Joe Schilling said quietly, "It was a six." He flipped over the card. Luckman had been right; it had been a bluff.

And the title deed to Greater New York City was his.

The cat on Luckman's desk yawned, now, hoping for breakfast; Luckman pushed it away and it hopped to the floor. "Parasite," Luckman said to it, but he felt fond of the cat; he believed devoutly that cats were lucky. He had had two toms with him in the condominium apartment that night when he had beaten Joe Schilling; perhaps they had done it, rather than a latent Psionic talent.

"I have Dave Mutreaux on the vid," his secretary said. "He's standing by. Do you want to speak to him personally?"

"If he's a genuine pre-cog," Luckman said, "he already knows what I want, so there's no need for me or anyone else to speak to the zwepp." The paradoxes of pre-cognition always amused and irked him. "Cut the circuit, Sid, and if he never shows up here it proves he's no good."

Sid, obediently, cut the circuit; the screen died. "But let me point out," Sid said, "you never spoke to him, so there never was anything for him to preview. Isn't that right?"

"He can preview the actual interview with me," Luckman answered. "Here in my office. When I give him his instructions."

"I guess that's right," Sid admitted.

"Berkeley," Luckman said musingly. "I haven't been there in eighty or ninety years." Like many Bindmen he did not like to enter an area which he did not own; it was a superstitution, perhaps, but he considered it decidedly bad luck. "I wonder if it's still foggy there. Well, I'll soon see."

From his desk drawer he brought forth the title deed which the broker had delivered to him. "Let's see who was Bindman last," he said, reading the deed. "Walter Remington; he's the one who won it last night and then right away sold it. And before him, a fellow named Peter Garden. I wouldn't be surprised if this Peter Garden is angry as hell, right now, or will be when he finds out. He probably figures on winning it back." And he'll never win it back now, Luckman said to himself. Not from me.