Calling an elevator from the upper floors, Duke Harald reviewed his knowledge of the building. Master Elwyn had his office on the topmost floor, well removed from the daytime hum and bustle of the lower levels. The suite comprised, he knew, an inner office, a small washroom and refresher, and an anteroom where during daylight hours a secretary-Cerberus held the portals. At night—particularly this initiation night—that guardian should be gone.
The entrance to the anteroom—the main entrance to the chambers—was almost directly across from the elevator shaft. There was a second door, rarely used, which gave direct access to the inner office. That was some twenty feet along the corridor, just before the passage turned to lead to an emergency staircase.
Up in the elevator, then, to the floor below the one which wash is goal. As the metal doors of the cage sighed shut behind him, Duke Harald was already racing cat-footed down the corridor, around the turn, and up the winding stairs to his first “check point.” A quick glance showed him the corridor stretching bare and empty to the far wall of the building.
And now came the first really ticklish spot. Taking a case of tiny, glittering energy tools from his belt pouch, Duke Harald went ghostlike down the corridor; and began to trace the power leads to Master Elwyn’s door. And as he worked, swiftly and precisely, he smiled in silent amusement. His door had been shorted out; he would now repay the compliment!
His circuit tracer flashed. Stopping the slow movement of his hand, holding it rock-still—a millimeter’s error could defeat him—he read the tiny dial and marked his point of entry. Exchanging the tracer for a power drill, he sank a microscopic shaft to the indicated depth, and down it drove a silver grounding pin. Then—a quick re-check with his tracer, and this phase of the operation was complete.
And none too soon! Indeed, a faint humming from the elevator shaft warned him that his time was running out. And still another door to doctor!
Sweating with nervous haste, Duke Harald paused before the door of the inner office and forced his hands to repeat the cautious tracing of the hidden wires. Just as a soft pinging announced the arrival of the cage, he found the junction he was looking for, marked it with a hasty blob of color—fortunately, precision was not so necessary here—and, battle cloak streaming from his shoulders, almost dove around the corner to the concealment of the stairhead.
Half crouching, hands on weapons, he waited then for any possible alarm. There was none. Only the sigh of the closing elevator and, a moment later, the distant muffled chiming of a bell. Silently, Duke Harald flattened himself to the floor and extended a tiny pocket mirror around the corner. The angle of sight was strange, and the view narrow. But it sufficed. He could see the length of the corridor, could recognize Melton standing before the door of the anteroom, could just discern the faint blue flash of the scanning light.
Cautiously Duke Harald stood erect. In his hands were two new instruments. From around the corner he could now hear voices.
“Well! Melton,” came Master Elwyn’s tones, “come in, come in!”