“Nanny!” Bobby screamed, helplessly jumping up and down.

But there was no response from the frenzied, twisting mass of crashing orange and green.

“What are you going to do?” Mary Fields asked, tight-lipped and pale.

“You stay here.” Tom grabbed up his coat and threw it on; he yanked his hat down from the closet shelf and strode toward the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Is the cruiser out front?” Tom pulled open the front door and made his way out onto the porch. The two children, miserable and trembling, watched him fearfully.

“Yes,” Mary murmured, “it’s out front. But where—”

Tom turned abruptly to the children. “You’re sure she’s—dead?”

Bobby nodded. His face was streaked with grimy tears. “Pieces … all over the lawn.”

Tom nodded grimly. “I’ll be right back. And don’t worry at all. You three stay here.”

He strode down the front steps, down the walk, to the parked cruiser. A moment later they heard him drive furiously away.

He had to go to several agencies before he found what he wanted. Service Industries had nothing he could use; he was through with them. It was at Allied Domestic that he saw exactly what he was looking for, displayed in their luxurious, well-lighted window. They were just closing, but the clerk let him inside when he saw the expression on his face.

“I’ll take it,” Tom said, reaching into his coat for his checkbook.

“Which one, sir?” the clerk faltered.

“The big one. The big black one in the window. With the four arms and the ram in front.”

The clerk beamed, his face aglow with pleasure. “Yes sir!” he cried, whipping out his order pad. “The Imperator Delux, with power-beam focus. Did you want the optional high-velocity grapple-lock and the remote-control feedback? At moderate cost, we can equip her with a visual report screen; you can follow the situation from the comfort of your own living room.”