But no warning tingle prickled his skin. Then the lights came on as Ileth passed inside. They glowed from the walls like cold flame.
With a sigh of relief, Saxon saw that the chamber was empty.
"Sit down," said Ileth, "I'll get you a drink." She disappeared through a doorway across the room, stripping her yellow green jacket from her shoulders as she went.
Jon Saxon sank onto a lounge, following Ileth's progress by her thoughts.
"Soda. Where's that soda? Oh, here it is. Emil must have put it there. Like a man." Then, "Contact Emil?"
A moment's indecision. Saxon could almost hear the girl thinking. "Not yet," she decided with a mental shiver. "Saxon would be no good to us dead." Then, "Make the drink strong. Take a gallon to make him drunk. Big brute. Shoulders like a door. I could...."
Saxon hastily blocked out her thought in embarrassment. The girl's mind was too graphic.
For the hundredth time his brain grappled with the identity of those alien telepaths who had warned him in the street tonight.
The radiation branch of Government's Bureau of Research had been experimenting with thought projection. Could they have been successful? It might account for the alien feel he had experienced for that impenetrable barrier which had defeated his attempt to reach their minds.
A machine?