Dieter Mainz returned before the major did, lugging an old leather valise that, Kalvin presumed, held the secrets of Donnersprache. Kalvin tried not to stare at it, smiling instead at his companion, who kept jerking his head away from the street to scan the shadows. I think you need not fear for your life,'' Kalvin said, noticing the old man's nervous glances. How important can Donnersprache be, in a time when a radio transmitter can be hidden in the heel of a shoe?

Can that transmitter hypnotize ten million listeners?

Kalvin shrugged. I suppose it depends on what is Mid, he hedged, watching a bulky shadow stroll into the street two hundred meters away. He tensed as the distant stranger began to walk in their direction. This old guy is getting to me, he admitted to himself. No, it does not matter what is said when the machine makes one's words seem absolutely true. What matters is the listener's capacity, and desire, to believe in something. Mainz said it dogmatically, as if lecturing on fundamentals.