"Hello ... Oh ... Governor. You're right we want the guard. We want them as fast as we can get them."
Martin found a reporter he knew, plugged questions at him.
"They just go out of sight, that's all," the reporter told him. "How it happens, why it happens, nobody knows, least of all the police. When the first two reports came in, they thought it was a couple of snatches, but they've been scared out of that idea now. There's no rime or reason to it. Youngsters, nineteen, twenty years old; boys, girls, couples. Somebody hears them scream, but by the time anybody gets there, they're gone. God knows where they've gone or what has happened to them. Jack Lecroy, heir to the biggest fortune in this town, is gone. Two Polish factory workers, brothers, were in their room. Their old man went in to ask them something. They weren't there. College girls, shirt factory girls. It doesn't discriminate. Talk about the Pied Piper!—What's that?"
Outside the building a voice had begun to screech.
"It's the end of the world. The angel Gabriel is blowing his horn and the goats are being separated from the sheep. I'm ready, Lord, I'm ready. Come and take me—"
The reporter's face went a shade whiter. "That's another one gone off his nut. But he may be right, for all I know. Where you going?"
Scoop Martin was shoving his way toward the desk of the chief of police. In his mind a phrase had clicked.
"Chief, I'm Martin, of the Globe. Listen to me.... I know you don't want to answer any more questions, but I've got an idea. About a month ago I interviewed a scientist living here in Valley Park, Lee Garth. Did you read the story I wrote? He prophesied the end of the world. Then he got busy and built himself a castle that a regiment of artillery couldn't blast down.... Listen, maybe he knows more about this than he told."
The harassed officer stared at Martin, then grabbed his phone. Eventually he laid the receiver back on its hook.