soldier. I have no moral or psychological taboos against killing dictators, or anybody else. Suppose I cooperate with you; what's in it for me?" There was a long silence. Walter and Carl looked at one another inquiringly; the others dithered helplessly. It was Carl who answered. "Your return to your own time and place." "And if I don't cooperate with you?" "Guess when and where else we could send you," Walter said. Benson dropped his cigarette and tramped it. "Exactly the same time and place?" he asked. "Well, the structure of space-time demands...." Paula began. "The spatio-temporal displacement field is capable of identifying that spot—" Gregory pointed to a ten-foot circle in front of a bank of sleek-cabineted, dial-studded machines "—with any set of space-time coordinates in the universe. However, to avoid disruption of the structure of space-time, we must return you to approximately the same point in space-time." Benson nodded again, this time at the confirmation of his earlier suspicion. Well, while he was alive, he still had a chance. "All right; tell me exactly what you want me to do." A third outbreak of bedlam, this time of relief and frantic explanation. "Shut up, all of you!" For so thin a man, Carl had an astonishing voice. "I worked this out, so let me tell it." He turned to Benson. "Maybe I'm tougher than the rest of them, or maybe I'm not as deeply conditioned. For one thing, I'm tone-deaf. Well, here's the way it is. Gregory can set the machine to function automatically. You stand where he shows you, press the button he shows you, and fifteen seconds later it'll take you forward in time five seconds and about a kilometer in space, to The Guide's office. He'll be at his desk now. You'll have forty-five seconds to do the job, from the time the field collapses around you till it rebuilds. Then you'll be taken back to your own time again. The whole thing's automatic." "Can do," Benson agreed. "How do I kill him?" "I'm getting sick!" Paula murmured weakly. Her face was whiter than her gown. "Take