“Well—there’s your answer. Special ammunition against that particular tribe in case they attacked again. Udell probably intended to smear neo-curare on his ammunition.”

“Could be,” Quade said. He hesitated, thumbed a button and called Wolfe, his assistant, on the televisor. The youngster’s thin face and sharp blue eyes flashed into visibility on the screen.

“Hello, Tony. What’s up?”

“Got the camera-ship ready for the take-off?”

“Sure.”

“Well, here are some more supplies I want you to get. Photostat it.”

Quade pressed Udell’s list face down against the screen. After a moment Wolfe said, “Got it.”

Von Zorn seized the paper and began scanning it. Abruptly he emitted the anguished howl of a disemboweled wolf.

“Wait, Tony!” he cried desperately. “Not that! Venusian cochineal at a hundred dollars a pint, current quotation? Use surrogate red. It’s almost as good, and we don’t need—”

“I want everything—understand?” Quade said to the televisor. “Don’t leave out a thing.”

Stabbed in the budget, Von Zorn spun toward Kathleen Gregg.

“Next he’ll want diamond lenses and radium paint for technicolor effects, I suppose. Thirty-odd concentrated aqueous dyes—and they won’t even show on the celluloid!”

“The Zonals spend a lot of time underwater,” Quade said patiently. “And underwater camera work under alien conditions is tricky. You’ve got to experiment with the right dyes and special filters and lenses before you can get complete submarine clarity.”

“You’ve ordered enough concentrated dye to color the Pacific,” Von Zorn mourned. “Lake Erie at least. Why couldn’t Udell have found the right dye before he broke his contract?”

“Broke his contract?” Kathleen said wonderingly. “He didn’t—”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Von Zorn snarled and went off, as Quade rather suspected, to beat a child star—any child star who wasn’t big enough to be dangerous.

Quade got busy preparing for the expedition.

CHAPTER IIILocation Site

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