Scott reached the Blobcave without incident.
    "Good evening," Larry greeted him.
    "Hello."
    "League of Nations?"
    "Here you go." He handed the note to Felix. "You know, I hate being made out of gold, it just stinks."
    "Taunting conversation, it was actually listed on here," the Sphinx noted. "Very thorough. Land in area, investigate, taunting conversation with heroes... apparently after that point—he's already checked those off, things were added after that in a different color pen—they're supposed to split up into teams. Ley Lady is apparently looking for Miss Hoagland, Rue Morgue and someone called Blitzkrieg were supposed to make an attack there... the whole thing's a flow chart more than anything else. Typical German efficiency... oh, no. We have a problem," he added.
    "Oh?"
    "Who do you have out in the field that you can move right now?"
    "Needle."
    "Get her to Harvard. The Greek student there, the daughter of the nobility. Jack Ketch is going to be killing her in five minutes."
    He made the call.
    Then he called Albert.
    "Oui?"
    "Albert, how close to Harvard are you?"
    "Not very at all, I am attempting to find Ms. Hoagland."
    "Ley Lady is looking for her as well, just so you know."
    "Do we have a file on her?"
    "Yes, somewhere... Irish telekinetic, pseudo-telekinetic, lines of force."
    "Not her powers, her psychological profile," he replied a bit impatiently. "If I know how she searches, I will know how to follow her search."
    "We do have her Interpol file around here somewhere. Shoot, I was hoping you were anywhere near Harvard, Jack Ketch is going to be there soon." He left Albert to his search. "So what else is on his list, Felix? And where's Stephanie?"
    "She went out. To do something. Sounded suitably mysterious. I trust her to stay out of trouble, and most of the above-ground fighting has stopped for the day."
    "Well, large sections of the city are no longer being spontaneously assaulted by storm troopers...."
    "Wait a minute...." He checked the timetable. "Spontaneous storm trooper assault. This was if you refused to just go along. They do have a storm trooper assault listed as a possibility."
    "Do they really."
    "Yes."
    "Do they happen to have a list of where they have the storm troopers stored?"
    "Probably at the weapons facility that they have. Would you like to go deal with that now?"
    "Oh, why not." He wasn't doing anything else right now. "Is there anything else on there that should probably be taken care of first?"
    "The list of things that they apparently want to accomplish—they are not after the Egyptian technology," he added. "They're after Silverblood, they want to kill Hoagland, or they want to kill whoever killed Mort, they didn't have her written down originally."
    "But it seems to be Hoagland, or something scooped her out and wearing a Hoagland suit."
    "They want to kill the Greek girl, and they need to rewrite the memories of everyone who has realized that they were responsible for the money drain."
    "Oh. That would pretty much be the city of Boston after a couple of comments made to the press. At least large parts of the press corps should know, or at least have a good idea."
    "Yes. That's what Mind Lazer's doing with the day." Pause. "The other thing that's on there, is after they've erased the memories and rewritten them for everything about that...."
    "That would be the part about me being a write-off?"
    "Yes. You have to be destroyed."
    "Oh. I suppose I'll go take care of the storm troopers. Mind Lazer doesn't bother me." Midas, on the other hand, he was going to have to remember to hit with a car.
    He made it to the weapons facility, which had been cunningly disguised as a youth hostel, without incident. Natural enough concealment for a few dozen fresh-faced Germanic youth. Nice security system, but inadequate to the task of keeping him out. The back of the building was very similar to the one they'd had in Cambridge, although it seemed geared more toward storage than production. Twenty people were arming themselves with weapons that appeared to be a blend of conventional energy rifles and Plovian technology; interesting in that Scott had never heard of anyone doing work like that.
    He dialed Reilly's number. Alarms went off all around him as the transmission was detected.
    "What—someone's here—seal the building!" someone barked. Blast doors slammed into place.
    "Gentlemen, you've locked the doors in the wrong direction, I'm sorry to point out...." Scott informed them, coalescing from the ceiling. He'd been worrying about how he'd deal with all of them if they ran, but that didn't seem to be a problem any more.

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