"I'll do that soon."
"Good. Maybe I can sell you that used Curtiss at the same time."
The pilot alarm sounded; the driver put down his magazine and settled the craft on the roof of Baldwin's establishment.
Baldwin was as good as his word. He took Gilead to his office, sent for clothes which showed up with great speed and handed Gilead a wad of bills suitable to stuff a pillow. "You can mail it back," he said.
"I'll bring it back in person," promised Gilead.
"Good. Be careful out on the street. Some of our friends are sure to be around."
"I'll be careful." He left, as casually as if he had called there on business, but feeling less sure of himself than usual. Baldwin himself remained a mystery and, in his business, Gilead could not afford mysteries.
There was a public phone booth in the lobby of Baldwin's building. Gilead went in, scrambled, then coded a different relay station from the one he had attempted to use before. He gave his booth's code and instructed the operator to scramble back. In a matter of minutes he was talking to his chief in New Washington.
"Joe! Where the hell have you been?"
"Later, boss get this." In departmental oral code as an added precaution, he told his chief that the films were in post office box 1060, Chicago, and insisted that they be picked up by a major force at once.
His chief turned away from the view plate, then returned, "Okay, it's doneNow what happened to you?"
"Later, boss, later. I think I've got some friends outside who are anxious to rassle with me. Keep me here and I may get a hole in my head."
"Okay but head right back here. I want a fall report; I'll wait here for you."
"Right." He switched off.
He left the booth light-heartedly, with the feeling of satisfaction that comes from a hard job successfully finished. He rather hoped that some of his "friends' would show up; he felt like kicking somebody who needed kicking.
But they disappointed him. He boarded the transcontinental rocket without alarms and slept all the way to New Washington.
He reached the Federal Bureau of Security by one of many concealed routes and went to his boss's office. After scan and voice check he was let in. Bonn looked up and scowled.
Gilead ignored the expression; Bonn usually scowled.
38 Robert A. HeirUein
"Agent Joseph Briggs, three-four-oh-nine-seven-two, reporting back from assignment, sir," he said evenly.
Bonn switched a desk control to "recording" and another to "covert," "You are, eh? Why, thumbfingered idiot! How do you dare to show your face around here?"
"Easy now, boss what's the trouble?"
Bonn famed incoherently for a time, then said, "Briggs, twelve star men covered that pickup and the box was empty. Post office box ten-sixty, Chicago, indeed! Where are those films? Was it a coverup? Have you got them with you?"
Gilead-Briggs restrained his surprise. "No. I mailed them at the Grand Concourse post office to the address you just named." He added, "The machine may have kicked them out; I was forced to letter by hand the machine symbols."
Bonn looked suddenly hopeful. He touched another control and said, "Carruthersi On that Briggs matter: Check the rejection stations for that routing." He thought and then added, "Then try a rejection sequence on the assumption that the first symbol was acceptable to the machine but mistaken. Also for each of the other symbols; run diem simultaneously crash priority for all agents and staff. After that try combinations of symbols taken two at a time, then three at a time, and so on." He switched off.
'The total of that series you just set up is every postal address in the continent," Briggs suggested mildly. "It can't be done."
"It s got to be done! Man, have you any idea of the importance of those films you were guarding?"
"Yes. The director at Moon Base told me what I was carrying."
"You don t act as if you did. You've lost the most valuable thing this or any other government can possess the absolute weapon. Yet you stand there blinking at me as if you had mislaid a pack of cigarettes."
"Weapon?" objected Briggs. "I wouldn't call the nova effect that, unless you class suicide as a weapon. And I don't concede that I've lost it. As an agent acting alone and charged primarily with keeping it out of die hands of others, I used the best means available in an emergency to protect it. That is well within the limits of my authority. I was spotted, by some means "
"You shouldn't have been spotted!"
"Granted. But I was. I was unsupported and my estimate of the situation did not include a probability of staying alive. Therefore I had to protect my charge by some means which did not depend on my staying alive."
"But you did stay alive you're here."
"Not my doing nor yours, I assure you. I should have been covered. It was your order, you will remember, that I act alone."
Bonn looked sullen. "That was necessary."
"So? In any case, I don't see what all the shooting is about. Either the films show up, or they are lost and will be destroyed as unclaimed mail. So I go back to the Moon and get another set of prints."
Bonn chewed his lip. "You can't do that."
"Why not?"
Bonn hesitated a long time. "There were just two sets. You had the originals, which were to be placed in a vault in the Archives and the others were to be destroyed at once when the originals were known to be secure."
"Yes? What's the hitch?"
"You don't see the importance of the procedure. Every working paper, every file, every record was destroyed when these films were made. Every technician, every assistant, received hypno. The intention was not only to protect the results of the research but to wipe out the very fact that the research had taken place. There aren't a dozen people in the
system who even know of the existence of the nova effect."
Briggs had his own opinions on this point, based on recent experience, but he kept still about them. Bonn went on, "The Secretary has been after me steadily to let him know when the originals were secured. He has been quite insistent, quite critical. When you called in, I told him that the films were safe and that he would have them in a few minutes."
"Well?"
"Don't you see. you fool he gave the order at once to destroy the other copies."
Briggs whistled. "Jumped the gun, didn't he?"
"That's not the way he'll figure it mind you, the President was pressuring him. He'll say that Z jumped the gun."
"And so you did."
"No. you jumped the gun. You told me the films were in that box."
"Hardly. I said I had sent them there."
"No, you didn't."
"Get out the tape and play it back."
"There is no tape by the President's own order no records are kept on this operation."
"So? Then why are you recording now?"
"Because," Bonn answered sharply, "some one is going to pay for this and it is not going to be me."
"Meaning," Briggs said slowly, "that it is going to be me."
"I didn't say that. It might be the Secretary."
"If his head rolls, so will yours. No, both of you are figuring on using me. Before you plan on that, hadn't you better hear my report? It might affect your plans. I've got news for you, boss."
Bonn drummed the desk. "Go ahead. It had better be good."
In a passionless monotone Briggs recited all events as recorded by sharp memory from receipt of the films on the Moon to the present moment. Bonn listened impatiently.
Finished, Briggs waited. Bonn got up and strode around the room. Finally he stopped and said. "Briggs, I never heard such a fantastic pack of lies in my life. A fat man who plays cards! A wallet that wasn't your wallet your clothes stolen! And Mrs. Keithley Mrs. Keithley! Don't you know that she is one of the strongest supporters of the Administration?"