To Commissioner Crabbe he laid out the broad outlines once more. “We need motive, method, and opportunity, Commissioner. We’ve got possible opportunity so far, but that’s all. You know Old Man Mose. He’s going to insist on hard fact evidence.”

“Old Man who?” Crabbe looked startled.

“Old Man Mose,” Powell grinned. “That’s our nickname for the Mosiac Multiplex Prosecution Computer. You wouldn’t want us to use his full name, would you? We’d strangle.”

“That confounded adding machine!” Crabbe snorted.

“Yes, sir. Now, I’m ready to go all out on Ben Reich and Monarch to get that evidence for Old Man Mose. I want to ask you a straight question. Are you willing to go all out too?”

Crabbe, who resented and hated all Espers, turned purple and shot up from the ebony chair behind the ebony desk in his ebony-and-silver office. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Powell?”

“Don’t sound for undercurrents, sir. I’m merely asking if you’re tied to Reich and Monarch in any way. Will you be embarrassed when the heat’s on? Will it be possible for Reich to come to you and get our rockets cooled?”

“No, it will not, damn you.”

“Sir:” Wynken shot at Powell. “On December 4th last, Commissioner Crabbe discussed the Monolith Case with you. Extract follows:

POWELL:

There’s a tricky financial angle to this business, Commissioner. Monarch may hold us up with a Demurrer.

CRABBE:

Reich’s given me his word he won’t; and I can always depend on Ben Reich. He backed me for County Attorney.

End quote.“

“Right, Wynk. I thought there was something in Crabbe’s file.”

Powell switched his tactics and glared at Crabbe. “What the devil are you trying to hand me? What about your campaign for County D.A.? Reich backed you for that, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“And I’m supposed to believe he hasn’t continued supporting you?”

“Damn you, Powell — Yes, you are. He backed me then. He has not supported me since.”

“Then I have the beacon on the Reich murder?”

“Why do you insist that Ben Reich killed that man? It’s ridiculous. You’ve got no proof. Your own admission.”

Powell continued to glare at Crabbe.

“He didn’t kill him. Ben Reich wouldn’t kill anybody. He’s a fine man who—”

“Do I have your beacon on this murder?”

“All right, Powell. You do.”

“But with strong reservations. Make a note, boys. He’s scared to death of Reich. Make another note. So am I.”

To his staff, Powell said: “Now look — You all know what a cold-blooded monster Old Man Mose is. Always screaming for facts — facts — evidence — unassailable proof. We’ll have to produce evidence to convince that damned machine he ought to prosecute. To do that we’re going to pull the Rough & Smooth on Reich. You know the method. We’ll assign a clumsy operative and a slick one to every subject. The cluck won’t know the smoothie is on the job. Neither will the subject. After he’s shaken the Rough Tail he’ll imagine he’s clear. That makes it a cinch for the slicker. And that’s what we’re going to do to Reich.”