"Okay," Frank said, coming to a swift decision. He noted Grace's number, then went toward the Ultrablack beyond the door. At the threshhold, he turned. "I may not get the chance to phone," he said. "If things go wrong, I mean. Give me half an hour. If I haven't called by then—" He avoided looking at Stanton's perspiring face. "Go ahead."
Bob reached out and took the Snapper. "Good luck," he said. Frank nodded wordlessly, and stepped out into the blackness. In another minute, Bob heard the rumble of the prop-Goon's motors, and then the whir of its wheels on the pavement outside. When it died in the distance, he looked down at his prisoner.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "really sorry. It was the only thing to do, while he was here. I knew he wouldn't go through with it. Killing you, I mean." He stooped and helped him up.
"What if he'd agreed!?" Stanton complained, taking his weapon and pocketing it.
Bob looked up, surprised. "I'd have had to kill him, of course. Without your permission, I didn't dare let on in front of him. I thought you'd want me in a position of trust, still. Frank won't alert any other members of the movement against me, this way."
Stanton grunted noncommittally at the statement, and got to his feet. Then he stepped to the phone and dialled Madge Benedict's number. The receiver shrilled in his ear, over and over, as the phone in her office rang. He waited for six rings, then hung up, his face thoughtful.
"Madge is never supposed to leave the phone without my permission during an emergency. Something's happened. They may be up there already.... They must be up there already!"
"What can we do?" Bob blurted, frightened. "Once they gain control of the Speaksters—"
"That takes time," Stanton said. "They'll have to lift Ultrablack, flash an emergency call to the Temples on the Proposition Screens, and wait until the Kinsmen have arrived to make their announcements. But there's a way to stop them. The Goons. And they're controlled by the Brain—Or by whomever is at the controls of the Brain!" he added with a smile that sent gooseflesh along Lennick's back.
"But how can we get there in Ultrablack?" Bob asked. "If we wait for them to turn it on, we won't have much time before the Kinsmen get to the Temples...." He stopped when he saw what Stanton was doing. The President, from an inner pocket of his coat, had taken a sort of transparent grey oval of some plastic material, and was fitting it before his eyes by means of an elastic strap. When it was in place, he could just barely see the President's balefully glaring eyes. "I didn't know such a thing existed," he said, knowing what the eyeshield was for, suddenly.