_You're licked, you know. Already you're licked. Even if my call to Newell was nothing but a telenosis dream--even if no one knows anything about this but me, you're still licked--_
No reply. None of any kind. I'd expected at least to get a sinister chuckle, or a flood of horrors. But there was nothing more nor less than what there had been--the policeman driving through quiet city streets, and the dogs barking.
Then it was just a recording, prepared in advance. My mind was not being followed in person. Not right now.
But that was no help and no assurance. I still didn't dare get out of the car. Or knock the driver over the head and take over the car myself. At ninety miles an hour, and with a visual impression of moving slowly along city streets, that would be a sure form of suicide.
Apparently I had no choice but to wait until we arrived at our destination and then do what I could--which might not be much.
Lord, if I could make another vp call before we got there!
Careful, though. Even with no operator at the telenizer, I had to watch out for thought leakage. My thoughts were surely being recorded, and certain kinds of thoughts might trigger automatic precautionary measures.
I gave the defense mech a hard bang with my hand. It clicked twice. I got a brief glimpse of the highway flashing past and the lights of other vehicles.
Then the clicking stopped, and we were back in town, crawling along. I hit the defense mech again, a series of lighter blows, and it obediently clicked and this time continued clicking; and we were on the highway again.
Making an effort to control my breathing and to muffle the sound of my rapidly pounding heart, I leaned forward and examined the controls of the auto intently.
There was a phone. Not a visiphone, of course, but a phone nonetheless. A means of communication. There was also a luminous radar dial that might or might not mean automatic controls.
Which might or might not be in operation.
I concentrated on the hands and feet of the driver. Neither moved perceptibly. The course of the vehicle was straight and constant, though, so that didn't prove anything.
"Hey, where in hell is this police station?" I asked.
With a slight backward-turning motion of his head, the driver replied, "Almost there. Just a few minutes now."