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generally with individuals. My specialty is mass movement. But Barbara can find Joe Blow for you now and any time you want to check on his whereabouts …”
    “They have him,” Barbara said, and held out her hand for another card.
    The Commissioner stared at her suspiciously.
    “Oh, let’s let his men tell him, Babs.”
    She shrugged and settled back in her chair. Then brightened and smiled sweetly at Mailer. “You left your pipe in your ski jacket, Commissioner, the blue one which you don’t usually wear. If you call home right now, you’ll find your wife there. And remind her the coat is under your red dressing robe in the first closet.”
    Mailer regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I thought you said you weren’t a mind reader.”
    “I never said that,” Barbara replied, then pointed to Henry. “He did. And I can only get impressions of lost articles. You did lose the pipe and were just now thinking where had you put it. And the only reason I know about your wife is because you say you can never find her whenyou need her.” Barbara kept her face very straight but Henry knew her to be possessed of a sense of devilment, very much in evidence under that air of innocent helpfulness.
    This “finding” was making far more impression on the Commissioner than her location of Joe Blow.
    The comunit buzzed.
    “They picked up a man, answering that description. What do they do with him? He’s demanding rights.”
    Mailer was unprepared for only one moment. “Search him. There’s been a local robbery and a man answering his description was seen nearby. You’re supposed to find a wad of credits and papers. Invoke citizen search prerogative.”
    “He’s carrying roughly 8000 credits, sir,” said Barbara.
    “The heist was 8000.”
    There was a second long tense silence.
    “He’s got it, sir.”
    “Book him!”
    The fleeting expressions on Mailer’s face now told of intense mental conflict. He was a man to whom a miracle had been offered and he was too scared to accept it.
    “Barbara is parapsychic, Commissioner. We brought Goosegg in to prove to you on a scientific basis as reliable as ballistics, without a tea leaf in sight, that her mind generates a specific type of electrical impulse when she uses her parapsychic Talent. She can’t read your mind except when you, or anyone, are worrying about something lost, strayed or stolen …”
    “Stolen—” The Commissioner pounced on the word.
    “If you mean that hijacked shipment of crowd gas, Commissioner,” said Barbara, “it’s in a warehouse, with a southside feel. It’s very dark inside, which hampers me: I can’t see in shadows. I can make out some white airfreight containers, they’ve a plastic feel, rather than wood or steel. There’s a geometric design in dark paint in the lower left hand side.” She frowned and the Goosegg chatteredrapidly for a moment and then toned down to a mild, normal swing. “I’m sorry. There simply isn’t enough light there.”
    The Commissioner snorted but her information had obviously given him something to work on. “South side … air freight … white …” His fist slapped down an end key. “Jack … what air freight companies use white containers with geometric designs in lower left hand … Oh, they do. Now, what air freight companies use southside depots … Oh. Hmmm. Well, check your contacts like right now.” He turned a cold dispassionate look on Barbara. “You can’t be more specific?”
    Barbara gave Henry a quick glance before answering. “I’ve already narrowed the search to a small section of the city with as many specifics as I can see. There can’t be
that
many warehouses for air freight! I’ve done more than you’ve been able to, Mr. Mailer.”
    “Now, just a minute, young lady …”
    “You’ve had more than a minute, Commissioner, and my time is valuable.” Barbara was on her feet, the electrode net in her hand. “We’re wasting time with this one, Henry. And I don’t