"Yes."

"You will leave the project immediately and—"

"Not so fast."

"I beg pardon?"

"I said, not so fast. I'm not satisfied with the arrangements."

The voice turned cold. "The arrangements are not yours to question. You—"

"Nevertheless, I question them. In fact, I demand some changes."

The man was obviously angry, but he held his temper. "What changes do you wish?"

"You said that after I deliver the prints on Centaur—"

"And iron out any problems our scientists might encounter in building the rocket—"

"Yes, after that, you will send my wife and I to Venus and safety."

"Correct."

"I demand that upon delivery of the prints, you send Clare on ahead."

"Why do you ask this?"

"Because the one thing I'm selling out my world for is her safety. I will gamble with it for only as short a time as necessary."

The man considered. What were the risks involved? Kendall might be sincere in his reason but if he were not, it would be easy enough to pick up Clare Kendall, unprotected as she would be in some Venusian hotel.

"Granted," he said. Better to give in than to argue. Centaurian scientists could spot a major hoax on Kendall's part instantly, and Kendall was under great pressure. Resist at this moment and he might defy them, even with his wife's life at stake.

"You will proceed at once to Yellowstone." He gave Kendall careful instructions concerning the rendezvous and cut the connection.

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