"What do they want here? Whispered one policeman to another, inside the station, when the men had passed through the room towards the chief's office.
"Shh!" answered his friend. "I think it's something to do with that kid that got knocked down."
"What? The one run over by the bus. Yeah, I thought the chief was pretty quiet about that. What could be wrong, I wonder. I mean we've never had the yellowmen here before - let alone four of them together."
In the privacy of his office, the police chief had extended the palm of his hand, on which was resting a small flat black thing - a dot.
"Good work, chief. You were right to call us. It looks like something important. Where'd you find it?"
The chief lifted a black sheet and revealed the mangled corpse of a young boy - a few days dead.
"All I know about him is that his name is probably Leonard. At least that's what was written on the top of his singlet. I've been keeping this quiet as much as possible, so we haven't advertised. Haven't heard anything at all from his family yet.
"You probably won't. Where was it?"
"It was in his left ear."
"Well, that makes sense - the top left-hand corner. Put it in this box."
The police chief gently placed the black dot in the little glass box.
"We'll rush it down to Project F and check it with them. It must be the one for their triangle," said one yellowman to the others.
"How are they going over there?" asked the chief. "I was there a few years ago as a supervisor."
"Not bad. We'll double the number of workers as soon as we get back to the building. Now we have the dot we've got to have that triangle as soon as possible."
"Yes, I can understand that. Now, you can be sure I won��t tell a soul about this incident. I suppose you want to take the body with you?"
"Of course we do. No, you won't tell anyone about it. I'm afraid we'll be making sure of that. Clap him, Josh!"
One of the men clapped a large rubber suffocator over the chief's face and released the gas. The chief collapsed dead on the floor and the men from the grey building put him into their crushing machine, which consumed him completely.
"We can't take any chances," one of them said.
"Clear the way!" another one called.
So when they passed through the station no one was in sight. They quickly loaded the body into the waiting vehicle and put the box with the dot in a safe compartment. No people could be seen in the street or anywhere else, except for an old man in his front garden, watering some flowers, staring at the men with evil eyes, then turning away in disgust. Little did the men in yellow know that he was a bus-driver.