"The Man With No Face does not fill you with fear because he's faceless. You know who he is. You hate him and fear him, but you know who he is."

"You're the peeper. You tell me. " "There's a limit to my ability, Mr. Reich. I can read your mind no

deeper without help." "What do you mean, help? You're the best E.M.D. I could hire. If..." "You're neither thinking nor meaning that, Mr. Reich. You deliberately

hired a 2nd Class Esper in order to protect yourself in such an emergency. Now you're paying the price of your caution. If you want the screaming to stop, you'll have to consult one of the 1st Class men... Say, Augustus Tate or Gart or Samuel @kins..."

"I'll think about it," Reich muttered and turned to go. As he opened the door, Breen called: "By the way... `We Transport You Into Transports' is the slogan of the D'Courtney Cartel. How does that tie in with the alteration of `bort' to `dort'? Think it over."

"The Man With No Face!"

Without staggering, Reich slammed the door across the path from his mind to Breen and then lurched down the corridor toward his own suite. A wave of savage hatred burst over him. "He's right. It's D'Courtney who's giving me the screams. Not because I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of myself. Known all along. Known it deep down inside. Known that once I faced it I'd have to kill that D'Courtney bastard. It's no face because it's the face of murder."

Fully dressed and in his wrong mind, Reich stormed out of his apartment and descended to the street where a Monarch Jumper picked him up and carried him in one graceful hop to the giant tower that housed the hundreds of floors and thousands of employees of Monarch's New York Office. Monarch Tower was the central nervous system of an incredibly vast corporation, a pyramid of transportation, communication, heavy industry, manufacture, sales distribution, research, exploration, importation.