he looked earnestly at Rath. "Not a chance of it, my dear sir. Just between us, why does General Motors really want to know?" 

 Rath smiled bitterly. He should have anticipated this. NYRT and GM had had their differences in the past. Officially, there was cooperation between the two giant corporations. But for all practical purposes-- 

 "The question is in terms of the Public Interest," Rath said. 

 "Oh, certainly," Mr. Bemis replied, with a subtle smile. Glancing at his tattle board, he noticed that several company executives had tapped in on his line. This might mean a promotion, if handled properly. 

 "The Public Interest of GM," Mr. Bemis added with polite nastiness. "The insinuation is, I suppose, that drunken conductors are operating our jetbuses and helis?" 

 "Of course not. I was searching for a single alcoholic predilection, an individual latency--" 

 "There's no possibility of it. We at Rapid Transit do not hire people with even the merest tendency in that direction. And may I suggest, sir, that you clean your own house before making implications about others?" 

 And with that, Mr. Bemis broke the connection. 

 No one was going to put anything over on him. 

 "Dead end," Rath said heavily. He turned and shouted, "Smith! Did you find any prints?" 

 Lieutenant Smith, his coat off and sleeves rolled up, bounded over. "Nothing usable, sir." 

 Rath's thin lips tightened. It had been close to seven hours since the customer had taken the Martian machine. There was no telling what harm had been done by now. The customer would be justified in bringing suit against the Company. Not that the money mattered much; it was the bad publicity that was to be avoided at all costs. 

 "Beg pardon, sir," Haskins said. 

 Rath ignored him. What next? Rapid Transit was not going to cooperate. Would the Armed Services make their records available for scansion by somatotype and pigmentation? 

 "Sir," Haskins said again. 

 "What is it?" 

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