"Get her," Colin repeated. "Harkins has her on his mind. Maybe we can get to him through her."
Martha Harkins was a small brunette, too plain ever to be called pretty. Almost mousy, Colin thought. But intelligent, and quick to understand the situation, in spite of her nervousness. She sat on the opposite side of Banning's desk, her hands folded quietly in her lap, fingers twined, while Colin explained what they wanted her to do. Her still-sleepy eyes were fixed on her fingers while the psychiatrist talked.
"I—I think I see," she said hesitantly. "What it comes down to is that you want me to try to talk Dick out of Phoenix I."
Colin nodded. "It may not be easy. I've told you as much as we know about the condition of his mind. He will not consciously hear you, in all likelihood. We hope to appeal to deep-seated emotions below the conscious level. Are you willing to try?"
"Of course," she said with real surprise, looking up at him for the first time.
"Good," Colin said warmly. He stood from behind the desk. "We'll take you over to radio, now."
Banning was waiting for them in Central Control.
"Any change?" Colin asked.
"No. Same thing. Sometimes he comes closer to the mike. We can hear his footsteps. He seems to be wandering around the control room pretty aimlessly. Or maybe he's just carrying on the in-flight routine, we can't tell."