page. Nothing of interest there, just more routine business. But item ninety-two, timed at 1102, was an intriguing one: 92: Full transcript of morning's transactions issued at request of Dr. Frederic Walton, 932K104AZ. Fred hadn't been bluffing, then; he actually had possession of all the damning evidence. But when one dealt with a computer and with Donnerson micro-memory-tubes, the past was an extremely fluid entity. "I want a direct line to the computer on floor twenty," he said. After a brief lag a technician appeared on the screen. It was the same one he had spoken to earlier. "There's been an error in the records," Walton said. "An error I wouldn't want to perpetuate. Will you set me up so I can feed a direct order into the machine?" "Certainly, sir. Go ahead, sir." "This is top secret. Vanish." The technician vanished. Walton said, "Items seventy-three through seventy-seven on yesterday morning's record tape are to be deleted, and the information carried in those tubes is to be deleted as well. Furthermore, there is to be no record made of this transaction." The voicewrite on floor twenty clattered briefly, and the order funneled into the computer. Walton waited a moment, tensely. Then he said, "All right, technician. Come back in where I can see you." The technician appeared. Walton said, "I'm running a check now. Have the machine prepare another transcript of yesterday's activities between 0900 and 1200, and also one of today's doings for the last fifteen minutes." "Right away, sir." While he waited for the new transcripts to arrive, Walton studied the list of names on his desk. Five doctors—Gunther, Raymond, Archer, Hsi, Rein. He didn't know which one of them had examined the Prior baby, nor did he care to find out. All five would have to be transferred. Meticulously, he took up his stylus and pad again, and plotted a destination for each: CONTENTS Gunther ... Zurich. Raymond ... Glasgow. Archer ... Tierra del Fuego. Hsi ... Leopoldville. Rein ... Bangkok. He nodded. That was optimum
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