at some distance."

"And Gerson would be the only living thing there at ninety-eight point six."

"Exactly. Of course, the thing has a general direction and search pattern micro-taped in. That's the best they could do, because the boys have only a rough idea of where the cell would be."

"It sounds too easy to intercept," objected Parrish.

"That worries me a little," admitted Lydman. "It would be worse to fly something in, and it's impossible to send anyone in because they say they haven't got him. The gadget is set to have an affinity for dark corners, at least."

"And how does it get him out?" pursued Parrish.

"It carries a little pocket music player with micro-tapes that will actually play for a couple of hours. They can't tell for sure that Gerson didn't have it with him—if they spot it at all. When he opens the back as a little jingle in the first tune will instruct him to do, he has a miniature torch hot enough to cut the guts out of any lock between him and the outside."

"Someone will be watching for him, I suppose?" asked Smith.

"Sure. Once he's out of the place, the Yoleenites can hardly demand that we give back what they say they never had. Off to the embassy with him and onto the first ship! And I hope he kills a few of the bastards on the way out—they won't even have grounds for an official complaint!"

The other two avoided looking at him for a moment. Parrish stirred uneasily.

"I hope it—What I mean is, these Yoleenites give me an uneasy feeling the same as they do you, Bob. Experience tells me that some of these hive-like cultures think along peculiar lines. No wonder the Space Force finds them hard to understand! I recommend that we open a general file on them."

"It might be just as well," Smith agreed, considering. "They may give us more business in the future."

He pushed back his chair and rose.

"Let's take a break while I see if any new reports have come in. Then maybe we can work out something on the new mess."

 THREE

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