards were already stunned, they stared openmouthed at the circling stagecoach, but refused to leave their posts at the gold display. Letha Wedge eyed them with momentary dismay. Now she must add to the confusion whilst she had the chance. Then quickly she spun Tony around to face another exhibit: the one depicting the entrance to a mine and a row of ore carts in a display of a tunnel entrance. The last cart had the dummy of a miner leaning against it in a pushing position.
    “Quick, Tony,” she ordered. “Make the ore carts chase the security guards!” she commanded.
    Tony obeyed. Three metal wagons, each served by a dummy miner, detached themselves from the railway track and rolled off towards their targets. A stern-faced female guard squealed in anguish as one of the carts latched on to her. Frantically, she tried to outrun it, but it was much too fast for her. She turned and leapt sideways, but misjudged her footing and went sailing backwards into another display. The dummy kneeling by a stream suddenly found its sifting pan full of 130 pounds of struggling security guard.
    Tony did so. The dummy of the man panning for gold suddenly rose to its feet, jerking its pan and the woman guard inside it high into the air. She flung her arms about its neck for support. A few yards away, a dummy Indian sprang to life and strode boldly into the crowd, tomahawk raised. More and more of the manikins were energized. One of the guards found himself threatened by a cowboy with a shotgun and took to his heels, only to find himself headed off by one of the flying ore carts. It scooped him up and shot off into the mouth of the mine shaft.
    Letha stifled an evil laugh. The museum was in uproar. But there was yet more fun to be had.
    To the inner Tony, watching the ore carts begin to roll, scattering the security guards and everyone in their path, this was the beginning of complete pandemonium and madness. For in the next breath Letha Wedge was commanding that all the dummies and everything movable in the place be activated. “Activate the dummies,” she ordered.
    Tony did so. This shocked the inner Tony, for there were dummies everywhere in the exhibit: gold panners, old-time cowboys, frontier settlers, and even a cigar-store Indian with a raised tomahawk. One by one they came to life and began moving about, adding to the growing confusion. The dummy of the man panning for gold suddenly rose to its feet, jerking its pan and the woman guard inside it high into the air. She flung her arms about its neck for support. A few yards away, a dummy Indian sprang to life and strode boldly into the crowd, tomahawk raised. More and more of the manikins were energized. One of the guards found himself threatened by a cowboy with a shotgun and took to his heels, only to find himself headed off by one of the flying ore carts. It scooped him up and shot off into the mouth of the mine shaft.
    In seconds the place was in an uproar. The crowd didn’t know what to expect next. Was this a publicity stunt, a mass hallucination, or had the world gone mad? Many of them decided not to wait and find out. Consequently, the two exit doors became rapidly clogged with milling, shouting people. High up in his control box, the security controller looked down into the body of the hall, absolutely aghast. Below him, the stagecoach thundered on and on around the gold display, the ore carts zigzagged across the floor, and the dummies chased after his startled guards. He closed his eyes and shook his head to try and make the nightmare go away.
    The inner Tony trembled, for Letha Wedge had only begun to give orders, and he dreaded to think what the next few minutes would be like.
    With an effort he managed to turn his inner vision away from the increasingly mad scene that the captive Tony was being forced to create, and tried to imagine himself back at Witch Mountain. Instead he received a series of sudden flashes, none of them very clear, that showed Tia first, and then Dr. Gannon.
    Tia seemed to be heading for the museum with a gang of boys, which made no sense whatever. On the other hand, a very angry Dr. Gannon, who had come home early, was also headed for the museum. This meant trouble piled upon trouble.

Chapter 6: Utter Madness. The Heist
    For the third time since leaving the hide-out with the Earthquakes to search for Tony, Tia stopped abruptly. Her fingers went to her forehead as she caught glimpses of objects in her mind.
    “Gold!” yelled Tia.
    By now, the Earthquakes were growing accustomed to these sudden aberrations. When this particular one occurred, they were out searching the streets as usual, no more than half a mile from the city museum. They paused to see if Tia could maintain the contact this time.
    “I can see gold...” repeated Tia, concentrating, “and wait... yes... there’s also a stagecoach.”
    “Must be tuned into a western,” Muscles surmised, nudging Rocky playfully.
    Dazzler gestured for the gang to be quiet. It had been more than a day since Tia had last made contact with her brother, and he didn’t want her to lose it now.
    “I can see... dummies,” continued Tia. Muscles was about to point out that he didn’t need to close his eyes to see the three dummies standing next to him, but thought better of it. Tia was clearly on to something now.
    “I’m seeing... old things,” she said, eyes closed. “There’s old clothing... long dresses... bonnets... ,” she muttered.
    Dazzler snapped his fingers. “That Tony, he’s at the Salvation Army!”
    “Aw,” said Crusher and shook his head, “they don’t got stagecoaches at the Salvation Army,” he reminded.
    “And they don’t got gold neither,” Rocky added.
    Dazzler shrugged in reluctant agreement. Where in the world might two such unlikely items be found together? He racked his brain for a solution. He hadn’t thought so hard since he was at school. Hang on – that was it, he had the answer! “Wait a minute... wait a minute!” said Dazzler. “I’ve got it!” he cried, jumping into the air. “That lousy school we go to... we had one of them nothin’ class trips to the museum...”
    Muscles’ eyes lit up. “I remember that trip,” Muscles interrupted and told him. “I played hookey from it.”
    “They got a big pile of gold there,” continued Dazzler, “and a stagecoach!” he exclaimed. “They hadda chase me outta it!”
    Tia was suddenly excited. Tia bubbled over with excitement. At last she had pinpointed Tony’s location! Her eyes, which had been so dull and vacant for the last two days, now held the glint of renewed hope. She grabbed Dazzler by the arm. “Let’s get going!” she demanded. “We’ve got to go there!” she cried.
    “Then let’s go!” said Dazzler. “Follow me!” He started off at a run, with Tia and the others close behind.
    As one, the Earthquakes turned and ran off down the street. Only Rocky grimaced at the thought of their half-mile dash to the museum. “Aw,” he moaned, “Aaaah... it’s too educational... this all sounds too edjacational to me.” Rocky complained, but he hurried along after the rest.
    * * *
    Tia and the Earthquakes had just started for the museum when Dr. Gannon, having finished his business earlier than expected, arrived back at Letha Wedge’s house on the hill. No one answered his call when he entered, and there was still no answer when he reached the laboratory. With rising uneasiness he rushed to Tony’s room, saw the empty cot, and discovered that the control unit was missing from the table. Furious now, he ran back into the laboratory, knocking instruments and parts to the floor as he searched wildly for the control unit. Not finding it, he tore into Letha’s study. Almost immediately he noticed the photograph on her desk – a picture of the gold bars. It told him all he needed to know.
    “The museum!” he gasped. “The fool! The utter fool!”
    Shaking with rage and sudden anxiety – for Letha could ruin all their plans – he raced outside and got into his car.
    Long before Dr. Gannon came in sight of the place, the museum was in an uproar. Chaos reigned at the museum. Tourists, attendants, and guards were running around frantically trying to stop the wildly moving ore carts and stagecoach, and succeeding only in colliding with each other or in being knocked aside by the moving dummies. These, in their costumes, seemed like a group of people of another era who had invaded the museum and were trying to take it over. The miner pushing an ore cart was grimly charging a guard with it, while the cigar-store Indian, with raised tomahawk, was striking terror at every turn. The diversion was working even better than Letha had dared hope – but there was still more to do before entering upon the next phase of her plan.
    Letha Wedge, as if not satisfied with the present havoc, drew Tony’s attention to a large glass window high on the wall above the display of gold. The security controller, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, was standing before the glass, staring down at the pandemonium. As Letha Wedge pointed to him, he whirled and leaped to the banks of security equipment behind him and grasped a knob.
    “Quick, Tony!” Letha ordered. “Make the security system break down!”
    The inner Tony winced as the captive Tony carried out the order. Tony’s head lifted. Up in the security box, the controller had snapped out of his momentary inaction and was reaching for a switch on his bank of instruments. Once thrown, it would activate a hydraulic mechanism which would lower the gold bars into the basement, safe from any attempted robbery. Tony’s energizing power, however, was as fast as the speed of thought. The controller could do nothing but stare in horror as his equipment began to disintegrate around him. Abruptly the banks of security equipment began going to pieces and falling apart. A blizzard of electrical components, metal fragments and tangled wires blew swiftly through the security box, accompanied by a deluge of sparks. They collapsed on the floor in a pile of junk. Five seconds later all that remained of his sophisticated instrumentation was a pile of unrecognizable, smouldering junk. The incredulous controller picked himself up off the floor, still clutching the switch he had been holding before the explosion. The controller was left with a knob in his hand.
    Down on the floor of the hall the bright flash of red light behind the security-box window had given Letha yet another idea. Next Letha pointed to the assay furnace where ore was tested. “Ignite it!” she said. “Hurry!” she demanded.
    ~Oh, no! No!~ the inner Tony cried soundlessly. ~Haven’t you done enough?~ But the cry went unheard, for already the captive Tony swung to face his next target and obligingly had ignited the furnace. Abruptly, the reconstruction furnace flared into life. It was flaring high. Three security guards, momentarily escaping from the charging ore trucks, shouted in alarm and made feeble attempts to put out the flame. Two guards rushed to extinguish it, but found themselves intercepted by the scuttling ore carts. There was no time to dodge out of the way. The guards were toppled sideways into the carts and carried off around the hall, legs thrashing the air.
    The museum by now had become a madhouse.
    Meanwhile, one of their colleagues had decided to try his luck at stopping the stagecoach. It was rolling fast enough now for the wheel-spokes to have disappeared in a blur, but that didn’t deter him. Showing tremendous fitness for his middle years, the guard bounded across the hall on an interception course that brought him just a yard or so in front of the runaway stage. His timing was good. As the stage drew level, he reached out and grabbed for a hold. His fingers locked around the edge of the driving-seat and he hauled himself up into position. So far, so good, he thought. John Wayne couldn’t have done better himself. But now what? He snatched up the reins and heaved on them, but it seemed to have no effect. How could it, when there were no horses to respond to his tugging? Suddenly, the guard heard a loud thud behind him and twisted around. What he saw was enough to make him forget all about his problems with the reins. Hanging on to the back of the stagecoach, tomahawk thrust forward, was the dummy Indian. Its war-painted face sent a chill down his spine. As he watched, horrified, it began to inch slowly towards him across the roof. He searched hurriedly for some kind of weapon with which to defend himself, but found nothing. In desperation, he grabbed for his peaked cap, with the intention of throwing it. But it had long since parted company with him and what came off in his right hand was a small mop of dark brown hair: his toupee. There was nothing else for it; the Indian was getting closer. Panic-stricken, the guard tossed his toupee at the dummy and jumped for it. He hit the floor, scrambled to his feet and raced off towards the exit. He’d had enough. They’d told him he’d been hired to look after a pile of gold, not to fight hostile Indians!
    Back on top of the stagecoach, the dummy Indian’s tomahawk had claimed its first scalp.
    The dummy cowboys were creating their share of havoc, too. In one corner of the hall, two of them with shotguns had rounded up a whole group of security guards, who held their hands high in abject surrender.
    The pandemonium was at its peak. People rushed everywhere. The stage thundered round and round. The ore carts whizzed to and fro. The guards struggled with the dummies. The assay furnace flared. And to cap it all, the electronic security system had been completely blown out of commission. It was total confusion.
    Now, Letha decided, it was time for phase two. Methodically, she directed her young partner’s gaze towards the central exhibit. Letha Wedge clutched Tony’s arm and indicated the gleaming pyramid of metal behind the plastic shield.
    “The gold!” she cried, her voice quavering with excitement. “The gold! This is our chance to get it out! Tony’ she purred, “I want you to make a hole in the perspex shield so the bars can come through. It doesn’t have to be neat.”
    ~You can’t do it!~ the inner Tony said prayerfully, as the captive Tony concentrated on the plastic. ~You’re not a human ray gun! No one’s ever taught you~... Then his plea turned into a silent groan as a section of the plastic suddenly began to bend and bubble.
    As if hit by some invisible heat ray, the top of the transparent plastic dome bubbled and melted away to form a ragged hole. Slowly the section dissolved, leaving a large hole about five feet in diameter.
    Letha could feel the gold bars already. “Now,” she directed, “Tony, levitate the gold bars!” Letha Wedge ordered excitedly. “Fly them through the air, out the front door, and deliver them to Mr. Sickle at the car! Now!”
    The inner Tony cringed and tried not to watch as the pyramid of gold became energized. Slowly, smoothly, suddenly the bar on top of the pyramid rose upwards, moved through the air and out of the hole in the perspex shield, and across the room over the heads of the people toward the front door. It soared gracefully across the hall towards the exit. A second gold bar rose and followed the first. A third bar and then a fourth followed the others, and more came on from behind. At intervals of about five yards, the others began to follow on. Evenly spaced a few yards apart, they zoomed over the careening stagecoach and flew out of the door, which automatically swung open as they approached. The security guards (those who were still on their feet) couldn’t believe their eyes. Self-propelled stagecoaches were one thing – but flying gold bars?
    A happily amazed Letha Wedge hugged herself and cried gaily, “Las Vegas, here we come!”
    It was at this moment that Tia and the Earthquakes arrived outside the museum. They were rounding the corner near the museum when the gleaming line of gold bars came through the door. They saw it dip down over the flight of steps to the street and snake away to the spot where Sickle’s car was parked. At the sight of it they stopped abruptly and stared at it incredulously, not immediately sure what it was or what was happening. They paused for a second to crane their necks in amazement as the wealth of precious metal passed overhead. They made out Sickle in the distance attempting to catch the bars and put them in the trunk of his car.
    Outside on the sidewalk, Sickle rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the first of the bars came into sight. He was standing by the open trunk of the Ford, ready and waiting to load up, as instructed. “Come on, millions!” he whispered delightedly as the first bar sailed smoothly down towards him. He reached out and caught it easily in his right hand. He misjudged the weight, however, and it threw him just a little off-balance. From that moment onwards, things started to go wrong.
    By the time he recovered and turned to place the bar in the trunk, the second one was almost upon him. Quickly, he transferred the first bar to his left hand and caught the second with his right. But he almost dropped it. Evidently the weight of them was more than he could handle, for he kept staggering about dropping them while trying to dodge others that hit him. Before he could load either of the bars, number three came gliding down and thudded into his ribcage. He yelped with pain and tried to cradle the gold bars in his arms, but things were getting out of control, they were coming too fast. Then the fourth bar drove solidly into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Then, as they rained upon him, he lost his balance. Thrown completely off-balance, he fell back against the car, accidently slamming the trunk lid closed without having placed a single bar inside.
    Now he was really in trouble. More and more bars were filing through the air towards him, and as yet he hadn’t loaded a single one. He twisted round and began struggling madly to re-open the trunk. Another bar punched into his right shoulder. Wincing with pain, he turned just in time to avoid the next, which landed with a hefty crunch on the lid of the trunk. The following bar came in at head-height. He ducked just in time, but was unable to stop the bar crashing right through the rear window. It smashed the rear window, continued and sailed on all the way through the car and, smashing out the windshield, finally came to a metal-denting halt on the hood, falling on the hood and denting it badly. By this time the slow machine-gun volley of gold was unstoppable. Sickle fought frantically to protect himself from the battering bars, but it was a battle he couldn’t hope to win. Now it almost seemed that he was being attacked by the bars, for they pelted him and slammed upon the car, denting the sides and the trunk. Gold bars were flying every which way.
    Inside the museum, Letha was about to make her nephew’s predicament worse. The pyramid of gold bars had been reduced by about a third now, but it wasn’t moving fast enough for her liking. Then Letha’s gaiety changed to nervousness as she stood watching the slow movement of the bars through the door. Suddenly realizing how long it would take to move all the gold a bar at a time, her hands clenched and she ordered, “Faster, Tony! Faster! Tony,” she commanded, “get the rest of it out there faster! Get the rest of it out there together!”
    Obediently, Tony energized the remainder of the gold. The lower bulk of the pyramid rose as a mass into the air, lifted clear of the plastic shield, smashed a larger hole through the plastic shield, began its journey out of the hall, and sailed away over the heads of the shouting guards and the gaping and bewildered onlookers. It followed the last bar through the open door into the street and vanished outside towards the beleaguered Sickle...
    * * *
    Suddenly Tia realized what was going on. Tia was the first to react. “That – that’s gold!” she cried. “And it has to be Tony who’s making it fly out like that. Tony’s here!” she exclaimed. “He’s inside! I know it!”
    Without further ado, she bounded on up the museum steps and began threading her way through the crowd to the main hall. The Earthquakes raced after her.
    “C’mon!” said Dazzler. “I sure wanna see this Tony!”
    They raced along the street and dashed up the flight of steps to the museum. Inside they stopped short, looking about incredulously.
    Inside the hall, the youngsters came to a halt.
    “Hey – look out lady!” shouted Rocky. A woman dressed in a large, heavy skirt and an old-fashioned hat almost pushed him over as she pressed towards the door. “Why don’cha watch where you’re...” Rocky’s voice trailed off as he caught sight of the woman’s face. It was fixed in a cold unmoving stare. In fact, her whole body was as rigid as her face. She was a dummy.
    Rocky’s eyes popped wide and he leapt backwards, throwing his arms around Crusher’s neck. Crusher tried to fight him off. Muscles and Dazzler just stood frozen to the spot, totally amazed at what was going on.
    The pandemonium was now at its height. Men were shouting and women were screaming, and the stagecoach and the ore carts and everything that could move were racing madly about without rhyme or reason. Some attendants had managed to get aboard the stagecoach and were trying in vain to stop it by straining on the brakes. Other people were throwing benches and chairs in the path of the racing ore carts, while groups of guards – those who had not been laid low by previous violence – were fighting the costumed dummies to prevent them from running amok with shotgun, pickaxe, or tomahawk, as they seemed bent upon doing.
    It might have been a scene from a nightmare.
    The four Earthquakes could only stare at it with glazed eyes, for once utterly speechless. But Tia, immediately upon entering, knew exactly what had happened – and what to do about it. It was quite clear to Tia who was responsible for such confusion.
    Tia, however, reacted with lightning speed. She closed her eyes and clenched her slender hands tightly. Reversing the molecular flow, she threw the master switch on Tony’s mischievous activities. Everything that had been under her brother’s control was abruptly de-energized.
    Alarms began to ring for the first time. The stagecoach and the ore carts coasted to a stop, the badly jolted men on it still straining at the brake. Tia concentrated harder. The roving dummies froze. Life went out of the gyrating costumed figures and they became motionless dummies again. The rattling ore carts stopped and from the last one crawled an angry and disheveled guard who shook his fist at the lifeless dummy of a miner that had been pushing it. Tia made a last desperate effort, the fire died in the assay furnace, and all around it the mad confusion began to quiet.
    The sudden inaction took everybody by surprise. Guards and visitors came to a stunned standstill. For a long moment they were all quite uncertain how to react. People shook their heads, looked at each other and gasped, “What in the world happened?”
    The first to ask that question was a suddenly shaken Letha Wedge. She looked quickly at Tony, and demanded, “What happened?” asked Letha disbelievingly.
    In his peculiarly wooden voice the captive Tony said, “The molecular flow has been reversed,” came Tony’s computer-like response.
    Letha seemed shocked. “D – did you do it?”
    “No.”
    “Then – then who did?”
    “It would have to be one of my people.”
    The shock in Letha’s face was swiftly changing to fright. Letha frowned. “You – you mean there are more like you?” she queried. An edge of concern had crept into her voice.
    “Yes.”
    “Yes.”
    Oh no, thought Letha. Not another Tony. She couldn’t afford complications at this stage – not after having engineered such a perfect robbery. Not when she had three million beautiful dollars almost within her grasp. Letha swallowed, then said grimly, “Let’s get out of here!” she called, pulling Tony towards the exit.
    She seized Tony’s arm and rushed toward the door.
    That was when Tia caught sight of her brother for the first time since she had lost him three days ago. Tia, standing with the Earthquakes just to the right of the entrance, happened to turn her head and see Tony and Letha Wedge hurrying toward the exit door on the left.
    “There he is!” she cried, and ran to intercept Tony before the rapacious-looking woman with him could draw him outside. “Tony! Tony!” she yelled.
    Without stopping, Tony and Letha turned their heads, and Letha asked quickly, “Who’s that?” said Letha, turning in the direction of Tia’s shout. On the far side of the hall, she could make out the diminutive figure of a blonde-haired girl, looking imploringly across towards them. Tony didn’t answer immediately. As Letha watched, a faint glimmer of recognition flickered across his face. He put a hand to his forehead, as if in pain. Somewhere deep down in his subconscious, his will struggled to break free. “My sister...” he said haltingly. “My sister, Tia,” the captive Tony answered woodenly. “My sister Tia.” At the same time the inner Tony cried out joyfully, ~Tia! Tia! I’m so glad you’re here! This woman has me in her control. Take me away from her!~
    Tia could not hear the silent plea, but she felt something without quite knowing what it was. Before she could decide what to do, Letha snapped, “This is no time for family reunions!” and turning quickly, hustled, forcibly herded Tony out of the hall and out the door.
    Behind them, Tia was crestfallen. She couldn’t understand why her brother hadn’t responded to her. It wasn’t like him at all. And who was that strange woman who was telling him what to do? “Tony, it’s me!” called Tia and started after her brother at a run, with the Earthquakes hard on her heels.
    People were already crowding to the exit, and Tia suddenly found her way blocked by a succession of broad backs she could see neither over nor around.
    “Tony!” she shrilled. “Tony! Tony!”
    Desperately she began fighting her way through the door, yet even with the Earthquakes helping, it was some time before she gained the steps outside. Tony and the woman who had him by the arm had already reached the street and were racing toward the car she’d seen earlier being battered by the gold bars.
    “Hurry!” she cried to the Earthquakes. “We’ve got to catch them! Something’s wrong! That woman...”
    * * *
    Outside, Letha and Tony came to a sudden halt at the top of the steps. Across the street, their getaway car looked more like a relic from a demolition derby than the stylish saloon it had once been. The big Ford squatted low on its suspension, wheels splayed outwards under the crushing weight of the pyramid of gold bars that now sat untidily on the trunk lid.
    The windows were shattered and the doors, wings, roof and hood were peppered with huge dents. Sickle’s car had been thoroughly crushed and ruined by the rain of gold bars, and Sickle himself, who had not been nimble enough to dodge all the gold that came his way, was on the ground struggling to get up. The final flight of bars was on top of the wrecked car, neatly stacked in a pyramid. Underneath the car, just visible amongst the debris, lay Sickle, with hands clasped protectively over his head.
    At the sight of the scattered gold and the wreck, Letha Wedge stopped as if she had been shot. Her mouth came open and she could only stare incredulously at this undreamed-of ruination of her plans. Letha gaped stupidly. Now what? Without transport, there could be no hope of getting away. Soon, the police would be here and then...
    Her hands trembled and she struggled to speak, but before words could come, she was further shaken by a car that came screeching to a stop beyond the wreck.
    Dr. Gannon leaped out and ran around to the front of his car, then stiffened with an oath and stared grimly at the gold and the wreckage.
    “You fool!” The voice rang out like a rifle shot above the background noises of confusion and clanging bells. There was no mistaking the deep, authoritative tone. Looking up and seeing her, Dr. Gannon’s mouth twisted wrathfully. “You fool!” he snapped. Letha turned to meet the cold stare of Victor Gannon, who had one foot on the bottom of the steps. He looked as if he might explode at any moment. “How could you do this?” he boomed angrily.
    Letha didn’t know whether to feel fear or relief. How had Gannon traced her here? She checked herself; the question was unimportant, at least for the time being. Letha was suddenly brought to her senses by the sound of Tia calling frantically to Tony. The pressing issue was getting away, and Letha could see their sleek Citroen parked just a few yards farther down the street. “Not now!” Letha said hoarsely. “We’ll argue later,” she said, coming down the steps. “Let’s get going. Tony’s sister is right behind us.”
    With a quick glance over her shoulder that took in Tia as well as the questionable gang with her, she gave Tony’s arm a jerk and ran toward the doctor’s car.
    Gannon was taken aback, confused. He was furious with Letha for abducting Tony, but even he could see that this was not the time or place to vent his rage. He fell in with Letha’s suggestion, and the three of them made hurried tracks towards the Citroen.
    She ran to the rear door of his car, jerked it open, and hustled Tony and the doctor inside. At the same time, a bruised and battered Sickle emerged from beneath the Ford, and, on his feet now, sped across the street to join them and was staggering toward the car. She thrust him into the driver’s seat and got in beside him. “If you’re able to drive,” she said urgently, “get going! Hurry!”
    A second later, Tia and the Earthquakes stumbled out of the museum and came to a halt on the steps. “Tony!” called Tia desperately, “Tony! Tony!” But it was no use. Her brother was paying no attention to her urgent cries. Worse still, there was no chance of catching up with him now, as he was being bundled hastily into a shiny black limousine, some fifty yards down the street.
    The doors of the Citroen slammed shut. Sickle was behind the wheel (his accustomed place) and Letha was beside him. Gannon and Tony settled into the back seat. As Sickle fumbled with the ignition keys, Letha’s eyes fell on the handful of photographs that were lying on top of the dashboard. So that was it. Gannon must have returned early to the house, found Tony missing, and gone to see if Letha was in her Study. Then he had found the photographs of the museum on her desk, and simply put two and two together. Well, thought Letha philosophically, perhaps it was just as well he had. Without the Citroen, the three of them would have been dead ducks by now for sure.
    Sickle bent over the wheel, his mouth thinning. He gunned the motor, which was still running, and they pulled away from the museum with tires screaming.
    No one thought to look back, so no one saw Tia run to the edge of the sidewalk and concentrate upon them. Suddenly, the car’s motor began to sputter. The car slowed, the motor died, and they coasted to a stop.
    Sickle turned the key and the big, powerful engine purred into life. He slammed the gear lever into first, gunned the revs, and took his foot off the clutch. But nothing happened. There was no surge of power, no squeal of tyres. Just a quiet spluttering noise, a jolt, and then... standstill. Sickle grimaced in irritation. He reached forward and twisted the key again. Nothing.
    “What the devil’s the matter?” the doctor demanded.
    “I – I don’t know!” Sickle told him. “I keep this car runnin’ perfect!” answered Sickle, perplexed.
    It was true. What Sickle lacked in the way of grey matter, he made up for in mechanical know-how. He always kept the Citroen’s engine tuned to perfection. He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong.
    Letha had figured it out, however. For the past few seconds, she had been looking in the rear-view mirror, and now she twisted around to jab a finger at Tony, whose face was as expressionless as ever. “It’s his sister,” she proclaimed. “It has to be Tony’s sister!” Letha cried. “She did it! She’s as weird as he is!”
    Dr. Gannon jerked around and stared out of the rear window. His jaws knotted. He could see that Letha was right. It was hard to believe, but the slim, freckle-faced young girl standing on the museum steps was actually preventing their vehicle from moving! Well, no matter. He held the remedy in his hands. He turned back and, lifting the control unit to his mouth, he said harshly, “Tony... I command you to make the motor of this car run perfectly and continuously, without interference from your sister.”
    No sooner said than done. With alarming suddenness, the engine roared with power. The inner Tony begged, ~No! No! Leave the motor alone! This is our chance to get away!~ The captive Tony hesitated, as if he was faintly aware that something was not as it should be. But the command won out. Slowly he energized the motor. It sputtered back to life, then roared with power. The car shot forward, nearly giving the passengers whiplash. Even Sickle’s sensitive foot on the clutch couldn’t prevent the car from taking off like a souped-up rocket. The Citroen catapulted down the street, throwing its passengers back into their seats with the force of its acceleration.
    Dr. Gannon looked through the rear window again. He smiled grimly at the sight of the small girl standing at the edge of the street behind him, hands tightly clenched. Then the smile faded as he turned away, and sat tugging uneasily at his chin.
    Tia and the Earthquakes stood watching helplessly as it sped into the distance. At this range, Tony’s control over the car’s engine far outweighed Tia’s. She sighed in frustration. A minute ago, she had almost been close enough to touch him, but now she was back where she started.

Chapter 7: The Chase
    Tia had run into the street, trying with all her power to again stop the car that was taking Tony away. It had been easy the first time, and she’d managed it without effort. But now it was impossible to do a thing.
    “I can’t stop them!” she wailed. “Tony must have taken over. I – I can’t understand...”
    The Earthquakes had crowded around her, watching the car with Tony in it recede in the distance. No one noticed the Board of Education minibus passing them on the opposite side of the street, but the driver saw them. He raced to the corner, made a quick turn, and raced back, and came to a screeching stop just behind Tia and the Earthquakes.
    Luck, or a change of fortune, can sometimes arrive in the strangest guises. Like finding out that a dreaded visit to the dentist occurs on the same afternoon as that tough history test your class is having at school. Or sorting out some old jeans in which to clean up the backyard, and coming across a dollar in the hip pocket.
    In Tia’s case, luck appeared in the unlikely shape of Mr Yokomoto’s Board of Education minibus, which turned the corner at the end of the street at almost the precise instant that Gannon’s Citroen zoomed past it. Tia saw its usefulness in a flash – although the Earthquakes weren’t quite as happy about it.
    Yoyo’s hair practically stood on end along with his vehicle, as Tia de-energized the engine, bringing it to a sudden, screeching standstill in front of the museum. “C’mon,” she said sharply, and headed down the steps, beckoning for the boys to follow her.
    “You crazy?” called Rocky, hesitating. Asking the Earthquakes to run towards a truant officer was like asking a mouse to run towards a cat. “We don’t wanna go to school!” said Crusher horrified.
    Tia turned. She could see by the bewildered expressions that the Earthquakes thought she had gone bananas. And she couldn’t blame them. “Trust me,” she appealed urgently, “please trust me.”
    Dazzler shrugged. Tia hadn’t let them down so far, why should she now? It looked crazy, sure, but then everything Tia was involved in seemed crazy. He started down the steps, and the others fell in behind him.
    The Earthquakes jumped with fright and spun around, but before anyone could quite comprehend what was happening, the burly little driver was out of the bus in a flash and had collared Crusher and Muscles.
    “Gotcha!” he snapped, a look of grim delight on his round, bulldoggish face. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment!”
    Tia recognized the truant officer, Mr. Yokomoto, but for seconds, with her anguished attention on the car taking Tony away, she was only partially aware that the Earthquakes were in trouble.
    Crusher was yelling, “Leggo! Ouch! Help! I don’t wanna go to school!” And skinny Muscles was squealing and making desperate but utterly useless attempts to break the iron grip that held him.
    Then a frightened and confused Dazzler suddenly caught Tia’s arm and begged, “C-can’t you do something?”
    Tia turned around and faced Mr. Yokomoto, who in turn gave her the sort of pleased look that a hungry wolverine might have bestowed upon an extra rabbit.
    “Okay, Miss,” he bit out. “Why aren’t you in school?”
    Tia glanced at the minibus, and her eyes turned quickly to the car with Tony in it, which was almost out of sight in the distance. Then she looked again at the minibus.
    Suddenly she nodded as if coming to a decision, and said quickly, “Okay – everybody into the bus! Hurry!”
    The Earthquakes groaned and Rocky burst out, “You crazy?” Dazzler begged, “D-don’t do this to us, Tia!”
    Tia smiled and ignored them. She tugged back the door of the minibus and the gang hopped in. Yoyo was sitting motionless at the wheel. His pouchy face was popeyed and incredulous. “I’m dreaming,” he mused, as the youngsters filed past him towards the seats. “Are you kids surrendering to the Board of Education?”
    Nobody said anything. Tia didn't want to spoil Yoyo’s dream, so the truant officer looked, and she said to Mr. Yokomoto: “Sir, Mr Yokomoto – do you see that big dark car going down ’way up the street – it’s just now stopping at the red light?? Well, my brother’s in it, and he ought to be in school, too. We, you should catch up with him.”
    Yoyo’s face lit up. “Another truant, eh?” he beamed, hardly able to believe his ears. The burly little officer grinned. “Whatta load this’ll be!” He reached forward and turned on the engine. He began to turn the wheel to bring the minibus around in a U turn.
    Tia exchanged hurried glances with the boys and gave a little jerk of her head. The Earthquakes got the idea and scrambled aboard.
    Mr. Yokomoto followed quickly, the smug grin still on his face. Tia, however, knew a quicker way to get started. Before Yoyo had started to move off and even he could settle in his seat, she had taken control of the minibus. Tia energized the motor and the gear shift. Energized, the vehicle suddenly span round on its own axis to face in the other direction. Roaring like an unleashed tiger, it jumped forward as if it had been given a violent push and hurtled off down the street after the Citroen, with Yoyo clinging to the steering wheel for dear life.
    “Hey, wait a minute!” the officer cried, grabbing desperately at the wheel. “Hey – what’s going on?” he protested. Behind him, the Earthquakes exchanged knowing glances. They knew now that Yoyo’s minibus wouldn’t be going anywhere near the school – at least not while Tia was intent on catching her brother.
    “We can’t let my brother get away,” Tia reminded him, and energized the accelerator pedal.
    With a sudden wild roar and the smell of burning rubber, the minibus was virtually catapulted down the street. The bus was moving at tremendous speed. It shot through an intersection where a green light mysteriously flashed on when it should have stayed red, then whipped around a corner on one wheel without changing speed or angle, and tore down another street as if pursued by demons. Whole blocks flashed by in a blur of concrete and glass. Second by second it crept closer to the black car ahead.
    In no time at all they were drawing close enough to their quarry to make out the licence plates Even Yoyo was starting to enjoy the ride. Somehow, he had convinced himself that he was back in command of the minibus, and was bent over the wheel like a maniac, eyes bright with exhilaration. “Hey, this thing can really move,” he said with pride in his voice. The youngsters grinned. They were pleased to see that even an old sour-puss like Yoyo could get carried away once in a while.
    Though Tia was in complete control, this did nothing to ease the fears of the Earthquakes, who cowered in the seats behind her. Once Mr. Yokomoto, frightened out of his wits by a machine that seemed to have gone quite mad, tried to turn off the motor and apply the brakes. But nothing worked as it should, and the minibus raced on. Mr. Yokomoto clung to the wheel, too busy to think, grimly fighting his way through traffic as if every second might be his last. More than once, when a collision seemed impossible to avoid, the wheel spun through his hands in spite of his grip upon it, and the minibus leaped to safety without even a scratch in its paint.
    It was not until the black car was close enough for her to clearly see Tony in the back seat, that Tia felt her first tremor of uneasiness. Though she had no idea what means had been used to change Tony into the stranger he had become, it was obvious that he was completely in the power of the people with him. He must do exactly what they told him.
    As she thought ahead, trying to guess what moves they might possibly make to prevent her from overtaking them, she realized with a sudden wave of fear that they might order Tony to wreck the minibus. He could do it so very easily, and almost in a flash – unless she was extremely watchful.
    But Yoyo’s heady enjoyment was about to be rudely curtailed. Suddenly she saw the man glare back at her through the rear window of his car, then speak quickly to Tony. ~Here it comes!~ she thought.
    Up ahead in the Citroen, Gannon had turned Tony’s head so that he could see their pursuers. “That minibus is chasing us,” he said evenly. “I command you to place obstacles in its path.”
    There was no time for Yoyo to take evasive action. Ahead of the black car Tia made out a cement truck parked on the right. She clenched her teeth and quickly energized the safety belts. They snaked forth and buckled themselves around the occupants of the minibus just as the cement truck shot out from its parking spot as the black car Citroen passed and roared past a building site. A bare three seconds ahead of the minibus, a large, very solidlooking cement truck glided out from its parking space to interpose itself between pursuer and pursued.
    The Earthquakes gasped, and Rocky yelled, “Look out!” The Earthquakes yelled and dived for cover behind the seats as they saw the cement truck come to a halt broadside across the road.
    There was no way Yoyo could stop the minibus in time; a collision was inevitable. Mr. Yokomoto froze at the wheel, eyes popping at the sight of inescapable doom. Tia had already energized the wheel, and now she made it spin through his hands.
    Then, at the last moment, Tia averted disaster. The steering wheel span out of Yoyo’s grasp and the minibus swerved violently, bouncing up on to the sidewalk. But Tia had been a split second too slow and the near offside end of the bus slammed into the cement truck with a bone-jarring crunch. There was a sound of rending metal and a long, jagged hole was torn in the minibus’ bodywork.
    Yoyo let out a long, agonized moan. “City property!” he wailed. “I’ve damaged City property!” He looked as if he were about to cry.
    Fortunately though, the angle of impact had been shallow and the bus powered on through the gap and bumped back down on to the tarmac, rejoining the chase. It sped away up the street. The minibus swerved hard, and might have made it if the street had been wider with less traffic on it. But there was a sudden bang and an ugly tearing sound as the rear corner hit the end of the truck, and a section of the minibus was ripped open like a tin can. Part of it hung down behind and could be heard dragging on the street.
    Mr. Yokomoto risked a backward glance and gave a horrified yelp. “City property!” he squealed, his voice rising as he grasped the enormity of what he had done. “I’ve damaged city property!”
    Tia bit her lip, but she had no time for him. She righted the skidding minibus, sent it roaring after the black car, and tried to keep her mind alert to what the stranger that was Tony would probably do next.
    The Earthquakes poked their heads cautiously over the back of the seats. They couldn’t believe it. Somehow, they were all still in one piece. But they had little time in which to celebrate their survival, for up ahead Tony was placing yet another obstacle in their path. Suddenly, they all went very white and ducked down again.
    The moment she saw the big city bus approaching on the other side of the street, she had a feeling Tony would attempt to do something with it. He did, for abruptly the big bus veered into their path. It swung broadside, blocking the entire street.
    “Oh no...” said Yoyo pleadingly. He watched in horror as a fifty-foot long school bus swung out from the kerb, to stretch across the width of the road. This time it would be impossible to swerve around, for there were vehicles parked bumper-to-bumper along both sides of the road. This was it, thought Yoyo. How ironic that it should be a school bus which was going to end his career! He covered his face with his arms, and waited for the impact.
    It didn’t come. Two seconds dragged by that seemed like an eternity.
    Tia gave a little prayer that she would have power enough for the task ahead, then she swung the minibus to the rear of the city bus, and concentrated upon it.
    The rear end of the city bus rose jerkily into the air like an uncertain drawbridge, allowing the minibus to shoot under it. It almost made it – but not quite.
    The Earthquakes resurfaced and let out a wild cheer. “Atta girl, Tia!” yelled Crusher.
    Then Yoyo opened his eyes again. The bus had vanished! But wait... where had that long black shadow appeared from? He cast his eyes upwards. He half-knew already what he was going to see, but that didn’t make it any easier to believe. Yes. There it was! A flying school bus! He craned his neck up and around as they shot underneath it.
    Yoyo looked dazed and pale. “Was that a bus or a bridge?” he asked vacantly. But Tia didn’t have time for explanations; it was doubtful whether Yoyo would have believed the truth anyway.
    There were squeals and cries of terror as something on the underside of the larger bus caught the roof of the minibus and peeled it back as if it were a tin of sardines. The minibus sped on without diminishing speed, its roof hanging down and scraping on the paving with a loud and horrible rasping sound that put everyone’s teeth on edge.
    “I don’t believe this!” Mr. Yokomoto quavered. “It cannot happen – and it is city property! What am I going to do?” Then he pleaded, “Maybe we – we’d better let that – that truant get away!”
    Yoyo watched in amazement as the big vehicle descended gently back to earth behind them.
    The terrified Earthquakes were huddled together behind Tia, beyond speech for the moment. But a moment later they were incoherently crying out and pointing as a new obstruction was forced across their path. This time it was a tandem trailer.
    Tia, hands clenched, concentrated on the trailer coupling. It opened, and the vehicles pulled apart just in time for the minibus to squeeze through – but it was too tight a squeeze, for the sides were pulled back, leaving the occupants exposed. Tia was at the point of tears by now. Dismally she wondered how much more she and the poor minibus could take.
    Then she shook her head and managed to pull herself together, preparing for the next ordeal that she knew was bound to come. Unless, of course, she could reach the black car and somehow get Tony away from the people who had kidnapped him. Just how she would manage this she wasn’t quite sure – but with the Earthquakes and Mr. Yokomoto helping, it shouldn’t be too hard. Though the bulldoggish little truant officer wasn’t very big, she had a feeling he knew all sorts of tricks that would make him more than the equal of the men in the car ahead.
    The chase was on again, hotter than ever. Up ahead, Sickle was using some tactics of his own, trying to shake the pursuers by taking a series of sharp tyre-squealing turns through the sidestreets. But the minibus held on doggedly, slicing corners very fine to stay in touch with its more manoeuvrable quarry.
    All too often this produced a heart-stopping moment of near-collision with some innocent vehicle, but each time Tia managed to swing safely clear. Behind them, the chasing cars left a trail of black skid-marks and blaring horns.
    In spite of everything, the hound remained glued to the weaving hare. Five long minutes and much scorched rubber later, the two vehicles were running down a shallow slope towards the city railroad depot. Tia saw the Citroen’s brake-lights flicker momentarily as it whipped into a vicious left-hand turn that would take it across the double line of railroad tracks and on into the western half of town. She brought the minibus around in a similarly tight fashion, and heard the Earthquakes howl as they were thrown around behind her. Two hundred yards ahead, the Citroen was approaching the tracks. The next ordeal almost caught her unawares. Tia expected to see it slow a little to negotiate them, but it didn’t. Then she saw why. She didn’t notice the freight car parked on a siding until the black car – it had managed to get too far ahead at the moment – had crossed the railroad track. Lumbering down the line, clanking and rattling, came a long freight train. It sounded a deep-throated blast on its hooter as the Citroen shuddered across the tracks, scant yards ahead of it. Before Tia reached the track a freight car rolled swiftly out from the siding and blocked the roadway.
    Yoyo swallowed hard. Turning to Tia, he said, “That brother of yours... he really doesn’t want to go to school, does he? Maybe we better let him get away, mmmn?” He tried jamming his foot down on the brakes, but to no effect. Tia was in complete control of the minibus as it hurtled towards the long ribbon of goods trucks. The Earthquakes wondered what was going through her mind. Surely even Tia’s powers would not be enough to levitate a whole train? They weren’t, and she knew it. But her face remained calm and concentrated. She knew exactly what to do.
    It was almost too late to swerve, and Tia had only a brief second to decide that levitation was probably their best chance. The decision wouldn’t have bothered any of the oldsters at Witch Mountain; they were adept at it and with the greatest of ease could move tons at a time. But the heaviest thing she’d ever lifted alone was the rear end of the city bus somewhere behind them – and she’d really flunked that because she hadn’t lifted it high enough.
    But there wasn’t time to worry about it. Mr. Yokomoto was screaming, “I can’t control it! Look out!” And Dazzler and the others were whimpering and giving gasps of horror.
    Tia hardly heard them. Instantly, twenty-five yards before impact, she put all she had into concentrating up – and up they went. Accordingly, the minibus became airborne, came off the tarmac perfectly, nose first, sailing over the freight car at breakneck speed, as neat as you please, soared in a graceful arc above the line of trucks,and then descended down again to a perfect, sweet four-point touchdown and landing on the other side, easily and without a bounce or a jolt and with speed undiminished. Beautiful. The flight had been as smooth as a ski-jump, and Tia’s face was a picture of calm confidence.
    ~I did it!~ she thought, pleased with her achievement, though there was no one in a condition to congratulate her. Mr. Yokomoto and the Earthquakes were too limp from shock.
    “Wow,” gasped Dazzler, “if I’d known I was gonna fly today, I’d have brought along my parachute.”
    Yoyo had gone past the point of despair and had been reduced to a state of gibbering astonishment. “We flew,” he muttered to himself in a voice stretched thin as fuse wire. “We flew, we flew!”
    “They flew,” echoed Gannon, looking back from the rear of the speeding Citroen. He was thunderstruck, but couldn’t help being impressed. Tony’s sister had overcome every obstacle placed in her way. She was clearly every bit as powerful – and as clever – as her brother. Gannon’s mouth set in a hard line. His blocking tactics had proved ineffective. Very well. He must try a different stratagem. He must try to out-think his young adversary.
    Something about the man gave Tia a chill that wouldn’t go away. The man in the car ahead could only give her an astonished glare, obviously and definitely wishing she were dead. He’s the one I’ve got to watch, she told herself. The woman and the driver are scheming and greedy, but they are not really tough or smart. The smart one’s that one, and he’s tough. He’ll kill me if he gets a chance, because I’m upsetting his plans.
    The chill in her deepened into fear, and she watched the man carefully, trying to pick up his thoughts and guess what his next move would be. The minibus, in spite of its nearly wrecked condition, was creeping ever closer.
    The Citroen was approaching the brow of a hill. “Sickle,” rapped Gannon, “stop the car as soon as we are over the top.”
    Letha twisted round, looking worried. “I hope you don’t intend for us to do any flying,' she said.
    Gannon ignored her. The car breasted the hill and Sickle jammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a sliding halt against the kerb, a little way down the slope.
    The man spoke quickly to the driver, and abruptly the black car skidded around the next corner and streaked away with motor roaring on a new course. Tia’s final sight of the man was just before the black car vanished around the corner. He was talking rapidly to Tony and pointing to something ahead.
    “Tony,” continued Gannon determinedly, “you will cause the reflection of the sun on the rear window to magnify and shine so brightly that our pursuers will be blinded by it.”
    Seconds later the minibus skidded around the same corner. There was an instant when Tia glimpsed a tall building ahead whose glass sides sharply reflected the sun. But it was the briefest of glimpses, for almost immediately she was struck by a blinding light that made it impossible to see anything.
    Tia had no idea what had happened. For that matter neither did anyone else in the minibus. Three seconds after they had seen the Citroen dip out of sight, they came powering over the brow of the hill. The rear window of the Citroen, angled perfectly, exploded with an intense white light so brilliant that it almost threw Tia out of her seat. It was as if they had driven into the noiseless flash of a gigantic flashbulb. The searing light filled the windshield, blotting everything from view.
    It flashed through her mind that Tony had been ordered to magnify the sun’s reflection on the building, for nothing else could have caused such instant brilliance. Yoyo and the Earthquakes yelled in anguish and threw their hands up to shield their eyes. “Turn it off, Tia!” shouted Muscles. Desperately she tried to stop it. She might have succeeded had she been able to locate the exact spot the brilliance came from, but this was impossible. She was temporarily blinded by it, and could see nothing but glaring whiteness.
    Mr. Yokomoto cried, “I can’t see!”
    Rocky and the others yelled, “Turn it off! Turn it off!”
    She couldn’t turn off the glare, but suddenly she realized she’d better stop the speeding minibus before something terrible happened. Instantly she cut the motor and energized the brakes. The action came a moment too late, for the minibus careened into a solid structure on the left, glanced off, and sideswiped what may have been a building on the right. It bounced, tilted, and started to roll over.
    Gannon’s ruse had served its purpose. Before Tia could recover, the minibus had slewed across the street, hopelessly out of control. Still clocking fifty miles per hour, it slammed into the side of a parked truck and careered off again, back into the centre of the road. Tia saw the world tilt crazily as the minibus rolled over on to its roof. The engine shrieked. There was a wild tangle of arms and legs and loose objects. Screeching horribly, the vehicle began to slide away down the steep hill, scudding past the stationary Citroen. Tia tumbled awkwardly and banged her head on something hard. Dazed and disorientated, she was unable to use her energizing powers, and the minibus slithered on, gradually picking up speed.
    Yoyo and the Earthquakes were tossed about like rag dolls. They grabbed wildly for something to hang on to as the world flashed by upside down. Once or twice, the minibus struck the kerb and bounced off, sending itself into a half spin that dislodged any holds its passengers had managed to find. It flashed through an intersection, narrowly missing an ice-cream van and practically giving its driver heart failure.
    The hill seemed to go on for ever. Down and down slid the minibus. Eventually, after what seemed an age to Tia and her companions, the slope began to flatten out. Then there was a sharp curve to the left and it was at this point that the minibus parted with the road for the final time. It hit the kerb three-quarters on and bounced up on to the sidewalk, scything a water hydrant from its base, and ploughing on into a fifteen-foot-high wire fence that formed the perimeter of a children’s playground.
    Though held by her safety belt, Tia was flung violently to one side. Her head struck the window frame, the glaring light went out, and blackness took its place.
    A powerful column of water jetted into the air from the severed hydrant.
    The fencing provided an excellent safety net. It stretched and buckled under the force of the impact, but was strong enough to prevent the minibus from bursting through. There was a wrenching, tearing sound and then stillness. The two rear wheels of the minibus were still turning. From inside the hood there came the slow gurgle of escaping liquids.

Chapter 8: Trap
    When Tia opened her eyes, she found that the minibus had turned over on its top, for she and the others were hanging straight down by their seat belts. She realized she couldn’t have been unconscious more than a few seconds, for the wreck was still sliding over the pavement as she looked around, then it crunched slowly against a parked car and stopped.
    Mr. Yokomoto, in a voice that was far from steady, called out, “Is – is everybody okay?”
    There were mutters and exclamations. “Yeah...” “Yeah – sure.” “I’m okay.” “You kiddin’?”
    Dazzler said, “How about you, Tia?”
    Tia wanted to cry. Then she wanted to sob and bawl and furiously strike her fists on something, because they had beaten her. They’d outwitted her and won and gotten away with Tony, and all she’d managed to do was wreck the minibus.
    “Tia?” Dazzler said worriedly.
    “I – I’m fine now,” she answered, and dabbed at a tear that had started to run across her forehead. Somehow, no matter what, she was going to rescue Tony, and then settle accounts with that man and that rapacious woman who were causing so much trouble.
    This resolution made, she energized the seat belts, which obligingly unbuckled themselves and allowed everyone to tumble down to the minibus ceiling, or what was left of it.
    For a moment nothing moved. Then slowly, one of the side doors creaked open and a figure tumbled dizzily out. It was Yoyo. He turned and reached back inside to give the youngsters a helping hand. One by one they staggered out. It seemed that, apart from being bruised and badly shaken, they were all miraculously unharmed.
    “Ump!” muttered Dazzler. “This is getting rough!”
    “It’s been rough!” Muscles said weakly. “I’ve had it.”
    “So’s the bus,” Rocky told him. “Just look at it!”
    Yoyo took a step backwards to review his beloved minibus. It was a write-off. “Look what’s happened to City property,” he groaned, clamping a hand to his head. The minibus was the Board of Education’s newest vehicle – a mere two months old. Now it was a heap of junk. What was Yoyo going to tell them? The thought of his embarrassed explanations made him groan even louder.
    Mr. Yokomoto put a hand over his eyes. “I can’t bear to look – and it’s city property! Oh, no, no, no!”
    The truant officer scrambled out and stood shaking his head while he tried to assess the damage.
    The others followed uncertainly, and gathered around Tia.
    “Poor man,” said Tia, looking at Mr. Yokomoto.
    “Poor nothin’!” Dazzler muttered. “He’s the truant officer.”
    Muscles whispered, “Let’s get outa here before we end up in school.”
    They slipped quickly away. But at the corner Tia paused and looked back. Mr. Yokomoto was still standing beside the wreck of the minibus, sadly shaking his head.
    He shook his head. At least, he supposed, the day hadn’t been a total loss. “Since you kids,” he said, “have agreed to go back to school, then maybe they’ll let me...” His voice trailed off as he looked around. Tia and the Earthquakes were gone. He sprinted round to the far side of the minibus, but they weren’t there either. Turning, he was just in time to see the last of them speeding around the corner at the far end of the street.
    This just wasn’t Yoyo’s day.
    Tia swallowed. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. After all, it was entirely her fault that the minibus was wrecked. Somehow, she resolved, she’d make it up to him. Just how, she didn’t know yet, but she’d manage it.
    * * *
    That evening, back at the hideout, Tia lay alone on her bed turning the events of the day over in her mind.
    Despite all her efforts she was no nearer to being reunited with her brother. Worse still, she now knew that he had fallen under the influence of some evil partnership, and that he was being used to further their criminal interests. It explained a lot of things. It was clear now, for instance, why Tony hadn’t made contact with her in the normal way. Quite simply, he couldn’t. The villainous-looking woman and her accomplices had such a powerful hold over Tony that he was incapable of sending anything but garbled telepathic messages. Indeed, remembering back to the museum, it seemed he even had trouble recognizing his own sister! Tia shuddered as she recalled the vacant soulless look that had been in Tony’s eyes. What was it that had put it there? Had he been drugged? And what was that strange electronic gadget that the woman had been carrying? Did that have something to do with Tony’s condition? There were so many questions, and so few answers. Come tomorrow, she must try and come up with some. There was one slight lead – the big black limousine. With its darkened windows, it was the kind of car which would be recognized anywhere, and there was always the chance that one of the Earthquakes’ friends might know where it belonged.
    Tia yawned. She had expended a lot of energy today, both physical and mental, yet still her brain reeled with tortured thoughts of her brother. Finally, however, tiredness won and she dropped off into a shallow, fitfull sleep.
    * * *
    That evening, in Letha Wedge’s great Victorian mansion on the hill, Dr. Gannon angrily paced the library while he berated Letha and her nephew. Tony sat woodenly on one side, silent and motionless; but the inner Tony watched and listened with slowly growing uneasiness.
    The doctor glared at Letha, then bit out, “You jeopardized my life’s work.”
    “My accountants are desperate,” she said lightly, lifting one shoulder.
    “And you,” the doctor went on, turning grimly to Sickle, “you’ve proven your incompetence again.”
    “What d’you want from me?” Sickle muttered. “I ache all over. That gold was pounding me to a pulp.”
    Dr. Gannon swung back to Letha. He shook his head and snapped, “I don’t see how I can trust you anymore.”
    “You don’t trust me?” said Letha, raising her eyebrows. She sniffed. “I trusted you enough to make my credit rating look like Swiss cheese. When I tell you I have a problem, I don’t want my ears filled with a lot of slop about Mankind and the Universe. So don’t tell me you don’t trust me. We have to trust each other.”
    “Yeah,” Sickle drawled wearily. “I trust everybody.”
    The doctor scowled at him a moment, then turned and moved ponderously to the end of the room. Slowly he paced back and stood looking from one to the other. Finally, he drew a deep breath.
    “Fortunately,” he began, his voice lower now, “I’ve worked out something very spectacular. It should satisfy us both – in prestige and money.”
    “You can have the prestige,” Letha told him coldly. “I’ll take the money. But before we celebrate your return to sanity, we’d better do something about Tony’s sister. How did she know we were at the museum?”
    The doctor frowned. “I’m not certain.” He turned to Tony. “Tell me, Tony... how did your sister know we were at the museum?”
    The inner Tony cried silently, ~Don’t tell him! Don’t ever say anything about her!~ But it had no effect at all on the captive Tony, for he replied tonelessly, like a programmed robot, “Telepathy.”
    “So that’s it!” Letha said softly. “Ten to one says she’ll show up again and ruin everything.”
    Dr. Gannon’s face slowly hardened. “Then,” he said grimly, “she’ll have to be – as only you might say – scratched?”
    Letha nodded.
    * * *
    Yet even sleep held no comfort for Tia. Jumbled images flooded her mind. Events of the past few days flashed in and out of focus in a strange, disjointed order. She tossed restlessly. There was a voice, a clear insistent whisper which echoed through her dream. It kept repeating her name, over and over again. ~Tia,~ it said softly, ~Tia , Tia, Tia...~ Once or twice, it faded away, only to return again stronger and more urgently than before.
    That night in the darkness of the hideout, Tia awoke suddenly, with a start and sat up in her bunk, listening. Something had awakened her, but what? Had someone called her?
    She put a hand to her forehead, and felt it damp with perspiration. Perhaps, she thought, a drink might help her to sleep. She swung her legs to the floor and got up. There was a carton of milk on the table and she went to get it.
    ~Tia,~ said the voice.
    She grew tense as the call came again, and she realized she was hearing it only in her mind.
    She froze. The word rang through her mind like a pistol shot. So it was real! Tony was trying to communicate with her. She closed her eyes and concentrated, but there were no images coming through. Her mind was blank.
    ~Tia,~ came the voice again a second later. ~Tia! Tia! Can you hear me?~
    ~Oh, Tony!~ she cried happily. ~I’m here, Tony,~ transmitted Tia excitedly. ~I hear you! Where are you?~
    ~In Dr. Gannon’s laboratory. Help me!~
    ~What happened to you, Tony? What made you do the awful things you did?~
    ~I was forced to do them. I can’t explain now. Hurry!~
    ~But – but I don’t know how to find you! What’s wrong? Can’t you free yourself?~
    ~Tia, something terrible has happened. It was something they did to me. I – I’ve lost my power to energize!~
    ~Oh, Tony! How can I find you?~
    ~Tia, listen carefully. Follow my voice. Follow my voice path. Please! It will lead you to me.~
    The urgency of his call brought her to her feet. Tia’s heart lifted. In the midst of his difficulties, Tony had found a way to make contact. Now he wanted her to trace him, to “home-in’ on his telepathic signal. It was a device they had used many times before and – within an operational range of about five miles – it usually had a high rate of success.
    Tia found her shoes, slipped into them quickly, dressed hurriedly, hurried outside and went down stairs. Outside, the moon hung over the rooftops like a large white balloon, and the night air was cool on her face.
    ~Okay!~ she said when she reached the sidewalk. ~Guide me! Which way?~ She began turning in a circle, almost like a radar scanner.
    ~Tia,~ said Tony again, and she turned to her left, automatically locking-on to the direction of the signal’s source. ~This way... this way...~ Tony began repeating. She set off across the city at a brisk walk. Slowly, inexorably, she was wound in towards her brother like a fish on the end of a line. But it was a tricky operation. Here and there the line would get snagged. Tia would falter at an intersection, not sure of which street to take. But always Tony’s voice would whisper again in her head and guide her back in the right direction. ~This way... this way...~ Tony began repeating.
    Tia turned until she reached a point where Tony’s voice seemed clearest, then ran up the street to the next corner. Again she began to turn.
    ~Which way now?~ she asked.
    ~This way... this way...~ Tony repeated.
    After several corrections on several streets and corners, Tia managed to fix the general direction of her destination in her mind. To reach it she had to cross the edge of the city and then angle up into the hills. This latter part of the route was the worst, for no street led in the direction she wanted to go, most of them looping upward or winding around so that she was forced to trudge far out of her way in order to make a small gain.
    Occasionally she checked on her course with Tony, and he would call back encouragingly, ~You’re getting closer.~
    It took her a full hour. It was after midnight according to her reckoning when Tia had covered the better part of three miles and at last reached the end of a drive at the top of a hill by the time she approached the large imposing residence and peered uneasily upward at a great, gaunt Victorian mansion that stood on a hillside on the city outskirts rising dark against the sky. Rising up from the darkness, it looked more like a fortress than a house, hewn as it was from natural grey stone and surrounded by a high, thick wall. Tia knew her journey was over. Tony was somewhere inside this house, waiting for her. She must be careful how she approached, for she fancied the occupants might not be too pleased to see her.
    A single street light illuminated the cavernous entrance. The house itself was dark, the upper part of the great structure merging with the starless blackness overhead, so that it seemed to be one with the night. Tia wouldn’t have been surprised to see goblins gaping at her from the windows.
    She shivered and asked, ~Is this the right place?~
    ~Yes,~ Tony called. ~Come inside... quick!~
    Following it, but so faint she wasn’t sure she heard it, came another call like a tiny echo. ~No! No! Don’t come in! Don’t...~
    Tia caught her lip between her teeth, her uneasiness rising. ~Tony!~ she said urgently. ~Something seems wrong. What is it?~
    ~Everything’s wrong!~ came the quick reply. ~Hurry! Hurry! I want to get out of here... there isn’t much time!~
    Deciding the echo she’d thought she’d heard had been only her imagination, she pushed at the big wrought-iron gates and they creaked open, allowing her into the driveway. Her feet crunched on the gravel. It was only twenty yards or so to the front door. So far, so good. As she drew nearer, Tony’s voice came to her again.
    ~Tia – where are you?~
    ~Outside the house.~
    ~Try and find a way in. I’m in the basement.~
    ~Okay.~
    She ran up the front steps and across the broad veranda to the door. She tried the knob. It was locked. Predictably, the front door was locked.
    ~Unlock it!~ Tony said.
    Tia edged around the porch. She was in luck: someone had left open the sliding glass doors which led out on to the rear patio. She energized the lock; it clicked and the door swung open. She slipped inside. As she entered the dark hall it closed and locked behind her.
    The room was very large and the bright moonlight cast irregular patterns on the walls.
    ~Come straight ahead,~ Tony ordered. ~There’s a door under the stairway. Open it and you’ll find a flight of steps going down.~
    Tia found a door and, holding her breath, eased it open. A moment later, she found herself standing in a wide, finely-decorated hall. A staircase rose away into the darkness. Beneath it, on the wall, a narrow strip of yellow light attracted her attention. She moved closer. It was a half-opened door, of a kind which was designed to close flush with the wood-panelling. Tia eased her way through and came to a sudden halt – she had almost fallen down the flight of stone steps that were on the other side. Her mind raced: she had found the basement. The lights were on, but there was no one to be seen. Down below, she could see the laboratory and the operating table and she realized at once that this was the place she had mistaken for a hospital.
    She came quietly down the steps, eyes scanning the layout of the laboratory. There were several doors leading off it and she moved across to try one.
    She tried three doors. The first led into the wine cellar, which was empty. The second opened on to a small storeroom, which again was empty. The third was right.
    By the dim glow from the street light that came through the hall windows, she found the door under the great curving stairway.
    As her hand touched the knob she heard again the tiny echolike call. ~No! No!~ it urged her. ~Don’t come down here! Go away!~
    Tia hesitated. Then her mouth firmed. The tiny echolike call was nothing but the result of her own fears. Tony was somewhere below, and he was badly in need of her help.
    Determinedly she turned the knob and thrust open the door.
    ~Tony, are you down there?~
    ~Yes! Hurry before they come back!~
    Reassured, she felt her way down the steps to a broad area that seemed to be a well-equipped laboratory, though it was so dimly lighted she could see only a short distance ahead. She moved cautiously along what appeared to be the main aisle, eyes searching either side for a sign of Tony.
    ~Keep coming straight,~ Tony called. ~I’m down at the end.~
    It was quite dark at the end, and she could make out nothing there. She stopped, her uneasiness returning.
    She froze in mid-stride. There had been a movement somewhere off to the right. She turned, prepared for the worst. Suddenly there was a loud Baaaa! almost in front of her. She jumped backward in quick fright, then steadied as her eyes made out the dim form of a goat peering at her with keen interest from his pen. Then her lips parted in a relieved smile – it had only been the laboratory goat shuffling around in his cage. Moving closer, she saw his name on a small sign above the gate.
    Tia relaxed and smiled. She loved goats. “Hello, Alfred, you silly thing.” Tia shrugged mentally and returned to the business in hand.
    Alfred responded with another bleat. Immediately afterward she heard the echolike voice in her head. ~I’m not as silly as most humans. You were foolish to come down here. I warned you to stay away!~
    She stared at him. “Alfred!” she exclaimed. “It was you—” A telepathic goat was the last thing she expected to find here. Not that most goats didn’t have the ability, but Alfred was exceptional.
    ~Not so loud!~ Alfred cautioned. ~Someone may hear you. Tony – I mean the small part of him that escaped their control – has been trying to tell you to keep away from here. But his power is too weak. I can barely hear him myself. I promised him I’d tell you—~
    “But – but where is he?” she whispered.
    ~At the end of the aisle, tied to a chair. He—~
    “Tia!” Tony called. “Help me!”
    “Tony!” exclaimed Tia.
    She took a step forward, peering into the darkness. Now, as her eyes became more accustomed to the gloom, she could make out the helpless figure of Tony fastened securely to a heavy chair. It was astonishing to see him a prisoner there, powerless to unfasten the cords that any child at Witch Mountain could have dealt with in seconds.
    She started to run toward him and energize the cords, but abruptly a warning from Alfred flashed into her mind: ~Get away from here! Hurry! Hurry!~ Tia hesitated. She half-turned, uncertain.
    Her brother was sitting upright on the end of a narrow bunk bed. He was looking directly towards her, but there was no smile on his face, nor any gleam of welcome in his eyes. Tia came forward to reach out a hand. “Tony,” she repeated, worriedly. But there was no reply.
    Everything happened so quickly that Tia barely had time to let out a squeal of surprise. As she stepped into the room,there was a movement out of the darkness behind her and suddenly a pair of bony arms – Sickle’s – reached out and grabbed her from behind, a large hand pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose. At the same instant, Letha appeared from out of the shadows and began tugging roughly at the sleeve of her jacket. Then Gannon’s hard face loomed towards her and, too late she saw the hypodermic needle in his right hand. It jabbed downwards.
    She twisted around, fighting. For a moment the face of the driver of the black car, teeth gritted, filled her vision. Then, as she struggled for breath, the driver’s face became distorted and blurred, and everything went black.
    Tony’s empty, impassive gaze, was the last thing Tia remembered as the room tilted and she tumbled down into the deep black pool of unconsciousness.

Chapter 9: Mission for Alfred
    The trap had worked perfectly.
    As Tia slumped, unconscious, in Sickle’s firm grasp, the lights came on in the laboratory and Letha Wedge and Dr. Gannon stepped through the side door and hurried down the aisle.
    “Well, I’ve got her,” Sickle muttered, as if somehow the task had been distasteful to him. “Now what do you want me to do with her?”
    “Bring her over here,” said the doctor, stopping by the main operating table. “We’ll take care of her.”
    Sickle lifted Tia and carried her to the table and placed her upon it. He stepped aside and stood watching while his aunt and the doctor strapped her down carefully and blindfolded her.
    Gannon had made his decision to capture Tia for two reasons. Firstly, she posed a threat to his plans. Her attempt to rescue Tony at the museum showed that she would stop at nothing to help her brother, and that could prove to be a nuisance, for she was bound to try again. Therefore, reasoned Gannon, it would be better to have her where he could be sure she would cause no further trouble.
    Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, Tia could eventually be as useful to him as Tony. Two children with the ability to energize matter were, after all, better than one. That idea would have to wait however, until he had constructed a duplicate of his mind-control device. Meanwhile, Tia must be kept sedated, lest she cause any more problems. And that wasn’t an easy task. Administering knock-out injections every few hours would be impractical. Something more permanent – and reliable – would have to be arranged.
    Finally, by morning, he had the solution. Dr. Gannon nodded to Sickle and said, “Bring me one of the plastic cases – make it the large one we use for the bigger animals.”
    Sickle went to a storage unit, selected a heavy, transparent plastic case, and brought it to the table.
    Rushing down to the laboratory, Dr. Gannon began to put his idea into practice. Half an hour later, he had constructed a long, transparent casing made from sections of tubular-steel and plastic sheeting. Carrying it to the operating table, he lowered it gently down over Tia’s sleeping form. When it was placed over Tia, covering her from head to foot, it formed an airtight chamber. Then he spent some time making sure of an airtight seal between the table’s edge and the casing.
    When this was done, Tia was encased in a transparent module, the atmosphere of which could be controlled at Gannon’s will. Now gas cylinders were rolled to the table, and hoses from them were connected to the case. A slow trickle of sleep-gas into the module would ensure that Tia was kept harmlessly unconscious.
    Dr. Gannon adjusted the valves and stood back, looking grimly at his victim.
    “This will keep her,” he said.
    “Keep her for what?” Sickle muttered uneasily.
    “For you to dispose of later,” the doctor told him, smiling thinly. “In the meantime it will keep her from interfering with our plans.” He went to search for a cylinder in the storeroom.
    “I need a drink,” said Letha, heading for the door. “This has been a day.”
    The others followed her, forgetting Tony and turning the lights off.
    The captive Tony, fastened to his chair, had watched the entire episode with no more change of expression than a store window mannequin. But the inner Tony had raged. He was still raging when the others left.
    ~I’m sorry,~ Alfred told him. ~I did my best to make her leave, but she was too worried about you.~
    ~We’ve got to do something!~ Tony agonized. ~We can’t just let her die...~
    ~She won’t die. Not till the doctor is ready for her to. Anyway, there is nothing we can do tonight. She is unconscious, and I am chained in my pen.~
    ~Can’t you break your chain?~
    ~Perhaps. I have considered it. But one needs a motive greater than self to break chains. Possibly, for her sake.~
    ~I don’t see how you can stand it, being a prisoner here.~
    ~If you had been born a goat,~ Alfred reminded him, ~you would have learned to philosophize and take life as it comes.~
    ~But I am not a goat.~
    ~More the pity. From what I have seen of humans, I would rather be a goat than any human on this planet.~
    ~But I am not from this planet,~ the inner Tony said miserably. ~I’m from another world where people would never dream of treating each other the way they do here.~
    ~Well!~ Alfred exclaimed. ~That explains it. I’d wondered why you and your sister were the only people I’ve ever been able to exchange an intelligent thought with. A pity we are forced to meet under such uncomfortable circumstances, when I am chained, and you are bottled up in yourself, so to speak.~
    Alfred paused a moment, then said, ~Now, about this unhappy situation. A shame your regular self cannot take orders from a goat, for I would order you to shake off your bonds and free your sister, then take to your heels as soon as she is awake and can walk. But no, that is impossible. So let us consider the possible. Has your sister any friends?~
    ~I – I think so. At least I saw her with a bunch of boys at the museum, and it seemed like they were trying to help her.~
    ~Who are they?~
    ~I don’t know.~
    ~Then we will have to wait till she wakes up, and ask her. In the meantime I shall take a bit of rest so I will be ready for the trials of tomorrow. I suggest you do the same.~
    ~How can I possibly rest with the way things are?~ the inner Tony asked plaintively.
    ~You are a worrier, so that’s your worry. I am a philosopher, so I will sleep.~
    * * *
    The darkness of the laboratory was beginning to gray when Tia began to struggle back to consciousness. Her eyes flickered, and the laboratory swam in and out of focus. The injection she had been given last night was very potent, but gradually her extraordinary willpower helped her to surface. She tried to consider her plight. She was pinned to the operating table and covered by some kind of plastic cover. And judging by the sounds coming from the storeroom she was not alone.
    Her first thoughts were to break free and make a run for it, but when she tried to energize the leather straps nothing happened. Slowly she realized that the effect of the injection had weakened her considerably, and it was difficult to raise a finger, let alone use her energizing powers. Even if she did break free, she wasn’t sure she could fight her way out, at least not in her present dazed condition. She tried to think of something else. She raised her head a little and let her eyes roam around the laboratory.
    It was at that moment the inner Tony became aware of low, incoherent sounds coming from the plastic case that covered Tia.
    ~Alfred!~ he called. ~Alfred! I think she’s coming out of it!~
    ~I’m awake,~ said Alfred, and gave a loud bleat to prove it. ~But do not count on her coming entirely out of it. I did not see fit to mention it last night, but one of those cylinders attached to her case contains gas. The doctor’s intention, I’m sure, is to keep her far enough under so she cannot make use of those curious powers you two seem to possess.~
    ~That’s what I’ve been afraid of,~ Tony admitted. ~But I didn’t want to think about it. I don’t know what we’ll do if she can’t talk to us.~
    Tia’s mumbling was becoming more distinct. “Tony...” she was repeating weakly. “Crusher... Muscles... Alfred... Where am I?... Alfred.”
    That was when she saw Alfred. Alfred the billy-goat was kneeling on a bed of straw in his cage, enjoying a peaceful doze. The only thoughts in his head were of lazy, hot days and endless fields of lush green grass. Tia was about to change all that. Summoning up the little strength she possessed, she projected her weakened mental power across the laboratory and lifted the tiny latch on the door of Alfred’s cage. At the sound of his name, Alfred, who had been comfortably relaxed on his bed of straw, stood up abruptly, his long ears twitching forward. Next second Alfred’s eyes popped wide open. Suddenly, his clouded brain was imbued with a sense of urgency – and purpose. He didn’t know why, but he knew he had a task to perform, and that he must perform it as quickly as possible.
    Tia smiled as she saw, with some relief, that her message had been received and was about to be acted upon. As she watched, Alfred jerked to his feet and nosed open the cage door.
    “Alfred...” Tia continued in her weak, faraway voice. “Alfred... help – help me... !”
    Alfred bleated to let her know she had been heard, and strained forward to the end of his chain. He gave a few experimental tugs, then backed up a few paces. Now, lowering his head, he gave a powerful lunge forward. The chain snapped as if it had been a string.
    With another bleat, Alfred trotted out of his pen and over to the side of the heavy table where Tia lay imprisoned under the plastic case.
    He pressed his nose against the side of the case and bleated again to announce his presence. ~I am here to help,~ he told her. ~Have you friends I can bring here?~
    “Friends... yes... the Earthquakes...”
    ~The Earthquakes?~ Alfred repeated, not sure what she meant. ~They are friends?~
    “Yes... Rocky... Muscles... Crusher... Dazzler... They are... the Earthquakes... Find them...”
    ~Where are they?~
    “At their... hideout... down in... city... old part... old house... sort of... like this...”
    As she mumbled the words, Alfred caught a hazy vision of the Earthquakes’ hideout from her mind, and an even hazier vision of the street it was on. He was about to ask for more detailed information when he heard footsteps beyond the side door, quickly approaching from the back hall. He recognized the impatient tread of Dr. Gannon.
    ~I’ll find them!~ Alfred said hurriedly, and sprang down the aisle toward the steps under the great stairway near the main entrance. He skipped lightly across the stone flagging, and then with a reassuring glance at Tia, clopped on up the steps, scrambled to the top of them and through the narrow doorway at the top. He butted the door open, and spun into the front hall.
    The big front door, he knew, was locked, but he wasted no time with it. Lowering his big curved horns, he sprang forward and smashed through the lower panel and trotted out on the porch.
    At the edge of it he paused a moment, sniffing the good air of freedom and enjoying his first sight of the sun in many months. It was just coming up over a distant hill. He gave it a healthy baaaa! of greeting, then started down toward the city spread out below. He had a feeling this was going to be a really fine day.
    A second later, Gannon came back into the laboratory, dragging a cylinder of sleep-gas behind him. Tia closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t notice the empty cage. But he was too wrapped up with his own scheming thoughts. He clipped the cylinder into place and rotated the tiny metal wheel. The gas hissed into the plastic casing. Another second and Tia was drifting helplessly back into unconsciousness. All her hopes were now pinned on Alfred.
    * * *
    As Alfred started down the hill to begin his search, the four Earthquakes picked their way around to the side of the old monstrosity they thought of as their own, and entered their hideout.
    “Hey, Tia!” Crusher called, forgetting at this hour to speak out of the side of his mouth. “Tia! We got some cold hotcakes for you!”
    He stopped abruptly. The others halted beside him, looking around with surprise at the empty room.
    “She – she ain’t here!” Rocky muttered uneasily.
    There had been no trace of Tia when Earthquakes arrived with her breakfast that morning, save for her discarded red waistcoat which hung limply over the back of a chair. Neither had there been any note to explain her sudden disappearance.
    Muscles set down the half-empty bottle of syrup he had lifted from his mother’s kitchen, and stood rubbing his thin arms while he frowned at her empty bunk. He shook his head. “I sure hope she didn’t go lookin’ for Tony without us. She could get in trouble.”
    “Yeah,” said Dazzler. “She needs us.”
    Crusher placed the cold hotcakes on the table by the syrup and went over and felt Tia’s bunk. “It’s cold,” he said. “She musta been gone a long time. Wonder why she left?”
    “She musta got a clue,” said Dazzler.
    “Yeah, but where did it take her?” Crusher asked.
    “Only person can answer that is Tia,” said Dazzler.
    They looked at each other helplessly and finally sat down. For a while no one had anything to say.
    At last Rocky ventured, “Looks like we oughta do something.”
    “You name it,” said Muscles.
    “Well, we sure can’t find her by staying here,” Rocky insisted.
    “I don’t see why not,” Muscles told him. “It’s the best place to find her. She’s bound to come back here. All we got to do is wait.”
    “Okay,” Rocky admitted. “I’d just as soon stay. It sure beats goin’ to school!”
    There was nothing they could do, Earthquakes concluded, except to wait and hope that she would turn up again.
    Their vigil had not been without its compensations however, for Muscles had brought along a big bag of hotcakes, and as the gang quickly discovered they were the most delicious thing this side of a multilayered ice-cream sundae.
    “When we run away from home,” said Crusher wistfully, “I’m sure gonna miss your mom’s hotcakes, Muscles.”
    Rocky murmured his agreement. A guy certainly had to make a lot of sacrifices if he wanted to be tough and independent.
    * * *
    Alfred, by this time, was doing well so far. Neither Letha nor Sickle had noticed him as he passed across the hall and out of the front door. Nor had they seen him as he cantered away down the driveway and out on to the main road. He made good speed down the hill. In only fifteen minutes, he was nearing the city centre. Unfortunately, that was when his troubles began. He had reached the bottom of the hill and was traveling at a fast clip toward a school intersection where a patrolman had just brought traffic to a halt. It was still early morning, and the main streets were clogged with rush-hour traffic – and somehow Alfred had to cross them in order to reach his destination. He paused with both front hoofs on the kerb, inclining his head and looking puzzled. The cars ahead of him stopped, bumper to bumper, and were jammed nose to bumper along the length of the street, waiting for the lights, but Alfred saw no reason for wasting time by lingering in the rear. A perfectly good path led to the crossing.
    Alfred decided to negotiate the traffic the only way he knew how: over the top. A nimble leap took him to the trunk of the first car he came to. There was a dull metallic thud as he leapt up on to the trunk of the nearest car and began his progress across to the far side of the street.
    From here he proceeded across the roof to the front, and was about to step down on the hood when curiosity prompted him to lower his head and peer through the windshield. He saw nothing but one well-heeled lady driver, a plump woman in diamonds, was taking advantage of the hold-up to apply some lipstick and was painting her lips before the rearview mirror. Suddenly, there was a thump on the car roof, and the next moment she was staring at the upside down, inquisitive head of a billy-goat. She did a double take of him and screamed, shrieked and jerked back, and dove to the floor smearing lipstick over her face. And the red lipstick described a vertical line up the middle of her face.
    Alfred, in disgust, went on across the hood and was about to leap to the trunk of the next car when he wondered what it was about him that had frightened the woman. He glanced back, and caught his reflection in the windshield. It couldn’t be my horns, he thought. She should have admired them instead of acting so idiotic. I’m not vain, but it’s really a fine set. They don’t come finer.
    Suddenly wondering what the occupants of the next car would think of them, he hopped to the trunk ahead of him and climbed to the roof. Quickly crossing the roof he reached the hood and glanced back. But his sudden appearance brought anything but admiration. Instead there was consternation, and a sudden wild scramble from the front seat to the back one.
    Alfred couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He snorted and jumped on to the hood of the next car, the driver of which was in the act of lighting a cigarette for his lady companion. Both of them looked up as Alfred’s hooves clattered on the body work. Their mouths dropped open. The woman’s cigarette fell from her mouth and the man’s lighter ignited the big feather in her hat. He turned just in time to see what he had done. Snatching the hat, he leapt out of the car, threw it on the ground and began jumping up and down on it.
    Alfred was quite bemused by these strange antics, and he simply chose to ignore them, leap-frogging on across the packed ranks of automobiles. Behind him, he left a trail of shocked faces, raised voices, and dented car bodywork.
    Alfred snorted in really high disgust, and leaped to the crosswalk. “Baaa!” he said to the patrolman, who waved a stop sign at him. “Baaa! Baaa! Baaaa!” He lowered his horns, which really were formidable, and had no trouble whatever in clearing the patrolman from his path.
    At least, he thought, as he gained the opposite corner and started down a more interesting street, if humans don’t admire a fine set of horns, they do have respect for them.
    Then, thinking of his mission and the probable location of the hideout where he hoped to find the Earthquakes, it occurred to him that much valuable time might be lost if he depended solely upon his cloven feet to take him there. Tia could easily die if he were too slow in bringing aid.
    Alfred saw his chance.
    The cab was pointed towards the south side of the city, and that was the way he had to go. Of course, there was no guarantee it would take him in the right direction, but he was tired now, and anyway it was worth a try.
    At that moment, on the next corner ahead, he saw a man flagging down a taxi. He had seen a man hail the cab and now he watched as it pulled over and the driver stuck his craggy face out of the window. In sudden inspiration, he changed from a fast trot to a charging gallop.
    He didn’t think much of taxis or the humans that used them, but there are times, he had learned, that even a goat must be resourceful and take every possible advantage, if he hoped to reach his destination.

Chapter 10: Mission in Progress. The Rescue
    Alfred, in his eagerness to reach the taxi before it picked up its fare and left, was moving at top speed by the time he reached the corner. The fare, a self-important-looking man of the type who likes to give orders – such was Alfred’s instant appraisal – had just opened the door and was about to step inside when Alfred crossed the curb.
    “Where to, mister?”
    “Fourth and Market.”
    “Hop in.”
    The man opened the back door and started to get in. That was when Alfred made his move.
    Had the fare been a quiet little old lady in black, Alfred instinctively would have made a slight change in direction and landed neatly on the taxi’s trunk. But the fare was a man in expensive clothes, with an air about him that put Alfred in mind of Dr. Gannon, so he merely lowered his horns and kept going.
    He charged forward, head dipping low, and the poor, unsuspecting fare never knew what hit him. Alfred's stubby horns connected solidly with the seat of his trousers and he went sailing across the width of the car, crashing heavily into the far door. He fell on the inset handle and the door swung open, toppling him out or to the street.
    The resulting impact sent the man straight into the taxi and out through the door on the other side. Alfred clambered in and parked himself on the back seat. The whole switch had taken place in less than five seconds. Alfred finished in complete control of the seat, nor did he mind it when the taxi pulled away with a jerk that automatically closed both doors. The cab driver slammed the flag down and reached a hand behind him to close the rear door. Then he jabbed the accelerator and moved out into the stream of traffic. Back on the street, his would-be passenger picked his bruised body off the tarmac and waved his arms in consternation.
    Alfred had been luckier than he could have imagined. Not only had he managed to get a cab all to himself – he had chosen the fastest cab-driver in the city to ferry him: by one of those curious chances that even the fates have never satisfactorily explained, the driver of the taxi was none other than the free-wheeling tyre-squealing impatient Eddie who had run out of gas with Tony and Tia.
    Eddie, without a backward glance, put the flag down and said, “Did you tell me Fourth and Market, sir?”
    Alfred expressed his immediate opinion of the cabbie with a snort.
    “Yes, sir,” said Eddie. “Have you there in a coupla minutes, mister,” he shouted over his shoulder.
    “Baaa!” said Alfred.
    “Yes, sir,” continued Eddie, leaning over the wheel, concentrating on his driving and accelerating hard down the outside of a line of slow-moving traffic. “Feel the power in this cab? It’s got plenty of power. Everybody tells me I oughtta be a race driver. What do you think?”
    “Baaaaa...” Alfred repeated.
    “But it’s got plenty of power!” Eddie protested. “Everybody tells me I oughta be a race driver. What do you think?”
    “Baaa!” said Alfred again, which expressed his true opinion better than words.
    “Well, I think you’re wrong!” Eddie flung back, his voice rising. “I’m one of the best cabbies in this part of the country. Anybody’ll tell you that. I got all the makings of a race driver. I’ll show you!” Eddie stomped on the brake pedal and tried to squeeze into a gap hardly big enough for a push bike. Horns blared.
    “Baaaaa...”
    The taxi began weaving in and out of traffic like a frightened rabbit pursued by hounds, speed increasing at every chance. This made no difference at all to Alfred, so long as the taxi continued to move in the direction.
    “Now don’t you worry about nothin’,” said Eddie, narrowly missing a truck and giving a pedestrian the fright of his life. “I’m a safe driver. Want me to tell you how safe I am?” said Eddie with confidence.
    “Baaa!” said Alfred wearily, and wished the cabbie would keep his mouth shut. The human voice, in his opinion, left much to be desired, and could hardly be compared to the musical bleating of a herd of goats.
    “Well, I’ll tell yar this anyway,” Eddie persisted. “I’m a real safe driver. I been hackin’ nineteen years, eleven months. In all that time I never even scratched a cab. Next month they’re gonna give me the gold safety award. What do you think of that?”
    “Baaa!” Alfred said automatically.
    Eddie grunted. “Ah, you don’t like nothin’. I sure hope you’re a good tipper.”
    “Baaa!” said Alfred lustily.
    “Huh. I didn’t think you were.” Eddie shrugged and swung left on to a sidestreet, hoping to lose some of the heavy morning traffic. His eyes flickered over the rear-view mirror. At first, nothing registered. Then disbelievingly, he grabbed for a rag in the glove-box and wiped it over the mirror. Then he looked again.
    Eddie muttered something under his breath, and added, “I knew there was something about you that didn’t look right.” Frowning, he glanced in the rearview mirror, and for the first time saw Alfred’s head framed in it. Alfred’s face was still there, staring benignly back at him.
    “Baaaaa...” said Alfred.
    Eddie’s mouth sagged open and he span round, still not believing the evidence of the mirror. But it was true. There was a fully grown free-loading billy-goat seated in the back of his cab!
    A strange expression crossed Eddie’s face. He picked up a rag and wiped off the mirror, then glanced into it again. He swallowed, and his eyes and mouth opened wide. Abruptly he spun around and looked squarely at Alfred.
    “Baaa!” said Alfred, in great enjoyment, then braced himself when he saw where the untended taxi was heading.
    Eddie didn’t have much time to puzzle over how it got there. Next instant, there was a shuddering impact as he was jerked violently back towards the windshield as his swerving cab slammed into the rear of a parked vehicle and the taxi slammed into the rear of another car. Following it came the sound of metal parts falling to the paving. There was the sound of breaking glass, a five-yard shunt, and then both cars came to a standstill.
    Eddie winced, switched off his engine and leapt out. Furiously, he , shocked and trembling, staggered out and jerked, yanked open the rear back door, which fell off with a clatter.
    “Get outa my cab!” he yelled. “Out! Out!”
    Alfred had the feeling he wasn’t wanted any more. Sheepishly, he gave a final “Baaa!”, clambered out of the cab, hopped nimbly out and set off up the street at a steady trot. At the sight of him and his formidable horns, the gathering onlookers quickly scattered and allowed him all the trotting room he needed. Eddie watched him disappear around the corner and then, with heart in mouth, turned to inspect the damage to his beloved cab. Alfred heard Eddie moaning about his perfect record, but he did not look back. “My perfect record,” he moaned, tears welling in his eyes. “My perfect record.”
    It wasn’t until Eddie looked up from the battered hood of his vehicle, more than a minute later, that he noticed the distinctive blue and white colouring on the car he had driven into. By that time, its driver – a patrolman – was standing over him with an expression of barely restrained fury on his face, waiting for an explanation.
    Eddie cleared his throat nervously. “I picked up this guy three blocks away,” he began brokenly, “and next thing I know, it ain’t a guy anymore – it’s a goat! And then I...”
    “Don’t tell me,” interrupted the patrolman, reaching for his pocketbook. “Let me guess. When you asked for a tip, the goat sprouted wings and flew away. Right?”
    At the next corner Alfred paused and looked carefully to the left and to the right. The hideout had to be somewhere near. He could feel it. He decided the best way to find it would be to follow his nose and let intuition take him around the proper corner. Had there been another honest creature around, instead of streams of ordinary humans, he could have mentally asked directions. But there wasn’t even a pigeon he could pass the time of day with. You could do nothing with a human except give him the old baaa treatment, or lower your horns at the right moment.
    Alfred closed his eyes, tested the air, then opened them, and turned sharply to the left. Far down, where the street curved through an area of general dilapidation, he saw an old building that seemed to answer the description Tia had given him.
    He gave a baaa for luck and to clear the way, and set off down the street at a fast trot.
    * * *
    Luckily, the Earthquakes were still at the hideout when Alfred showed up.
    At the hideout the Earthquakes were sitting disconsolately around, saying nothing while Muscles tested a cold hotcake.
    Muscles said glumly, “I can’t figure where she went. You know her... she coulda went anywhere.”
    “It’s too bad,” added Dazzler, through a mouthful of hotcake, “that Tia isn’t here to...” his voice trailed off, as there came a scuffling sound from the other side of the door. Dazzler turned at a sound outside.
    “Hear that?” he said. “Must be her now,” said Rocky, sprang up hopefully, bounded across to open the door, hurried to the door and opened it. When he jerked it open however, he got the shock of his life. He stiffened and his mouth came open. It was not Tia who confronted him, but a determined billy-goat named Alfred.
    Before him stood Alfred.
    “Baaa!” said Alfred, by way of greeting.
    Rocky jumped back with a yell of fright. “Watch out!” he cried. “Look out!” shouted Rocky, nearly jumping out of his skin.
    He raced back into the room and clambered on to the table, as Alfred came charging towards him, bleating and snorting. Alfred snorted and charged into the room.
    The rest of the gang scattered in every direction, climbing the walls and furniture, Alfred baaad with delight and climbed after them. The frightened Earthquakes jumped on the nearest piece of furniture they could find. It was fun for a moment, then he realized he was getting nowhere, and began running from one to the other, giving anxious little baaas while he looked earnestly into their faces.
    “It’s a monster!” Crusher gasped. “What’s the matter with him? Is he crazy?”
    “He’s a crazy wild beast!” Rocky cried. “It’s a wild beast!” yelled Crusher.
    “Oh, Tia!” Muscles wailed. “Where are you when we need you?” moaned Muscles, balancing precariously on the window ledge.
    Alfred scraped the floorboards with his front hoof and scampered excitedly about the room, knocking chairs over and nuzzling each of the Earthquakes in turn. Eventually, he came to a halt beneath Dazzler, who had leapt to the sanctuary of the bunk bed. He lifted both hooves on to the edge of the bed and pressed his nose against Dazzler’s legs. Alfred confronted Dazzler, baaaing earnestly.
    “Hey – it’s actin’ like it knows me!” said Dazzler nervously, “He keeps lookin’ at me like he knows me!”
    Alfred gave a happy baaa and nodded his head. “Baaaaa...” answered Alfred, nudging the boy.
    “What do you want from me?” said Dazzler.
    Alfred gave a louder baaa. “Baaaaa...” repeated Alfred and trotted off towards the door, then he stopped, paused there for a moment, then turned, trotted back again and looked entreatingly from one boy to the other.
    “Maybe he’s hungry,” suggested Rocky.
    “Don’t give him the hotcakes,” Muscles said quickly.
    Alfred went to each boy, trotting to the door every time and then turning.
    Crusher said, “It’s like he wants us to go outside with him.”
    Dazzler shook his head. “I don’t wanna go outside with that thing!”
    Alfred was suddenly worried. How could he get these boys away from here and on the run for Dr. Gannon’s laboratory? He looked around the room and saw a sweater hanging over a chair. Tia’s? He trotted up to it.
    “Watch out – don’t let him get the hotcakes,” said Muscles fearfully, as he saw Alfred move towards the table. But the warning was misapplied. Instead of going for the bag of goodies, Alfred ducked his nose towards the back of a fallen chair, quickly grabbed Tia’s red waistcoat in his mouth when he recognized Tia’s scent and, snatching it in his mouth, made hurriedly for the door. With a bound he was out of the door and running with it. “Hey – come back here!” shouted Dazzler.
    “Stop him!” Crusher yelled. “He’s got Tia’s sweater!”
    All fear temporarily forgotten, the Earthquakes leapt down from their perches and gave chase. The situation had taken on a new turn: breaking up the furniture was one thing, but stealing Tia’s clothing was quite another. Alfred clomped heavily down the staircase and the Earthquakes tumbled clumsily after him.
    It was exactly what Alfred wanted. Now that he had the Earthquakes in tow, he wasn’t about to let them off the hook. It was important not to let them catch him, but it was equally important that he should not get too far ahead, lest they should lose interest in the chase. Alfred played it perfectly.
    “He’s gonna eat it!” Muscles cried, rushing to the door.
    “Hurry!” Dazzler gasped, following Muscles. “Take it away from him!”
    They dashed after him, trying to snatch the sweater from him before he reached the sidewalk. But Alfred charged through the rubble, crossed the sidewalk well ahead of them, and began running up the middle of the street.
    The four boys followed, yelling, while traffic stopped and pedestrians and drivers gaped. The hectic pursuit took them back into town, past the startled gazes of drivers and pedestrians alike, and out again towards the eastern suburbs.
    * * *
    It was a long run back to Letha Wedge’s towering mansion, most of it uphill. This time, however, there were no taxi rides and the journey took them over half an hour to complete. Alfred slowed his pace only when he saw his pursuers were tiring, and allowed them to almost catch up with him before he bounded ahead. In spite of aching muscles and straining lungs, the Earthquakes kept doggedly behind him, and not once was there talk of giving up the chase.
    It was mid-morning by the time Alfred came crunching up the drive towards Letha’s house, still clutching the waistcoat tightly between his teeth. A few yards behind him, the Earthquakes came puffing and panting along, all but exhausted by their long run up the hill. But they weren’t giving up now: Alfred seemed to be running himself into a corner. Tia’s waistcoat was not yet lost.
    By the time Alfred reached the mansion steps, his opinion of the four pursuers had gone up considerably. Alfred skirted the front and side of the house and finally found his way through the half-open patio doors. He ran to the top of the steps, paused just long enough for the Earthquakes to come bounding after him, then charged the partially destroyed door and smashed through to the hall. He led his boisterous pursuers scuttling through the lounge and out into the hall. The dogged Earthquakes followed closely.
    Then he paused, for the panelled door leading to the basement was closed. Well, what was the point of having horns if you didn’t use them? Head down, Alfred took a short powerful little run at the door and smashed a jagged hole in it, jumping through and bounding down the steps on the far side. The Earthquakes squeezed after him. They were right behind him when he clattered downward under the great stairway, and arrived in the laboratory below. By this time Alfred was almost fond of them.
    Dazzler came to a stumbling halt halfway down the stone staircase and held up his hand to stop the others. “Hey, look!” he shouted, and suddenly all thoughts about Alfred were forgotten.
    Everyone stopped, breathing rapidly from the long run. They looked curiously around.
    When he had got his breath, Muscles said in a low voice, “Hey... this is some kinda science place.”
    “Let’s get outa here!” said Rocky.
    “Not till we get Tia’s sweater,” Crusher told him.
    Suddenly Dazzler pointed and said excitedly, “Hey... Look...!”
    They all turned and stared. Ahead of them, under the plastic case, strapped to the table and blindfolded, was Tia. The Earthquakes gasped in surprise.
    “It’s Tia!” yelled Rocky. Rocky shouted, and they ran to the table. Excitedly, they leapt down the remaining few steps and rushed across to the operating table.
    “She’s being fed some kinda gas,” said Dazzler. “Quick! Let’s get her outta there!”
    Crusher was way ahead of him. He had already found the outlet tap on the cylinder and turned it off.
    “Tia!” said Muscles. “Tia!”
    “Phew!” Crusher gasped. “It smells!”
    “Must be some kinda gas... !” said Dazzler, as they backed away. “Come on... hold your breath – we gotta untie her!”
    Meanwhile, the rest of them set about removing the transparent casing. Two of them got on each side of the case, and very carefully they lifted it off and and dropped it on the floor. A few seconds later, it was lifted off and eager hands rushed to undo the leather straps that held Tia to the table.
    With Alfred watching and baaaing, they unfastened the straps that bound Tia and carried her to an open spot on the floor.
    The smell of sleep-gas tainted the air as Tia gradually emerged back into the land of the living. It took her fully two minutes to recognize her rescuers and another three before she had completely recovered.
    Muscles removed her blindfold, and Dazzler hurried to a sink, tried the faucet, and came back with a glass of water. Dazzler fetched a glass of water and held it to Tia’s lips as the others helped her to sit up. They crowded about and supported her while she drank from the glass. Finally she was able to sit up and look about.
    “You okay now?” said Dazzler. “Okay now?” he asked.
    “Yes,” said Tia gratefully. “I – I’m much better now,” Tia managed to say, “Thank you... thank you so much.”
    “How’d you get here?” Muscles asked and wanted to know.
    “Tony... It was Tony,” explained Tia, thinking back to the events of the previous night. “He was calling me. He guided me here. It – it was late last night when I got here... and Tony...” She paused, sat up straight, furrowed her brow, and looked around the laboratory. Suddenly she pointed to a chair at the end of the aisle. “He – he was tied in that chair... but where is he now?” she asked fearfully.
    Rocky shrugged. “You askin’ us?” countered Rocky.
    Tia brushed her friends aside, slid down from the table and started across the laboratory towards the room where she had last seen her brother. She had taken only three strides, however, when she stopped dead in her tracks. All at once Tia put her hands to her face. “I – I see something!” she exclaimed. “I saw something!” she cried, face screwed tight in concentration.
    “What was it?” chorused the Earthquakes, rushing across to her side. They came close again. “What... where...?”
    Tia looked as if she were in agony, straining to make sense of the hazy telepathic signal which had flashed into her mind. “It’s a big... round... thing!” she said brokenly. “That’s where Tony is. I’m sure of it. Big and round... and white...”
    Crusher had the answer. “Like a ball?” he asked. “A great big ball...?”
    “Yes!”
    “I know where it is!” Crusher told her.
    Tia almost exploded with anxiety. “Then let’s go!” she cried. “Hurry!”
    She sprang up, bounded across to the stairway, started up the steps two at a time, with the Earthquakes right behind her, and they ran for the stairs. They were almost halfway all through the shattered doorway at the top when Tia heard Alfred baaa behind her and realized there was something she had forgotten to do. She stopped, checked, turned and rushed back down to the laboratory.
    “Oh, Alfred,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him. “Thank you for everything,” she murmured, reaching her arms around Alfred’s neck to give him a big, warm hug. “Hold down the fort till we find Tony, and we’ll be back!”
    “Baaaaa,” said Alfred modestly. “Baaa!” said Alfred happily, and added mentally, ~Good luck!~
    Tia smiled. Alfred had performed wonderfully, and she would never forget him. She patted him once, kissed him, and took off up the steps again. Behind her, Alfred snorted with pride and pushed his nose back into a much-deserved bowl of feed.

Chapter 11: Plutonium
    About the same time, a few miles north of the city, Gannon’s black Citroen pulled smoothly to a halt on a lonely stretch of country road. While Tia and the Earthquakes were hurrying to find him, the captive Tony was being driven out of the city on a long winding trip into the hills. At a word from Dr. Gannon, Sickle pulled off the road at the top of a hill and parked the car under a group of trees. Sickle got out smartly and opened the doors for Gannon, Letha and Tony. Everyone got out. Together, the four of them moved across to the edge of the road. They found themselves standing on a hilltop which had a commanding view of the surrounding country. The great green and brown carpet of landscape lay stretched out before them, latticed by straight grey ribbons of road and the occasional twist of a river.
    The captive Tony moved woodenly at the doctor’s bidding, as docile as a lamb; but the inner Tony eyed him with ever-rising hate and again tried to contact Alfred, even though he knew it was useless. Alfred’s range was entirely too short, as was his own at the moment. He’d been amazingly lucky just to contact Alfred in the first place... but how had it all come out? Where was Alfred now? Had he managed to get help, and had Tia been freed...?
    The awful part of it was not knowing. The incredible part was that he and Tia, in spite of abilities that should have protected them from creatures like the doctor and his greedy friend, had fallen into their clutches.
    ~Buzzards!~ he thought, and again wondered what the pair of them were up to this morning. Earlier, just after Alfred had gone for help, Dr. Gannon had come into the laboratory, ordered him to free himself, and then get cleaned up for breakfast. Afterward he’d been told to lie down on his cot and rest till further orders.
    “I’ve a big task for you today,” the doctor had said. “I want you to be thoroughly rested and fresh for it.”
    ~Why didn’t you think of that last night?~ he’d raged. ~But no, you left me tied up in a chair till dawn.~
    Tony hoped he’d make a rousing mess of everything the doctor ordered him to do. After all, with only a two-hour nap... But, no, it wouldn’t be that way. His race, from the planet of the double suns, had many times the endurance of Earth-born people.
    As the captive Tony followed Dr. Gannon to the crest of the hill, the inner Tony looked curiously ahead, wondering what was in store for him.
    Directly stretching below, nestled in the palm of a narrow valley, lay a sprawling factory complex whose odd-shaped buildings set it entirely apart from the average industrial group. It was surrounded by a high steel fence whose only entrance was at a gatehouse where armed guards were on duty. A high perimeter fence formed a rectangle around the blocks of concrete buildings which were connected to each other by flat thoroughfares. Near the centre of the complex, projecting from the ground like a massive wart, was a shining white sphere, some two hundred and fifty feet in diameter.
    “What kind of place and factory is that?” queried Sickle, scowling at it.
    Dr. Gannon fingered his short beard a moment, and said quietly. “It’s an underground plutonium processing plant.”
    “Huh?” said Sickle.
    “It’s where U-235 becomes Pu-239,” explained Gannon, the facts at his fingertips.
    Sickle gave a little shake of his head, and Letha Wedge said, “Translate that into financial terms, Victor,” requested Letha.
    Gannon smirked. “Plutonium, my dear, is considerably more valuable than gold.”
    Letha Wedge smiled. Letha’s eyes gleamed. “That’s what I like about science,” she said. “They’re always discovering more expensive things.”
    Sickle asked, “What’s so good about this plutonium?” Sickle was being his usual sceptical self.
    “If you’d change your reading habits, you wouldn’t have to ask such a question,” the doctor said drily. “It’s used as the explosive core of nuclear missile warheads,” answered Gannon patiently. “If that’s what you call good.”
    “And I suppose,” Letha Wedge said lightly, “you’ll have Tony whip up an atom bomb or something?” joked Letha. She started to laugh, began a cackling little laugh, but it faded abruptly and she sobered quickly when she saw the serious, stony expression on Dr. Gannon’s face. She flicked a nervous glance at Sickle. A corner of her mouth twitched nervously.
    The doctor gave her a hard look, and slowly nodded. “In effect, yes. That’s what Tony is here for. Plutonium,” continued Gannon stonily, “is a powerful, the most powerful, lethal, radioactive element of all. We’ll take over the atomic furnace where it’s processed, cause a chain-reaction explosion, which will release a radioactive cloud that will drift from city to city.”
    She gasped. “I – I didn’t count on killing anyone, Victor,” said Letha worriedly. “Especially us. Especially not us. It’s not a good idea.”
    Gannon smiled as though talking to a child. “Oh, it’ll never go that far,” the doctor assured her. “They’ll pay anything to prevent it. Do you think five million dollars might spread some joy among your accountants?”
    Letha felt a warm glow rising inside her. Now her partner was talking a language she could understand. Letha rolled her eyes. “It’ll blow the transistors clear out of their calculators,” she beamed.
    The doctor smiled. Hands on hips, head raised imperially, he looked around like a potentate surveying his domain. Gannon took a deep breath and cast his eye over the landscape.
    “This,” he said, “is the first step,” he proclaimed, “in making myself the most powerful man in the world.”
    Then, turning on his heel, he led the assembled company back to the car. Doors slammed shut, Sickle switched on and they moved off down the hillside towards the floor of the valley.
    * * *
    The inner Tony was so shocked by Dr. Gannon’s plan that he was hardly aware of getting back into the car and being driven down to the gatehouse in front of the plutonium plant.
    ~Monster!~ he thought. ~Greedy monster! And you want to use me to do all this! Me!~
    Somehow he had to stop it. But how? How could he, bottled up like this and powerless, do anything at all? Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely helpless. He’d managed to get Alfred’s attention, and that had started something. Maybe, if he kept trying, he’d come up with a thought that would upset the doctor’s applecart...
    He was concentrating so hard that he failed to hear the doctor’s instructions to the captive Tony as they approached the gatehouse. Within five minutes they had arrived at the entrance to the plutonium plant. What happened came as a complete surprise, even though a part of himself was responsible for it.
    There was a small gatehouse containing a uniformed guard who controlled two automatic lifting barriers which served the narrow entrance and exit lanes. The gatehouse was a small affair in the center of the entrance, with a lift gate on either side. As the Citroen approached and Sickle drove up to it on the right, a truck coming out of the plant drew up behind the exit barrier and stopped on the other side, its radio playing loudly and tuned-in loudly to a country and western station. A guard leaned out to check the truck driver’s papers and, satisfied with them, he okayed them, waved him through, then signaled for the gate to be lifted. As it went up andthe gate swung up, the truck began to move off and the guard leaned out to check the doctor’s car. Sickle wound down his window as the guard turned to deal with the Citroen.
    “What can I do for you folks?” the guard said politely.
    Letha leaned across from the passenger’s seat. “You can take a powder,” Letha told him sweetly, and at the same time the doctor touched the captive Tony on the shoulder, and gave a nod of command.
    The guard frowned momentarily, which was about all he had time to do.
    Next moment, instantly his the entire gatehouse, with the guard inside, rose and was lifting straight up into the air, swing barriers and all. Like some strange metal and glass bird, borne aloft on spindly wings, it flew after the departing truck, moved over a few feet, was deposited neatly on the back of the truck as it moved away, and landed neatly on the tailboard. As the truck sped off down the road, the inner Tony got a glimpse of the guard trying desperately to get out and yell for help. “Get me outta here!” yelled the guard, struggling feverishly with the gatehouse door. “Help!” But the truck’s radio was playing so loudly it seemed doubtful if anyone could hear him. The truck driver drove nonchalantly on, deaf to everything except the wail of country and western guitars that issued forth from his radio.
    Gannon smiled with satisfaction and ordered Sickle to drive on. Sickle, at a word from the doctor, sent the car forward, heading directly for the plant.
    As they entered the grounds of the plant, Dr. Gannon pointed towards a tall, pylon-like metal tower which stood on the hill behind the main building a short distance away to their right. “Tony,” he ordered, “that is the outer security scanner. Put it out of commission – permanently.”
    ~No!~ the inner Tony cried silently, with all the power he could muster. ~Don’t do it! Don’t follow his orders!~
    If the captive Tony heard this inner plea, he paid not the slightest attention to it. For all at once it seemed as if a stray bolt of lightning must have struck the tower. There was no explosion, but the scanner toppled over as if it had been dynamited. A great shower of sparks exploded from the top, and suddenly, with a rending screech, the entire tower crumpled, fell forwards down the hill and collapsed into a twisted mass of mangled girders. This brought an instant reaction from the interior of the building, for flashes of sparks glittered through the windows, and excited guards rushed outside, pointing at the toppled tower.
    Some distance away, in the security control block, a guard leapt out of his seat as the bank of video monitors on the wall before him suddenly went dead. “Hey – what’s going on?” he said nervously, reaching out to stab wildly at a panel of buttons. “What’s happened?”
    The inner Tony was appalled. As he visualized what was soon to follow, he wished he could flee back into some remote corner of his skull and hide.
    Outside, the Citroen raced on, with Gannon shouting directions from the back seat. Two minutes and three sharp, right-angled turns later, the black limousine slithered to a halt beside the big white metal dome, at the hub of the complex: the furnace building. Sickle brought the car to a quick stop near the building. Directly ahead, a concrete stairway led downward to a lower level. At a sharp word from the doctor, everyone got out, jumped out and moved, clattered swiftly down the metal stairway towards the main door. A second before they reached it, the door suddenly began to swing open and two guards rushed out on the double. The doctor’s group had just enough time for them to flatten themselves against the curving wall before being seen by the guards went past and ran up the stairway.Three guards, alerted by their colleagues at security control, came rushing out and bounded up the stairway.
    Unnoticed, the four intruders slipped quickly into the building. Gannon’s eyes glowed with the dark fire of determination. Once inside the furnace room itself, he would have the world in the palm of his hands. Nothing and no one could stop him now.
    Dr. Gannon, with one hand on Tony, led the way through the door, across an entrance hall, and down another stairway. As they started downward, the inner Tony squirmed as he read the sign on the wall to his left: PLUTONIUM FURNACE.
    At the foot of the stairway they reached a long corridor. At the end of it was a steel door marked: Reactor Room. Gannon and his entourage had almost reached the furnace room. Their footsteps echoed off the metal walls as they headed towards the massive steel door at the end of the corridor. The doctor, with his hand still firmly on Tony’s shoulder, moved swiftly toward the steel door. Letha Wedge and Sickle, lips tight, followed close behind them.
    Just before they reached the door, a stem-faced security guard appeared suddenly from a recess on the left. A solitary uniformed guard, seated at a desk, was all the human resistance they had left to overcome. A plastic tag on his jacket indicated that his name was Dolan. His name – Dolan – was printed across a card on his left chestpocket.
    “Wait a minute,” Dolan ordered in a firm voice. The guard rose to his feet as the motley group of intruders approached and came to a halt. “You can’t go in there beyond this point without ID.” The voice was firm, authoritative. He was stating a rule.
    Dr. Gannon smiled at him. Gannon was unperturbed. He gave Tony’s shoulder a quick squeeze, produced the control unit and said, “Show him our ID, Tony,” he said smiling nonchalantly at the guard.
    Dolan reached out a hand, but he didn’t get the usual plastic card with an official stamp on it. Instead, he got a magic elevator ride, straight up to the ceiling. The inner Tony cried a soundless protest, but the captive Tony made short work of levitating the security guard and flattening him against the ceiling.
    The astounded Dolan struggled helplessly to get down. Flattened against the metal surface, he looked down with an expression of sheer bewilderment on his moon-like face. “Wha-what’s happened?” he gasped. “W-where... how... what...?” he babbled. “What am I doing here...?”
    Ignoring his protests the intruders passed underneath the suspended guard, came face to face with the giant steel door and stopped before the steel door. There was a sign on it, written in large red letters, which read: “DANGER: FURNACE ROOM. NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.” It looked, Letha fancied, rather like the contraptions found in the depths of bank vaults, and the thought gave her a warm feeling all over.
    “Tony,” said Dr. Gannon, “open the door,” commanded Gannon.
    ~No!~ shrieked the inner Tony, and pounded nonexistent fists against the walls enclosing him. ~No! No! No! Don’t do anything he says from now on!~
    For the first time the captive Tony seemed to hesitate, but it was for only a second or two. Tony complied. He concentrated on the heavy steel door. The electronic lock was disengaged and slowly the great three-feet-thick steel barrier swung open. It swung back in a gentle arc and allowed the party through.
    Dr. Gannon, with Tony at his side, went through into the furnace room. The others followed.
    “Now, Tony,” the doctor ordered, “seal the door so that no one can open it.”
    Then Tony energized the great door and reenergized the locking device. Slowly it swung closed again.
    This done, the group turned and moved forward to look around them. They were standing in a massive hall, filled with all kinds of strange apparatus. There were a number of huge, futuristic-looking machines grouped near the centre of the room, wide metal pipes raying out from them in all directions. They were linked to the bulky metal container that lay in the middle: the heart of the furnace itself. Metal staircases wound up and over the machinery and long, spidery catwalks swept around the walls, reaching high up to the great curving bowl of the roof. Now the inner Tony was aware of a humming sound coming from the huge furnace ahead of them. It reached him as a deadly sound, filling him with a terrible apprehension. A deep, persistent humming sound pervaded the whole room.
    Gannon led the group along one of the lengthy aisles between the machines, until they arrived at the main control panel. He viewed the dials and switches with an air of confidence.
    Dr. Gannon paused. Hands on hips, he looked about with an imperial gesture. “My friends,” he said, his voice vibrating as if he felt the moment was a dramatic one, “we are about to make scientific history,” he proclaimed, an ironic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
    “And some money, too,” reminded Letha.
    Gannon gave her a sideways look and brought Tony forward to face the array of controls. He turned to Tony and pointed to the big control panel on his right. “Now, Tony,” he said, determinedly, “I want you,“ he ordered in the same dramatic tone, “to shut down the furnace’s complete cooling system – including the emergency backup system!”
    At the order, the inner Tony went wild. With all the power he could muster, he shrieked, ~No! No! No! Don’t you dare! This is a terrible thing! NO! NO! NO!~
    Again the captive Tony hesitated, as if somewhere in the very remote distance, he had heard a faint dissenting voice. But the voice was much too small and far too remote to have any real effect upon the given order.
    He concentrated on the control panel.
    With android-like precision Tony began work and instantly the low droning hum emitted by the furnace began to change. It was replaced by an ominous wailing sound which slowly began to rise in both pitch and volume...
    * * *
    All over the plant various pieces of machinery slowed and suddenly came to a stop. Up in the main control room, situated at the top of the tall grey block immediately next to the furnace building, the duty monitor’s brow creased in a deep frown as he noticed two red warning lights begin to flash on his console. The ever-watchful monitor blinked at the panel in surprise and some uneasiness. Something was up with the cooling system. He called the operations officer over to take a look.
    “Hey, we’ve got red lights on the cooling system,” he announced.
    The operations officer hurried over and studied the panel. “Must be a circuit breaker, probably it’s only a circuit breaker,” he muttered. “Restart the system,” came the advice.
    The monitor pressed several buttons and punched up the correct sequence for a restart, but nothing happened. The red lights continued to wink. He cleared the board and tried again. Again he tried it. Again there was no response.
    The monitor shook his head worriedly. “I can’t get a restart!” he exclaimed anxiously.
    The operations officer tried to keep his head. “Hit the backup system,” he ordered. It was a command which hadn’t been heard before in the control room – to date, the backup system had never been required, for the primary one always functioned perfectly. The duty monitor’s fingers scrabbled with the lid of the little recessed box which contained the emergency backup button. He flicked it open and stabbed downwards.
    With his lip between his teeth, the monitor punched a new series of buttons. Once again nothing happened.
    The monitor swallowed and said tensely, “I’ve got a no-go on the backup!” he said feverishly. The sweat was beginning to collect around his temples.
    Then came the predictable call from the cooling system engineer beyond them who sat a yard or so to the monitor’s right, watching the thermostat indicators, turned from a meter and called sharply, “I’ve got the temperature increasing in the furnace!” he reported. “Let’s get that coolant flowing! Do something to get that coolant flowing!”
    Face tightening, the engineer turned back to his meter. His jaws clenched as he saw that the temperature was steadily rising.
    The operations officer hardly needed reminding of his responsibility to act, but for the moment he was stumped. How could both primary and backup systems be out of commission at the same time? The odds against it happening had been computed at a million to one. He moved across to the bank of telephones in order to alert the Director, Clearcole. But before he could do so, the furnace room phone began to ring. The telephone rang, and the operations officer picked it up, snatched it up. The voice on the other end of the line was deep and resonant. “Control?” it questioned. “Reactor control...”
    Down in the reactor room it was Dr. Gannon who was making the call while the others stood close, listening.
    “Control?” said the doctor. “You don’t really think you’re controlling anything, do you?”
    “Who – who is this?” demanded the operations officer.
    “I am Doctor Gannon,” the doctor began slowly, in the grand manner of one addressing a large audience, “my name is Doctor Victor Gannon, until this moment known only to a small segment of the scientific community. From this time forward, I’ll be known to the entire world.”
    “Yeah?” snapped the operations officer. “Look. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I haven’t time to fool...”
    “I’ve shut down your cooling system,” the doctor interrupted in a loud voice. The voice sounded unnervingly confident.
    “Okay... if you’ve shut it down... then put it back on!”
    “Victor,” Letha Wedge said quickly, “tell him just how expensive it is,” breathed Letha who was leaning close to the mouthpiece, “how expensive it will be to turn, to put it back on.”
    Dr. Gannon said, “The temperature in the furnace is getting hot, hot, hotter. In about an hour,” proceeded Gannon, “we will be serving grilled plutonium, medium rare, to the atmosphere... unless the following conditions are met.”
    “W-what conditions?”
    “Within the hour,” the doctor told him, “five million dollars cash... a jet waiting at the airport, and safe escort. Most importantly, you will announce that Doctor Victor Gannon has achieved molecular control and mind control, and that this is the first in a series of worldwide demonstrations of his power. Those wishing to align themselves with me should make their intentions known.”
    With that, Gannon hung upj replaced the receiver, put a possessive arm around Tony and turned to beam triumphantly at Letha, who was already trying to work out how many suitcases she would need to carry five million dollars.
    “Soon,” he said expansively, “we’ll not only be sitting on top of the world; we’ll own it.”
    Letha Wedge gave what was intended to be a smile. “How long, Victor, does it take to count five million dollars?”
    Outside, they heard a siren begin to wail and a steady banging start up behind the furnace door, as the guards tried fruitlessly to break their way in.
    * * *
    The inner Tony was just beginning to recover from his furious expenditure of energy, and his dismal failure to prevent what was happening now. For a moment he almost wished he could be philosophical like Alfred and take life as it comes. But that was impossible for him. He didn’t come from a race that would ever accept defeat or slavery, and he wasn’t about to accept it now.
    The trouble was that he had so little to fight with. Just his thoughts alone. And his thoughts, coming from such a small part of him and bottled up as he was, could hardly generate enough energy to keep a gnat on the prowl.
    Still, he’d twice made the captive Tony hesitate. The second hesitation had been longer than the first, so he’d gained a little.
    But it had been costly. The second time it had taken all the energy he could muster to slow the captive Tony down by a few seconds, and afterward he’d sort of blanked out for a while. Still, what mattered the cost if he could cause a delay?
    A delay, he suddenly realized, a delay of only a second or two – if it came at the right time – could easily mean victory for himself and the end of Dr. Gannon.
    The thing to do now was to watch and listen, and be ready if an opportunity came.
    Matters were already moving swiftly to a head. Somewhere a siren was beginning to wail a warning. There were sounds as if security guards were struggling to open the big steel door. Nor was it hard to imagine the excitement and fear throughout the entire plant as the deadly temperature in the furnace continued to rise to the explosive point. Probably, at this very moment, orders were being given to evacuate the area and to put the city on the alert.

Chapter 12: Red Alert. The Countdown
    The inner Tony was entirely right about what was happening in other parts of the plant. Besides going a little bit mad from tension – for it needed but a few more degrees of heat, and there would be nothing left to worry about – everyone was trying desperately to get stalled machinery going again, and to take the proper actions before it was too late.
    At an emergency meeting in the control room with the executives and the chief of staff, the operations officer was saying, “... We still don’t know how it happened. I just hope to heaven we can stop it from blowing in time. Are we going to pay them, Mr. Clearcole?”
    Mr. Clearcole, the chief of staff, was struggling to be calm. His big hand closed into a fist on the table, and he nodded. “We’ll have to pay the rascals. There’s no other way. Evacuate the area immediately, and put Los Angeles on the alert!”
    * * *
    Miles away on the edge of the city, Tia still had no idea of what was really happening. She had had the mental flash of a huge, round ball-like thing in which Tony was somehow concerned, and Crusher, who seemed to know what it was, was hurrying to lead her to it.
    Crusher rounded a corner, and Tia and the other Earthquakes followed, panting for breath. Crusher suddenly stopped and pointed excitedly.
    “There it is!” he cried. “There’s the ball!” yelled Crusher at the top of his voice. A wide self-satisfied smile was stitched across his face.
    They all stared at a huge white golf ball, perched on top of an equally enormous, giant tee, that stood on display outside the entrance to a golf club and which was being used to advertise a golf school and a driving range.
    The boys looked anxiously at Tia. “Is that it?” Muscles asked.
    Tia swallowed in disappointment and shook her head disappointedly. “No,” she said, fighting to hold back her tears. “That’s not it,” she sighed. If they didn’t find Tony soon, it might cost him his life. “It – it was even bigger,” she added. “It was much bigger than that.”
    Crusher was crestfallen. He’d been so sure about the big white ball – and now he had been made to look rather foolish. The other boys began to shove him around for having led them on a wild goose chase and shoved Crusher in frustration. “Aw, leave me alone willya?” he protested. “I was only tryin’!” he muttered.
    Disillusioned, they all moved back down the street, trying to think of other locations that might fit the description Tia had given them. But “big, white, round things’ (excluding the moon) didn’t come readily to mind. Then they were all still lost in thought as they rounded the corner and as a result, they practically walked straight into the arms of their most dreaded enemy.
    Then something caught his eye across the street. He pointed and gasped, “Hey, look!”
    Everyone turned and stared through the open gate of an auto wrecking yard, which was opposite the golf school. Parked near the entrance was the sad remains of the school minibus. Then, turning, Yoyo suddenly caught sight of them.
    Fortunately, Rocky noticed Yoyo just in time. “Oh, no!” said Rocky fearfully. “Hey – let’s get outta here, you guys,” he said anxiously, turning to make a run for it.
    But as he started to run, Mr. Yokomoto looked over at them and shook his head a little sadly, and waved them off. The other Earthquakes, on the point of flight, relaxed when they realized he was not going to chase them.
    The Earthquakes quickly saw that there was no reason to panic. The legendary Yoyo, scourge of the city’s truants, appeared not the least interested. In fact, he waved them away. He was standing hands thrust in pockets, outside the entrance to an auto wrecking yard, surveying the battered remains of his minibus, parked unceremoniously by the kerb. His normally sad face looked more doleful than ever. As the gang watched, he climbed up into the cab and began collecting together his personal items and stuffing them into his jacket pockets. Mr. Yokomoto, moving like a man in a daze, was slowly removing his personal belongings while the car radio blared raucously away. The radio, as if in defiance of being scrapped, was blaring out loud rock music. Yoyo thumped it, but it didn’t make any difference. In sudden anger Mr. Yokomoto struck the radio with his fist, but it continued to play.
    Tia and the Earthquakes approached the minibus warily. Dazzler shouted, “Whassamatter, Mr. Yoyo?” ventured Dazzler. “Don’t you wanna catch us?”
    For a moment, Yoyo simply continued collecting his things together. Then he lifted his bony shoulders in a tired shrug and gave the youngsters an abject, sour look. “It’s not my job anymore,” he said flatly. “I’ve been fired. They’re on their way down here to fire me and give me the pink slip.” He banged the radio again, but it only got louder. “All because I was trying to help you kids.”
    Again he struck at the radio, harder this time. The only effect was to make it play louder.
    Tia stood looking at the bulldoggish little man. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
    The Earthquakes felt a sudden surge of guilt. Yoyo wasn’t such a bad guy really, and they had never imagined that he would lose his job. In fact, they never thought of Yoyo having a job in the ordinary sense. To them, he was Yoyo the truant catcher: he had chased them ever since they had started school (or rather since they stopped going) and they naturally assumed he always would. If Yoyo wasn’t out to catch them any more, then being a truant wasn’t going to be half as much fun. Worse still, the Board of Education might give his job to someone who could run a lot faster – and that would be terrible.
    Muscles said, “I don’t trust him. Maybe he’s tryin’ to use some kinda of that si-cology, psychology trick on us,” whispered Muscles. But he didn’t really believe that, and neither did the rest of the gang.
    “I believe him,” Tia told him. “But everything that’s happened is my fault. I’ve got to apologize to him.”
    For what seemed a long time, the Earthquakes shuffled around, heads bowed, uncertain how to handle the situation. Finally, Tia crossed over into the wrecking yard. The Earthquakes stood watching her a moment, then followed uncertainly. She spoke up for all of them.
    Tia went up to the truant officer and said, “Mr. Yokomoto,” she said sympathetically, “we’re sorry... I’m awfully sorry about what happened. I’ll be glad to fix it.”
   The little man shook his head. “You’ve already fixed the bus, and my career as well. So don’t fix anything else.” Yoyo tried to smile graciously, but couldn’t manage it. He shook his head again, and sighed. “All I ever wanted out of life,” he explained, “was someday to have all the kids I put back into school come and visit me and say, “Thanks, Mr Yoyo... er... Yokomoto. If it wasn’t for you making me get an education, I’d be a creep today.” That’s all I ever wanted.” He sniffed, turned away, went back to rummaging under the dashboard and began taking some things out of the glove compartment.
    The youngsters felt lower than ever. The Earthquakes looked sheepishly at the truant officer, and then at each other. What could they do to make amends? This feeling of guilt was worse even than the thought of going back to school. Well, perhaps not quite that bad...
    Muscles said, “I told you he was gonna hit us with some heavy psychology. I mean, I feel sorta guilty!”
    Yoyo thumped the radio again, trying to silence the stream of rock music, but to no avail. There was a sudden blare of static on the bus radio. Mr. Yokomoto banged it angrily with his fist. Then, suddenly, as if in delayed reaction, the music began to fade away. A serious-voiced announcer came on to deliver an urgent news flash. Immediately there came the voice of a newscaster:
    “... and the danger to the city of radioactive fallout is increasing,” came the taut, even tones. “Experts are baffled as to how this condition mysteriously came about...”
    Yoyo scowled and banged the radio again. If it wasn’t bad music, it was bad news, he thought to himself. “Radios!” Mr. Yokomoto grumbled. “If it isn’t bad music, it’s bad news.”
    He was about to hit, bang it again when Tia called to him to stop, “Wait!” Tia cried.
    “An official,” continued the announcement, “describes the atomic furnace controls as seeming to be frozen in position, as if, quote, the molecular flow had been interrupted, unquote...”
    Tia put her hand over her forehead as there came to her abruptly a clearer view of the plutonium plant.
    Tia’s mind raced. It was Tony’s work – it had to be! Some evil scheme was afoot and Tony was being forced to supply the “mental muscle’ to carry it out. But where was he?
    “Tony!” she whispered.
    Everyone looked around at her. “What... Where?” Dazzler asked.
    “On the radio!” she told him. “Listen!”
    The radio droned on: “... that unless the demands of the terrorists are met, the furnace would explode with the force of ten megatons. The plutonium plant is being evacuated and...”
    Tia bit her lip. The plutonium plant! Yes, of course. Now the huge white sphere made sense: it must be the furnace building. “That’s where Tony is!” cried Tia. “We’ve got to go there! As fast as we can!”
    Mr. Yokomoto blinked at her. “Your truant brother – he is about to cause a radioactive holocaust...?”
    “It won’t happen if we can get there in time.” While she spoke she was looking desperately around at the wrecked cars.
    The Earthquakes hesitated. The plutonium plant was over five miles away. Muscles said, “How we gonna get there in time? I mean, what are we gonna do... take a bus?” asked Muscles.
    Tia’s frantically searching eyes settled on the minibus. Anxiously she studied it. Tia shook her head. All at once she said, “We’ll go in this,” she said, placing a hand on the mangled minibus. “We’ll go in that!”
    Lips compressed, she went over to the battered remains of the minibus and touched it with her hand.
    Yoyo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Before he could say anything, strange sounds began to issue from beneath the hood. A slow grinding sound was heard as the starter began to turn. It was agonizing to listen to it.
    “Hey...” Mr. Yokomoto said uneasily. “What – what is this?”
    The motor choked, then it began to gasp and wheeze as the starter continued to crank it. Suddenly black smoke was pouring from the exhaust pipe.
    Rocky cried, “Tia’s doing it again!”
    Now everyone crowded around the minibus. Mr. Yokomoto could only stare at it with his mouth hanging open, beyond words.
    Tia, concentrating, put her other hand to the front of the motor. Energized, the starter motor whirred noisily and, with a grinding screech, brought the engine stammering into life. It burst into life with a loud, painful sound, vibrating and trembling violently. But second by second the sound became stronger and steadier. Coughing and wheezing, the minibus began to belch black smoke from its exhaust. The chassis shook violently as the engine picked up.
    Crusher burst out, “Hey, Tia! We got two flats!”
    She turned and looked as he pointed at the flat tires, and she energized them quickly.
    As they inflated, Mr. Yokomoto stared at them, then kicked one and looked at Tia. “How... how... how...?”
    Tia cried, “It’s ready! Hurry!”
    The Earthquakes let out a wild cheer, dragged and piled into the minibus, pushing past a totally bemused Yoyo aboard, and got in themselves through whatever opening they could find. They were airborne again, and loving every minute of it. The little man protested loudly, but found himself thrust into the driver’s seat. Tia shoved Yoyo across behind the steering wheel and sat down next to him.
    The transmission began to grind, and with Tia’s help slid into gear. Abruptly the minibus leaped forward.
    “Oh no...” said Yoyo, remembering back to last time. “Oh, no! No!” Mr. Yokomoto cried. “It’s happening again!”
    But the anxiety went unheeded. Shaking and chugging, the battered minibus roared into the street. With a little help from Tia, the minibus crunched into gear and jerked fitfully out into the traffic. Engine wailing, it jumped ahead spasmodically at first, kangaroo-hopped away down the street, but as it picked up speed it began weaving precariously in and out of traffic, going faster and faster.
    Truck drivers, hearing the strange roar of its approach, looked around apprehensively and gasped in disbelief as the dented wreck shot past. It was gone almost before they could see it, easily dodging oncoming vehicles and leaping safely into openings that hardly seemed to exist.
    Mr. Yokomoto, clutching the wheel with white-knuckled hands but not really controlling it, was more terrified than he had ever been. He was constantly closing his eyes when it seemed that a crash was inevitable, and his foot, jumping ineffectively from the accelerator to the brake, was never still for a moment. It was beyond him to comprehend that Tia was in complete control, not only of the minibus but of the oncoming traffic, causing it to slow, stop, or turn away.
    The Earthquakes, used to Tia’s ways by now, were enjoying every minute of it, and making it a nightmare for Mr. Yokomoto by shouting advice. “Faster – faster!” “Look out for that guy!” “Climb over that one!” or “Cut him off! Cut him off!”
    In desperation Mr. Yokomoto finally screamed, “Shut up! Be quiet! Can’t you see I’m concentrating?”
    Presently the city was behind them and the minibus was roaring through the hills. As it reached the crest of a long hill, Rocky suddenly yelled to the others and pointed.
    “There it is!” he cried. “The ball! The big ball!”
    It was the great round dome of the reactor of the plutonium plant.
    The minibus was making a terrible racket as it tore down the last stretch of the road to the gate. Cars and trucks and hastily moving people were leaving the plant, but only one vehicle was entering the gate. This was an armored truck; it was being admitted by a guard who was standing where the gatehouse had been earlier.
    Just before they reached it, the armored truck drove through, and the gate was lowered. The guard stood behind it and signaled them to stop.
    Mr. Yokomoto began kicking frantically at the brake while he struggled to turn the wheel.
    Tia cried, “Keep going!”
    She energized the gate, which started to rise. The guard grabbed it and tried to hold it down, but it continued to go up, carrying him with it. The minibus sped under him, headed for the reactor.
    * * *
    Clearcole, the plant’s Director, had no choice. In the past fifteen minutes, since he had arrived in the main control room, he had been on the hot line to both the city Mayor and the President. They were of the same opinion: like it or not, the money would have to be paid. The risk of the furnace exploding and the subsequent dangers of radiation could not be taken.
    The control room was a flurry of frenzied activity. Phones jangled, red lights pulsed and engineers rushed madly to and fro. Outside, the sound of raised voices and clattering footsteps informed Clearcole that his evacuation procedures were already under way. Close by, the chief engineer swivelled round on his seat and thrust a finger towards the large temperature meter in front of him. “Sir,” he reported tersely, “if the furnace doesn’t start cooling soon, the chain reaction will start.”
    Clearcole’s mouth tightened and he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. He looked across the room to where a trio of uniformed guards were grouped around a pile of hefty cash boxes. They were still awaiting a further delivery from government vaults, to bring the money up to the demanded amount.
    Time was running out. Clearcole simply couldn’t stand around and do nothing. Making a sudden decision, he stepped across to the telephones, and picked up the one marked “Furnace room’.
    “Yes?” Gannon’s voice was cool and sinister.
    “This is Clearcole. The situation is critical. In ten minutes, this place will be a hole in the ground. We now have three and a half million dollars here in the control room. Let’s be reasonable. Accept it and turn the cooling system back on.”
    In the furnace room of the plutonium plant, while evacuation was beginning outside, the meter indicated that the temperature had risen dangerously close to the red line. Dr. Gannon ignored it while he spoke over the telephone to the chief of staff.
    “You say you’ve scraped two million together?”
    “That’s what I said,” Mr. Clearcole replied. “Two million.”
    Clearcole fancied he heard a scuffle at the other end of the line, and an excited woman’s voice saying “It’s a deal!” but then Gannon was back on the line, sounding more determined than ever.
    “Good start,” said the doctor. “Now you’ve only got three more to go, and fifteen minutes to get it in.”
    Letha Wedge, who was standing nervously by with Sickle, suddenly interrupted him. “Victor, it’s terribly hot in here – and two million sounds terribly good to me. Why don’t we take it?”
    Dr. Gannon said coldly, “Five million is terribly better. I don’t compromise,” he said forcibly. “I don’t make compromises. Do you hear me, Mr. Clearcole?”
    “I hear you! Now you listen to my engineer.”
    A new voice on the telephone said, “If it doesn’t start cooling in a very few minutes, there’ll be a chain reaction, then everything—”
    “Hear that?” Mr. Clearcole cut in. “We’re just about at the point of no return. Another truck-load has just come in, and now we have three and a half-million dollars here in the control room. The balance is on the way.”
    “Call me when you’ve got it all,” Dr. Gannon said.
    “Wait a minute!” the chief of staff begged. “We’re almost redlining! In less than ten minutes this place will be a hole in the ground!”
    Dr. Gannon hung up and then the phone went dead. Above him in the control room Mr. Clearcole looked grimly at the dead phone in his hand, then hung it up. His hand balled into a fist and he slammed it down on his desk in anger and frustration.
    “Evacuate everyone!” he ordered. “Call the Governor and the Mayor. Now I want volunteers for a skeleton crew to stay on a short while...”
    * * *
    Outside, after Mr. Clearcole had given the final evacuation order, there was sudden frantic activity. In the midst of this Yoyo’s minibus swept into the plutonium plant doing more than ninety miles per hour. The gatehouse and barrier that would normally have been there to stop it were by this time over halfway to the state line on the back of a truck.
    The hectic bustle of evacuating personnel made the minibus zigzag madly on its headlong dash towards the furnace. It came screeching and spinning to a halt. It’s tyres shrieked agonizingly as it whipped around a right-angled bend and skidded to a stop outside the big white dome. As the motor choked off with a loud bang, everyone jumped away as if it, too, was on the point of exploding.
    Tia and the Earthquakes piled, leapt out, dashed across to the control block and raced into the building, followed by an unhappy and bewildered Mr. Yokomoto. Inside, Tia commandeered an elevator and the group with Yoyo puffing along at the rear shot up towards the control room. The doors slid open to reveal a scene of near-panic, as the engineers struggled to prevent the furnace from overheating.
    In the control room Tia ran into a worse frenzy than she had found outside. The desks were piled with money that men were madly counting; others were running back and forth with papers in their hands, or shouting over the telephones.
    The dour-faced Clearcole was shouting orders in all directions, racing from one console to the next, sweating profusely. He almost collided with Tia and the Earthquakes as they tumbled out of the elevator. Mr. Clearcole, seeing her and the Earthquakes, snapped to the captain of the guard. “Hey,” he called to his chief of security, “we can’t have sightseeing tours at a time like this! Get those sightseeing kids out of here! This is no time—”
    Tia grabbed his sleeve in desperation. “Sir,” said Tia, “the people who are trying to destroy the furnace have kidnapped my brother,” she explained. “If I could see him, I might be able to stop them.”
    Behind her, the Earthquakes lent their noisy support to the idea. “She can do it!” the Earthquakes said together.
    Even Yoyo looked encouraging. “You bet she can!” Mr. Yokomoto added, then gave his head a little shake and murmured, “Do what?”
    But Clearcole was a practical, level-headed man. He couldn’t see how a young girl like Tia could even begin to help matters. The chief of staff looked grimly at Tia and said, “It’s impossible,” he replied, “Impossible! They’re inside the furnace room, and they’ve sealed the door somehow.”
    “What part of the furnace has to be fixed?” Tia asked.
    “The emergency cooling system.”
    “What part of the furnace has to be fixed?” persisted Tia.
    “The emergency cooling system.”
    “Where is it?”
    “Five levels down,” he told her. “But it’s almost too late. We’re evacuating the plant in a minute or two.” He turned away from her and barked to a uniformed man with a sack, “Put that money on the table!”
    That was all Tia needed to know. Turning on her heels, she looked quickly around, located the elevator, rushed back and ran to it, jumped in, and pressed the button. The Earthquakes followed close behind. At the sight of them she bit her lip and shook her head.
    “You’d better leave,” she said.
    “Naw!” they said, almost as one. “We’re stickin’ with you!”
    The elevator door opened and they poured into it just managing to squeeze in behind Tia as she jabbed the button for the furnace room.
    Seeing them, Mr. Yokomoto cried, “Come back here!” He rushed to the elevator, but Yoyo wasn’t so lucky. His short stride brought him to the elevator just in time to have the doors hiss shut and closed in his face. “Come back!” he shouted, thumping the wall uselessly.
    But Tia had no intention of coming back – at least not without her brother. One quick elevator ride later, the elevator opened upon the furnace room corridor. Tia and the others Earthquakes ran out and rushed toward the steel door at the end, they were pounding along the corridor towards the furnace room. They failed to see Dolan, who was still stuck to the ceiling.
    “Help me!” Dolan cried. “Get me down! Help!”
    They braked sharply as they came in sight of Dolan, who was still struggling to unglue himself from the ceiling. “Get me down from here!” he pleaded.
    They stopped short and looked up at him. The youngsters were clearly on the right track. Rocky said, “Tony’s here, all right.”
    Obligingly, Tia energized, de-gravitated Dolan and lowered him carefully and gently to the floor.
    The guard, greatly relieved, thanked them warmly. “Thanks,” he said, wiping a relieved hand over his forehead, and then said, “But hang on a minute... Er, where are you going?”
    Tia nodded to the big steel door. “In there,” said Tia, indicating the furnace room.
    “Oh, no!” said Dolan holding out his arms to bar their way. “You can’t go past this point without an I.D.” He held out his arms, blocking them.
    The warning was instantly regretted. Tia shook her head and levitated him back to the ceiling. As Tia levitated him smoothly back up to the ceiling, he made a mental note to bring along a pair of magnetic boots for his next stint of guard duty.
    Smiling and leaving him gasping and protesting, the youngsters ran under him to the door, passed through unhindered and arrived at the great furnace door.
    Tia quickly energized the big steel door. For the second time that day, it was energized and made to swing smoothly open. As it unsealed itself and swung open, she ran inside. The gang stepped inside. At the frightening hum and the heat, the Earthquakes hesitated, then they pulled themselves together and followed. The door swung shut behind them. As the door eased shut behind them, the smiles faded quickly from their eager faces. The air was electric with a sense of impending danger. The struggle for control of the furnace room was on.

Chapter 13: Furnace Room. The Duel
    Tia found herself on a catwalk looking down. Tia edged cautiously along the narrow catwalk, keeping as low as possible, with the Earthquakes in single file behind her. From here, she reasoned, they would have a better chance of locating the enemy than down amongst the maze of machinery on the furnace-floor. The height might even give them the advantage of surprise, too.
    She was right on the first point, at least. Rounding a sharp bend in the catwalk, the five youngsters came to a sudden halt. Almost immediately she saw Tony below her. Tony and his captors were standing some twenty feet below, grouped in front of the furnace-control panel. Tia paused for a moment to marshal her thoughts. There was no hope of a sneak attack as the group was in a relatively open position, at the end of one of the aisles. There was only one thing for it: she must catch her brother’s attention and attempt to break through the powerful influence that Gannon held over him.
    Rising up, she leant forward over the steel handrail and yelled, “Tony!” at the top of her voice. “Tony!” she cried. “Tony!”
    Tia’s sudden and entirely unexpected appearance came as a great shock to Dr. Gannon, who was the first to look up and see her. The unpleasant knowledge of what she was capable of doing held him momentarily speechless.
    Then he gasped her name, and both Sickle and Letha Wedge turned to stare at her and the four boys with her.
    Down below, the four startled figures span around and looked up. Letha gestured in exasperation. “I knew it!” she groaned. “She’ll spoil everything! I can taste the money! We can’t let her take it away from us!”
    “How did she get away?” Letha said in a tight voice.
    Tia was more interested in her brother than the money. Apart from sisterly loyalties, Tony would know how to turn the cooling system back on. Tia achieved eye contact with him, and put everything she had into breaking through the invisible barrier that surrounded his mind. Slowly, very slowly, he began to respond. A deep frown appeared on his forehead and his eyes flickered with the ghost of an expression. His mind was in turmoil.
    The doctor had been holding the control unit near his mouth when Tia’s name escaped from him. At the sound of it Tony automatically turned to face her, but he showed no sign of recognition. The inner Tony, however, gave a soundless yell of delight. ~Good old Alfred!~ he cried. ~He found your friends! Now we’ll beat these devils!~
    Even though he knew it would be next to impossible to call to her with enough force to attract her attention, he was on the point of trying it anyway when he realized she was looking directly at him. Suddenly he could feel the impact of her mind as it was directed toward his captive self.
    ~Tony,~ she began, speaking telepathically. ~Tony, listen to me! I am your sister, Tia, and those people you are with are our enemies. They’ve put us in great danger! You must break away from them, quickly, and run to the door! Tony...!~
    She was beginning to get through, for suddenly the inner Tony could feel signs of indecision and turmoil within his captive self. Immediately, with all the force he could muster, he began adding his own thoughts to Tia’s. ~Do what she says!~ he ordered. ~They are our enemies! Break away from them! Run for the door – Now!~
    With a little more time it might have worked. But Dr. Gannon had seen the danger signals and realized what was happening. Ducking out of sight behind the machinery and slipped behind the switchboard, out of Tia’s sight, he whipped the control unit up to his mouth and spoke hurriedly into the control unit.
    “Tony,” he ordered, “from this moment you cannot hear Tia,” he whispered commandingly. “She cannot break through my power control. Acknowledge.”
    The deep, will-sapping voice was irresistible. Turmoil ceased within the captive Tony, Tony’s mind went blank, his face returned to lifelessness and he became a mindless wooden figure again. “Yes, sir,” he responded dutifully.
    The inner Tony groaned and almost collapsed from the effort he had made. He’d acted a little too soon. There’ll be another chance, he assured himself. He’d better save his tiny speck of energy, and not turn it on till he was absolutely sure of the moment...
    Gannon bared his teeth in a self-satisfied grin. The first round was his: now to make the best of his advantage. He waved frantically to Letha and Sickle. Dr. Gannon called Sickle and Letha over to the safety area behind the switchboard. “Get those kids!” he told them. “Fast!” he ordered, pointing to the stairway.
    Letha hesitated. “But – but that awful little monster of a Tia,” Letha protested. “But she’ll do those molecule things to us!” she complained.
    “I’ll take care of Tia and get her before she gets and has a chance to,” reassured Gannon. “You two get the others.”
    Reluctantly, Letha and her nephew Sickle started towards and up the stairs. Directly above them, Tia still resolved to make another attempt to get Tony’s attention and fought to free Tony’s mind, not realizing that she had already lost the battle. Desperately, and with all the power she could summon, she called to him again as she had before: ~Tony, you’ve got to listen to me! I’m Tia. Try to remember me. Try to remember Witch Mountain! Try to remember the planet of the two suns!~ There was not the slightest response to her plea.
    Her frustration changed quickly to fright, for she was all too conscious of the swift passage of time. Her hands clenched as she turned to the Earthquakes.
    Suddenly, she broke off concentration and turned to Dazzler. “I can’t get through to him,” she told them hurriedly. “I don’t know what they’ve done to his mind,” she said dejectedly. “We’ll have to find the emergency cooling system switches ourselves. It’ll be down below somewhere...” So saying, she began to run back along the catwalk, searching for the nearest stairway.
    “How do you spell “cooling”?” called Dazzler-Rocky as he chased after her and they ran along the catwalk to the stairs.
    There was no time for English lessons. The stairway that the five youngsters chose to go down turned out to be the same one that Letha and Sickle were ascending. Before she could answer him they were at the turn of the stairs, and suddenly they were confronted by Letha Wedge and her muscular nephew. They met on a narrow landing in the middle. Tia flashed past them without trouble, for it was obvious that neither of them wanted to run the risk of touching her. But with the Earthquakes it was an immediate scramble, punctuated by yells and swinging fists and furious kicks to adult shins. Sickle tried to sweep Rocky and Crusher up together, but they were a shade too fast for him and ducked beneath his long, bony reach. Letha, less ambitious, made a wild grab for Muscles, but a nicely-timed feint wrong-footed her and she missed her target. In seconds the youngsters were free, bounded on down the remaining steps and following Tia out upon and on to the furnace room floor.
    “Find the emergency switch!” shouted Tia and the group scattered in all directions, searching even while Letha and Sickle came angrily after them. It was a good move, for not only did it increase the speed of the youngsters’ search, it also made them more difficult to catch – as Letha and Sickle were about to find out.
    Tia had gone about halfway down one of the central aisles when she slithered to a halt before one of the many control panels that were dotted around the hall. Turning to study it, she failed to notice that Gannon (with Tony in tow) had cut across to intercept her and was eyeing her closely from behind the cover of throbbing machinery. Dr. Gannon, from his hiding place, watched her with growing concern as she stopped to look at a switchboard. Suddenly he spoke into his control unit: “Tony,” he hissed, “we must eliminate Tia – now! We... you will cause that portable utility panel to run her down!”
    In instant obedience to the murderous command, the captive Tony turned to a ponderous, four-wheeled utility panel. Tony’s eyes flicked across to the proposed weapon: a waist-high, box-like piece of equipment mounted on four small wheels. He energized it, sent it rolling swiftly in Tia’s direction and it rolled rapidly towards its mark.
    At the same moment the inner Tony, realizing the futility of attempting to stop the action in time, cried out a warning: ~Tia! Tia! Watch out! Watch Out!~
    Something in his cry must have reached her, for Tia, intent upon her search for the switch, suddenly turned and saw the heavy panel bearing down on her. Had the mobile unit been without the benefit of rubber wheels, Tia might have heard it coming a second sooner than she did. As it was, she had very little time to react. The unit came trundling towards her, and she tried and managed to sidestep it out of the way. When it whirled, corrected course back towards her and followed her, she realized it was energized. When it was only a few feet from her in the nick of time, she brought her own powers to bear, again sidestepped it and was able to de-energize it and caused it to swerve. The panel swerved aside, skimmed by her with inches to spare and slammed with explosive force into the steel wall, struck the wall with a thunderous crash, scattering parts and fittings over the furnace room floor.
    Tia’s fear rose dangerously close to panic when she glimpsed the temperature meter and saw that the needle had reached the red line and was now creeping above it. Beyond it, steam was beginning to hiss in frightening clouds from a bank of pressure valves.
    Across from Tia, Crusher was running past a panel that was clearly marked Emergency Cooling System. He stopped and came back and stared at it, frowning. Then he turned quickly and grabbed Rocky, who was running by. “What’s that sign say?” Crusher asked.
    Rocky looked hard at it. “No smokin’...?”
    “I – I better get Tia!”
    Tia was still picking herself up off the floor when Crusher spun about, suddenly appeared around the corner, saw Tia across the room, beckoned to her and yelled, “Tia! C’mere!”
    She raced over and followed him as he ran down another of the aisles. When they came to a halt, Crusher pointed to a complex panel of switches, pointed to the panel and said, “That ain’t it, right?”
    Tia heaved a sigh of relief. “You found it!” Tia exclaimed. He had found the cooling system controls.
    “I knew that was it!” Crusher said. “Only they got it spelt wrong.”
    Tia hardly heard him. Hands clenched, she closed her eyes and was already concentrating on it. Re-energized, the switches unlocked and clicked on. Immediately, the circuitry was unjammed and the precious coolant began to flow again. Gradually, the high-pitched jet roar of the overheating furnace began to drop to a steady hum.
    Up in the nearly deserted control room, the monitor was hurriedly getting ready to leave with the last of the volunteers who had remained on-duty. He started out, paused, and glanced back for a final look at the console. At that moment the console panels suddenly lighted up.
    “Cooling system’s on!” he yelled.
    Down in the furnace room Dr. Garmon, still crouched in his place of safety well out of sight of Tia, saw the cooling system lights come on at the same time.
    He swore, the first sign that his iron control was slipping, and spoke tersely into the microphone of his unit, “Tony, switch the cooling system off again!”
    Tony did an about-face and stared at the distant panel. The switches clicked off.
    Up in the control room the monitor put his hands to his head and groaned. “We’ve lost it again!” Everyone groaned with him.
    Tia was still standing near the panel when it happened. She saw Tony, across from her, staring at it, and turned instantly and saw the lights were out. Immediately she re-energized the switches. The lights came on and once again the coolant began to flow.
    Upstairs there were sudden cheers, but down in the furnace room there was mad activity while the Earthquakes continued to dodge and fight off their disheveled and angry pursuers, who could not move nearly as fast. Dr. Gannon was in a fury.
    But Gannon wasn’t finished yet. For him, all that mattered was to eliminate Tia. Once that was done, he could easily put the cooling system out of action again.
    Cursing, his eyes flicked desperately from one piece of equipment to another, and settled on a heavy transformer a few yards to one side of Tia. She had to be disposed of, and quickly.
    He grabbed Tony roughly by the arm. “Tony,” the doctor rapped into his control unit, “You’ve got to get her this time – without fail!” he growled. “Levitate that transformer to the left of her – and hit her with it! Hit her hard!”
    Tony’s gaze turned dutifully in the direction of the particular transformer, for there were others on the floor, and energized it. Accordingly, one of the huge 1,000-pound transformers that were stored at the base of the wall, began to rise slowly in the air. As it began to rise, the inner Tony gave another silent cry of warning: ~Tia! Tia! Watch out behind you!~ Then, like a VTOL jet, it suddenly flashed towards its target.
    Crusher yelped fearfully, but Tia stayed calm. Tia swerved around, saw the thing rising, and, thinking quickly, instantly energized and levitated another of the transformers near it. She sent it flying through the air on an interception course and caused the two units to collide in midair. Her timing was perfect and the two heavy missiles collided with a tremendous crash, disintegrating and raining a shower of fragments down on to the floor. Tia and Crusher dived for cover.
    Dr. Gannon, by now in a dangerous state of frustration, watched the things smash together and litter the floor with scrap. Gannon seethed. He had to find a way to stop this interfering young whelp. He cursed furiously, then his eye lit upon and alighted on an untidy pile of metal piping, a half-dozen steel pipes on the floor beyond the wreckage of the transformers. “Tony,” he commanded, boiling with frustration, “those pipes, Tony,” he ordered. “Throw them, those metal pipes at her! Spear her with them! And don’t you miss this time!”
    Tony levitated the pipes and sent them flying toward Tia. Half a dozen of the long steel pipes raised themselves to shoulder-height. They hovered for a moment, then, like shafts loosed from a bow, swished away towards their target. Gannon gritted his teeth.
    But Tia thwarted him again. At the last second, she saw them coming, and hurriedly energized a big metal cabinet and brought, held it across in front of her body, like a shield. With it she managed to deflect the pipes and send them clanging against the wall. The steel arrows thudded harmlessly home. Touché. Letha Wedge narrowly missed being brained by one while trying to corner Muscles.
    From his hiding place Dr. Gannon peered cautiously out at Tia and cursed. For the first time since his discovery of Tony, he was beginning to regret that he had ever met the boy, not to speak of making a captive of him. Who would have dreamed that there would be a sister with the same incredible powers, a frail little person who probably could hold her own with the mightiest man on earth! It was frightening to realize what she could do to him. In a matter of seconds, if the chance came, she could wreck all his plans and put an end to his career as a scientist. But she mustn’t be given that chance. Somehow he must put an end to her, and very quickly.
    His eyes, desperately searching, glanced upward. He had heard shouts from above and now he could see the struggling figures of Letha, Sickle and the three boys up on the catwalk. His partners didn’t appear to be doing any better than he was.
    Then he caught sight of the big gantry crane with a heavy load of steel plates suspended from it and the idea came to him in a flash. That will do it, he told himself. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before?
    But it will have to be handled in a different way this time. There should be a plan...
    Suddenly his jaws knotted with decision, and he spoke into the control unit: “Tony, listen very carefully, Tony,” he said evenly. “You will now pretend to remember Tia, understand? You will talk to her... lure her to the centre of the aisle of the room.” His eyes flicked upwards. “Then you will cause the crane to drop its cargo on her. Is that clear?” Tony nodded, quite impassive, his face as cold and devoid of expression as a robot’s, gave a mechanical nod.
    “Good!” said the doctor. Then go now,” prompted Gannon. “Now call to her!”
    Immediately Tony stepped out into the aisle, where he knew Tia could see him. At first, his expression was as vacant as ever. Then, convulsively, he jerked a hand to his forehead and allowed a confused smile to spread across his face. Tony’s expression changed. A confused smile softened his face. He put his hands to his head as if it ached.
    He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Tia...” he began. “Tia...” he said unsteadily. He pronounced the name as though it were a foreign word.
    Tia emerged cautiously from behind the battered cabinet, spun about and looked at him hopefully. Her heart lifted. “Tony...?” she questioned, hopefully.
    Her brother Tony took a few uncertain steps toward her and said hesitantly, “I – I’m starting to remember you... Tia...”
    Tia couldn’t believe her ears. Tia moved forward a few paces. Was Tony finally regaining his senses? She took another step forward. “Your voice sounds so strange, Tony,” she said. “What’s the matter with you? What’s wrong?”
    “I – I don’t know... exactly. But I – I need your help.”
    “I came here to help you,” she said. “You’ll be all right now.”
    From his hiding place Dr. Gannon whispered into the control, “Tell her to come closer to you,” hissed Gannon into the control unit.
    Tony held out his hands helplessly to Tia. “Tia,” said Tony, stretching out his hand, “take my... hand, Tia,” he said uncertainly, his voice weak. “Get... me out of here...”
    Tia began walking towards her brother, started toward him anxiously, stepping carefully through the debris of the smashed transformers. Her heart pounded madly.
    When she was directly under the load, Tony said, “Stop there! Don’t come any closer!” shouted Tony, arms raised in warning.
    The inner Tony cried, ~Go back! Go back! You’re in danger!~
    Tia stopped, not immediately aware of the tiny voice within her mind. “Why not?” said Tia, coming to a standstill. “Why?” she said. “What’s wrong?” The massive container hanging from the crane loomed over her.
    “Er... because of the radiation.”
    “But radiation isn’t a problem with us.” Tia received her first shudder of suspicion. Tia frowned and studied him suspiciously. Why was Tony being so illogical?
    “Drop it on her, Tony!” Dr. Gannon whispered quickly into the control. “Drop it on her, Tony!” shouted Gannon, unable to contain his voice any longer.
    The captive Tony’s eyes flicked upward. He energized the load. The inner Tony fairly screamed, ~Watch it! There’s danger overhead.~
    This time the tiny voice reached her. She glanced up just as the heavy load began to drop.
    Tia watched in horror as the square shadow in which she was standing shrank to a third of its size in the space of a heartbeat. Even before she looked up she felt a horrible rush of air on the back of her neck. With split seconds to spare, she energized the container and it came to a shuddering halt inches above her head.
    Tia quickly counteracted the energy and the load came to a sudden stop, inches above her head. It seemed to float there in the air in spite of its tremendous weight.
    The suspense and uncertainty were all at once more than Dr. Gannon could stand. Abruptly he leapt out, sprang from his concealment and hiding place. “Crush her, Tony!” he ordered hoarsely. “Tony,” he yelled, “exert a force greater than hers! Crush her! Crush her!”
    The heavy load started downward again as Tony re-energized it. But the inner Tony was pounding furiously away in his skull: ~No! No! Stop it! Stop it!~
    Again and again the furious pounding was repeated: ~No! Stop it! Stop it! No! No! Stop it!~
    It seemed to have no effect at first, for Tia was quickly forced to her knees and began trying desperately to scramble away while she sought to bring the load to a stop.
    Abruptly the weight of the container began to increase. The force of gravity and the power of Tony combined were too much for Tia. Slowly, agonizingly, she began to sink beneath the enormous weight. “Tony, no...” she pleaded. But her cries went unheeded. Pressed down to the floor, Tia called on every ounce of her mental strength to keep the container from squashing her into a pancake.
    Then, all of a sudden, the load wavered and grew light. Glimpsing Tony, she was startled by the look of confusion on his face. He seemed to be struggling against conflicting orders.
    Beyond him at the same moment she saw Dr. Gannon, and heard him shout angrily into his control unit: “Finish her, Tony!” demanded Gannon. “Finish her now!” He was obsessed with the thought of his imminent triumph. Too obsessed in fact, for his own good.
    That one quick glimpse was all she needed to realize what the control unit was. As Tia lay there, fighting for her life, she realized for the first time what was keeping Tony’s mind enslaved: it was the device Gannon held in his right hand. Instantly, she knew exactly what to do. She instantly concentrated on it.
    Gannon practically jumped out of his skin as Tia’s diverted flow of energy spun the control unit out of his hand. The thing suddenly crackled amid a shower of sparks, and smoke shot from it.
    The doctor dropped it. It curved through the air, trailing a slipstream of bright red sparks and crash-landed on the floor in a puff of blue smoke. Gannon let out a frantic gasp and scrabbled to retrieve it.
    The load came down, pressing Tia to the floor.

Chapter 14: Turnabout
    In the brief second Tia had taken her attention from the load. It had slipped down until the cable holding it to the gantry crane had used up its slack and tightened. Even so, she managed to stop it before it pressed too close.
    Tia was off the hook. Now, without Tony’s force behind it and power to fight, the metal container presented no problem at all. Tia quickly sent it easily on the rise and levitated it back up to the crane just as the Earthquakes came to pull her out from under it. Crusher dashed across to help her to her feet.
    “You – you all right, Tia?” asked a frightened Muscles as he helped her to her feet.
    “I’m all right,” she said, looking anxiously around for Tony.
    Recovering quickly she saw him across the room, not far from Dr. Gannon. The doctor was scrambling about on hands and knees, trying vainly to overtake the control unit, which was hopping around like a frog, giving off smoke and sparks. She raced to Tony, who was staggering blindly in a circle, wincing in pain, hands over his ears as if he were in pain. Tony had both hands clamped over his right ear.
    She reached out and grabbed her brother. “Tony, look at me!” she demanded.
    He twisted his head from side to side. “It hurts,” he cried.
    “Tony!” she cried, spinning him around. “Tony – look at me!”
    “Tia... Tia...” he said weakly in his misery. “Where – where are you? They hurt... they hurt!”
    His unsteady hands were fumbling behind his ears. Carefully, Tia prised Tony’s hands away from his ear, looked quickly at the back of his head and found the tiny receptor almost immediately. She saw the receptors. With a little gasp, she concentrated on the enslaving mechanisms, and they detached themselves and fell to the floor. She quickly removed it and flung it to the floor, crushing it underfoot.
    Instantly, Tony’s pain ceased. Tony’s agony stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at her while he slowly rubbed his forehead. He was himself again.
    “Tia!” he exclaimed, bewildered. “Where are we? What’s happened?” he managed to say at last. “What – where – how did you...?”
    By way of reply, Tia reached forward and placed the palms of her hands either side of Tony’s head. “I’ll bring you up to date,” she said, and put her hands over his ears. In this way, they achieved total telepathic communion. An instant telepathic communication took place. He saw everything that had happened to her from that moment, days ago, when he left her at the taxi after it had run out of gas. In the space of a few seconds, Tia updated Tony with all the events of the past five days: his capture; the raid on the museum; the chase; the crash; the trap at the laboratory; the fight in the furnace room. Every detail was instantly digested.
    “I did all that?” asked Tony, amazed. “And he made me do it?” he added, pointing to Gannon. “What a time you had!” he exclaimed.
    “What a time you had!” she said. “Alfred told me there was a part of you that – that—”
    “That was sort of bottled up inside of me, and escaped control. I could see most of what was going on, but I couldn’t do much about it.”
    “I think you did a lot about it,” she told him gratefully.
    “I couldn’t stop the other part of me from doing the things it did,” he said. “All I could do was sort of slow it down.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Anyway, it’s sure great to be whole again!”
    Tia nodded. He opened his eyes and saw Dr. Gannon scampering after the elusive and still sparking and smoking control unit. They turned to look at the distraught Gannon as he scurried around after his control unit which was hopping and jumping like a firecracker. Eventually, he managed to grab it but not for long.
    The hate Tony’d felt earlier rose again. He could easily have flipped the man off his feet and smashed him against the wall, but unlike the doctor he did not want to kill anyone. Instead he concentrated on the control unit and caused it to stop. When the doctor pounced upon it, Tony energized the unit, made it blow and it blew apart to pieces in Gannon’s hands with a flash and a black cloud of smoke, leaving him with a pile of ashes and a surprised – and very blackened – face.
    But Gannon still didn’t give up. Dr. Gannon, face blackened, staggered to his feet. His mouth twisted in anguish as he looked at the complete wreckage of his prized unit.
    “Tony,” he pleaded, struggling for speech. “Tony,” he begged, “please... it isn’t too late! We – we can still make use of molecular control!”
    Tony pretended to think it over and about it for a moment. “Okay, Doctor,” he said finally. “Let’s do it!”
    It wasn’t quite what Gannon was expecting. His mouth sagged open as he began to rise straight up into the air. Held helpless in Tony’s energizing grip, he was made to turn a series of spectacular twists and somersaults. Eventually, Tony sent Dr. Gannon high up to the roof, levitated him in a series of somersaults upward to the end of the gantry crane and deposited him on, flipped him upon a small narrow wooden lifting platform suspended by wires from a hook. Though fairly safe, it was a frightening unstable seat, and the doctor clutched fearfully at the thin supporting wires, clung to the wires with a death-defying grip, looking down fearfully, trembling like a leaf and begging hoarsely for help. “Help,” he croaked, in a barely audible voice. “Help...”
    Tia clapped her hands and said, “Oh, doesn’t he look lovely up there?”
    “He really does!” Tony agreed. “Now, if he just had some company...”
    Right on cue at that moment Letha Wedge emerged from the depths of the furnace room and came triumphantly around the corner of the furnace with Rocky and Crusher in tow, tugging Rocky and Muscles along by their ears. She was holding each boy painfully by an ear.
    “Well,” she began happily, “I’ve got these two brats...”
    Then her mouth fell open and she stopped dead at the sight of Tia and Tony and came face to face with the reunited Tia and Tony. At a sound overhead she gulped, and taking a quick glance up towards the lifting platform, looked upward, gasped at the sight of Dr. Gannon on the platform and produced a sickly grin. A sick imitation of a smile spread across her face. She gently released the ears of her two captives in her hands and patted Rocky and Crusher affectionately on the head. She gave them each an affectionate pat on the head.
    With the grin still glued in position, she said, “Well, why don’t we all go and have some ice cream,” she said in a falsely gay voice. “Yes, some ice cream and candy and soda and cake and... oh... oh... oh, oh...”
    That was as far as she got, for her voice trailed away as her feet left the ground, she was abruptly levitated head over heels to the platform, she glided up to join her partner on the platform and was deposited beside Dr. Gannon.
    The doctor glared at her, and said angrily, “Next time, I’ll—”
    “Forget it!” Letha snapped, as she clung fearfully to the wires. “I’ve lost my faith in science. Completely!”
    The two of them didn’t have to wait long for their partner. No one noticed Sickle at this moment. The Earthquakes were getting acquainted with Tony while Sickle, with the obstinacy of the muscle-bound, was creeping around the edge of the furnace on the lower catwalk. Suddenly he launched himself forward in one final, desperate leap, evidently with the intention of capturing both sister and brother and thus saving the day. But it was not to be. Both Tony and Tia sensed his coming, a second later Tia spotted Sickle cowering on the catwalk, sent him up to complete the haul and in the next second the incredulous Sickle was sent flying across the room to the platform, where he was deposited between Letha and the doctor. One glance over the side brought on an instant attack of acrophobia. He made a squealing sound like a dying goose, curled up in a ball, and clung like a leech to the platform.
    Letha, with a look of annoyance at Sickle, sniffed and said, “It’s absolutely dreadful the way they’re bringing up children these days.” She shook her head sadly.
    Tia energized the big steel door. It swung open and Mr. Clearcole, a half-dozen members of the security force, and little Mr. Yokomoto rushed into the furnace room.
    They stopped in front of the Earthquakes, looked wildly around, then caught sight of the three disheveled and unhappy occupants of the high platform.
    “There they are!” shouted the chief of staff, pointing a heavy finger at them. Then he yelled, “What are you doing up there?”
    Dr. Gannon shouted down, “Those are the two who did it! Those kids, Tia and Tony! They’re responsible for it all. They control molecular flow! They’re way ahead of us!”
    Mr. Clearcole looked at Tia, and then at Tony. He shook his head. “Those quack scientists love to make important-sounding statements. Control molecular flow!” He gave a short laugh. “Here we work with atoms and molecules every day and we all know how impossible it is. In fact, you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about.” Tony and Tia glanced at each other, and shrugged innocently.
    Mr. Yokomoto said, “I hope these truants haven’t caused any trouble.”
    “They merely saved everything,” said Mr. Clearcole, studying them curiously. “By the way, how did you do all these things you did?”
    Tia gave him a nice smile. “I guess the molecules were on our side.”
    “You guess the molecules were...” Mr. Clearcole laughed a bit nervously, “on your side...” He laughed again. “I see...” Then in a low voice to Mr. Yokomoto he said, “What’s she talking about?”
    The truant officer shrugged. “I’ve got a couple questions myself, I’m afraid to ask.”
    Back down on the floor, the Earthquakes gathered round and had surrounded Tony to shake his hand and welcome him back to reality, and they were shaking his hand.
    Rocky said, “You’re tough, man.”
    “You’re gonna take over this town,” Muscles told him.
    “We wanna join your gang,” said Crusher eagerly
    “But I don’t have a gang,” Tony replied.
    “You do now!” corrected Dazzler, and the Earthquakes nodded their agreement. Tia smiled. Tony was clearly a big hit with her friends. It was a pity they hadn’t been able to meet earlier. She had the feeling that... Her train of thought came to a sudden stop. It had completely slipped her mind!
    “Tony!” she said, grabbing her brother’s hand. “It’s Friday! We have to meet Uncle Bené. And we have to pick up a friend along the way.”
    Mr. Yokomoto said, “I’d like to have a few words with your uncle, to get you kids straightened out.”
    * * *
    On the way back in the minibus, they stopped at Letha Wedge’s mansion and picked up Alfred, who was obviously glad to see them. By the time they reached the distant Rose Bowl, the Earthquakes had decided Alfred should become a member of the gang, to which he agreed with a hearty baaa.
    The sun was dipping low behind the city rooftops as the minibus came rattling into the empty parking lot outside the stadium, braked to a juddering halt and chugged to a jerking, wheezy stop, choking off with a final bang that made it sound as if the poor vehicle had come to the end of its last mile.
    Everyone climbed noisily out and looked at it sadly. Mr. Yokomoto’s sadness was beyond words.
    As everyone piled out, Tia found time to have a quiet aside with her brother. Tia whispered to Tony, “It’s my fault the minibus is such a mess,” she explained. “The bus won’t run without me in it. They’ll be stranded here. And they’ll never get it to work without us in it.”
    Tony nodded. “Then we’d better fix it,” he agreed. “I’m sure it’ll be okay with Uncle Bené. I’ll do a motor job, and you do the body work.”
    With that, they both turned and concentrated on the minibus and their respective tasks, energizing it. Yoyo and the Earthquakes had seen them perform many amazing feats, but this one was rather special.
    A transformation began to take place. Slowly the crinkled metal began to uncrinkle and flatten out. Like a film being run in reverse, the minibus began to transform itself back into a new vehicle. Dents popped back into shape, torn metal areas welded themselves together. Scratches faded into the paintwork and marred enamel smoothed over and gleamed like new again. Motor parts were magically repaired and reassembled, and the engine overhauled itself. Presently the minibus was restored to its original condition. When it was finished, the minibus sparkled from radiator grill to exhaust pipe. When the motor was started, it ran as smoothly as if it had just come from the factory. The engine sang as sweetly as a bird.
    Mr. Yokomoto and the Earthquakes watched the restoration with wonder and amazement.
    Crusher whispered, “What a family!”
    Mr. Yokomoto trotted around and around the gleaming machine, inspecting it, elated and confused. Yoyo was stunned. “What’s going on here?” he said. “I don’t understand...!” he blustered.
    Tony shrugged. “Looks like the molecules must have rearranged themselves, somehow,” he said lightly.
    “That’s a possibility,” Mr. Yokomoto admitted.
    Tia and Tony shrugged and smiled at him. The deep lines at the side of Yoyo’s mouth creased upwards. He was smiling, although his face still looked as mournful as ever, and Mr. Yokomoto went on: “You know what this means?” he said. “They never saw the wreck. I’ll tell them the reports were exaggerated...” He looked appealingly at the Earthquakes. “And if you kids would come back to school, especially after we averted that disaster... I’m sure they wouldn’t and won’t fire me. You’ll come back... won’t you?”
    The Earthquakes lowered their heads, shuffled uneasily and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. They looked as if they had just found a dead fly in a plate of their favourite food. Finally, Muscles said hesitantly, “If we was to go back to school... could we get to be as smart as Tia and Tony?”
    “Maybe even smarter,” prompted Tia.
    There was a long awkward silence. Then Dazzler shrugged. “Well, you guys,” said Dazzler, scowling, “let’s give it a shot.”
    The others acted as if they were about to throw up, but reluctantly agreed and nodded. If Tia was behind the idea, then it might just be worth doing. They didn’t have to look happy about it, though.
    “Great!” bubbled Yoyo. “I only hope the school can take it.” Then Mr. Yokomoto jumped happily back into his shining new cab and climbed aboard to continue his inspection, eager to inspect happily.
    It was time for Tia and Tony to be on their way. Tony and Tia and the others ran toward the stadium, followed by Alfred. With the Earthquakes tagging along, they made off towards the stadium at a brisk run.
    When they reached the main big gates, Tony said, “Open it, Tia.”
    “No,” she said. “Everybody join hands.”
    Tony caught her look and grinned. Tia and Tony got everyone to line up and link hands.
    When they’d all joined hands, the Earthquakes squealing with fright and delight levitated the whole group over the gate up and across to the other side.
    Alfred, left on the other side, baaad unhappily.
    Tia, said, “Oh, Alfred, come on!”
    She levitated him over the fence, and was rewarded with a happy baaa and a telepathic, ~Thanks! That was great!~
    Running on through the concrete passageway they passed through the stadium and out on to the field.
    The Earthquakes had come to expect anything where Tia and Tony were concerned, but the sight of a shining silver spacecraft hovering a few feet over the fifty-yard line was more than enough to make them gasp with surprise.
    The Earthquakes stopped in sudden fright to squeals of another delight.
    “Wow!” Rocky gasped. “A flying saucer!”
    “Take it easy,” Tony said. “It’s ours.”
    An awed Crusher said, “These kids have everything!” said Crusher, stupified.
    Their craft was parked on the fifty-yard line, and as they reached the field they could see Uncle Bené standing in the glow under the cabin portal, waving.
    “Will – will we ever see you again?” Muscles managed to ask.
    “It’s hard to say. Maybe,” said Tony. “Who knows?”
    They shook hands and said their goodbyes, and Tia leant forward to kiss each of the Earthquakes in turn. “Thanks for everything,” Tia said, “and especially thanks for letting me be in the gang,” she said, “and don’t cry.”
    She gave each of them a good-bye kiss, which caused them to blush and squirm and almost want to cry. Dazzler actually had tears on his cheeks.
    Tia said, “Don’t cry. We might come back soon.”
    “Aw,” said Dazzler, “I’m only crying cause it’s just that I – I don’t wanna go back to school,” Dazzler managed to say. But he broke down and the others quickly pummeled him.
    “Take good care of Alfred,” Tia said finally. She gave him a good-bye kiss.
    Tia smiled then and then she and her brother Tony turned and walked off and ran across the field towards their waiting spacecraft. As they drew near it, the teleporter beam shot down to the ground, and Uncle Bené emerged to greet them.
    Uncle Bené put his arms around them in a fond bear hug, and asked, “Where are your suitcases?”
    “We lost them,” explained Tia. “There were a few problems.”
    Uncle Bené raised his eyebrows. “But did you have a good time?” Uncle Bené asked.
    “Terrible,” moaned Tony. “I knew we should have gone surfing.” Uncle Bené looked puzzled, but he supposed he would get to hear the full story on their journey back to Witch Mountain. Stepping into the beam, the three of them were lifted up into the body of their craft.
    They waved to the Earthquakes as they went aboard. Uncle Bené pressed the button that closed the cabin portal, and their craft rose easily with a soft humming sound. When it was well above the field, it shot away and quickly vanished in the fog.
    * * *
    At the edge of the field, the Earthquakes heard a high-pitched whine and watched sadly as the saucer rose up into the sky and disappeared over the rim of the stadium. The Earthquakes and Alfred stood wide-eyed and breathless, staring at the sky until nothing could be seen. At last turning, they started silently back the way they had come and raced back through the concrete passageway.
    As they neared the fence, they stopped and looked at the big gate again.
    Suddenly Crusher said, “Let’s do it the way Tia and Tony taught us!”
    They joined hands, ran at the gate, and jumped. All they managed to do was slam into the steel wire, bounce back, and crumple to the ground. “Baaa!” said Alfred, by way of laughter, and added for anyone to hear who could: ~I could have told you it wouldn’t work! You were born in the wrong world.~
    The Earthquakes clambered over the gates and ran towards the parking lot. In the parking lot, which they reached by the passageway, they rushed up to Mr. Yokomoto, who was still happily checking the minibus.
    The minibus was waiting for them with its engine ticking over. “Hey, Yoyo... er, I mean... Mr Yokomoto,” said Muscles, pausing in the doorway, “Tia and Tony just took off in a flying saucer!” Muscles cried.
    Mr. Yokomoto raised his eyebrows. “A flying saucer?”
    “Yeah!” Crusher exclaimed, and imitated the saucer in sound and movement, “Whoooosh...!”
    “Whoooosh...?” said Mr. Yokomoto, raising his eyebrows again. “How about whooshing yourselves into the bus?”
    “But it’s true!” Rocky cried.
    Mr. Yokomoto shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve seen those kids work miracles,” he said. “I believe a lot of things... I’d believe everything and anything – but except that! I don’t believe that! Get in!”
    Protesting, the Earthquakes shrugged, piled in and climbed into the minibus, followed by Alfred.
    Rocky said, “I hope that school teaches about flyin’ saucers.”
    Yoyo slipped into first gear and his beautiful new minibus purred softly away towards the edge of the parking lot. As the minibus pulled away, the Earthquakes stuck their heads out of the windows, looking upward. Suddenly they pointed and began waving excitedly.
    If Yoyo had bothered to look behind him, he might well have wondered why, a moment later, his passengers had their heads out of the rear windows and were waving frantically towards the sky. Then again, even if he had seen the silver blur streaking across the darkening horizon towards the distant range of mountains, he would never have believed it.
    High above them the spacecraft went through a break in the fog. Tony and Tia were at a window, looking downward. For a moment they sighted the minibus moving like a tiny toy far below. They waved, and Tia sent a telepathic thought to Alfred: ~Good luck, Alfred! We’re going to miss you.~
    She didn’t expect a reply, but one came anyway. ~Same here,~ said Alfred. ~I sure hope you come back soon!~

    1978

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