Sprinkling powders while chanting, Raul Horta formed a huge, meter wide, rune on a smooth section of the floor. I busied myself feeding the appropriate code phrases into my watch to relay a priority signal to the big radio in our van and on to the headquarters of our organization. Wherever that was. We had once found what I thought was Bureau HQ, but by the next week the office building had been converted into a parking garage. I guess the chief didn't trust anybody, even us, and not without cause. On rare occasions, Bureau 13 agents did sometimes go bad. In less than a minute I got an answering bleep on my wristwatch, just as the mystic letter of power began to glow and a shimmering oval portal formed in the air. Lumpy snarled and spit, but we paid the prisoner no attention. He was going nowhere inside that deudonic forcefield

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