He caught their eyes and directed a quick command to the peepers: “Jo. Gus. Jet off. I want to say something to Reich. I don’t want you to hear. I won’t peep him or record his words. That’s a pledge.”

¼maine and Tate nodded, muttered to Reich and quietly departed. Reich watched them go with curious eyes and then looked at Powell. “Scare ’em off?” he inquired.

“Warned them off. Sit down, Reich.”

They sat on the edge of the basin, looking at each other in a friendly silence.

“No,” Powell said after a pause, “I’m not peeping you.”

“Didn’t think you were. But you did in Maria’s study, eh?”

“Felt that?”

“No. Guessed. It’s what I would have done.”

“Neither of us is very trustworthy, eh?”

“Pfutz!” Reich said emphatically. “We don’t play girl’s rules. We play for keeps, both of us. It’s the cowards and weaklings and sore-losers who hide behind rules and fair play.”

“What about honor and ethics?”

“We’ve got honor in us, but it’s our own code… not the make-believe rules some frightened little man wrote for the rest of the frightened little men. Every man’s got his own honor and ethics, and so long as he sticks to ’em, who’s anybody else to point the finger? You may not like his ethics, but you’ve no right to call him unethical.”

Powell shook his head sadly. “You’re two men, Reich. One of them’s fine; and the other’s rotten. If you were all killer, it wouldn’t be so bad. But there’s half louse and half saint in you, and that makes it worse.”

“I knew it was going to be bad when you winked,” Reich grinned. “You’re tricky, Powell. You really scare me. I never can tell when the punch is coming or which way to duck.”

“Then for God’s sake stop ducking and get it over with,” Powell said. His voice burned. His eyes burned. Once again he terrified Reich with his intensity. “I’m going to lick you on this one, Ben: I’m going to strangle the lousy killer in you, because I admire the saint. This is the beginning of the end, for you. You know it. Why don’t you make it easier for yourself?”

For an instant, Reich wavered on the verge of surrender. Then he mustered himself to meet the attack. “And give up the best fight of my life? No. Never in a million years, Linc. We’re going to slug this out straight down to the finish.”

Powell shrugged angrily. They both arose. Instinctively, their hands met in the four-way clasp of final farewell.

“I lost a great partner in you,” Reich said.

“You lost a great man in yourself, Ben.”

“Enemies?”

“Enemies.”

It was the beginning of Demolition.

7

THE POLICE PREFECT OF A city of seventeen and one half millions cannot be tied down to a desk. He does not have files, memoranda, notes, and reels of red tape. He has three Esper secretaries, memory wizards all, who carry within their minds the minutiae of his business. They accompany him around headquarters like a triple index. Surrounded by his flying squad (nicknamed Wynken, Blynken, and Nod by the staff) Powell jetted through Center Street, assembling the material for his fight.