Bryce felt Pierce's enthusiasm catch at him and start to sweep him away. He savored the pleased glow produced by the shattering changes he had managed to cram into one day. With six telephone calls he had broken the drug ring completely and forever, broken it so completely that no member of it would ever have dealings with any member of it again. All of them were out of business, fleeing with the imaginary hounds of the law baying at their heels.
He smiled at the thought.
And then his smile faded for some strange reason and he ceased listening to Pierce for a moment, looked away and ceased listening, for hearing Pierce just then distracted oddly from the clarity of his thinking. He wanted to review what he had just done.
What was wrong?
What?
He struggled with a mounting confusion, the desk top and telephones blurring as he tried to concentrate with desperate effort.
Unexpectedly the question sprang into focus. It was as if the room turned inside out, the day turned upside down.
He had smashed himself—not UT!
Why?
Why had he made those calls—changed his plans—and made those calls?