Part 12 (1/2)

”Incompatibility, say?”

”O.K.”

”Miss Briggs-'Incompatibility with the highest echelon of Stoner and Black, Inc.,' please. You may as well wait, Dr. Kinnison; it will take only a moment.”

”Fine. I've got a couple of things to say. First, I know as well as you do that you're between Scylla and Charybdis-d.a.m.ned if you do and d.a.m.ned if you don't.”

”Certainly not! Ridiculous!” Black bl.u.s.tered, but his eyes wavered. ”Where did you get such a preposterous idea? What do you mean?”

”If you ram those sub-standard H.E.A.T. sh.e.l.l through, you are going to have some more prematures. Not many-the stuff is actually almost good enough-one in ten thousand, say: perhaps one in fifty thousand. But you know d.a.m.ned well that you can't afford any. What my Siberians and Inspectors know about you and Keller and Piddy and the Nine Line would be enough; but to cap the climax that brainless jackal of yours let the cat completely out of the bag this afternoon, and everybody in Building One was listening. One more premature would blow Entwhistle wide open-would start something that not all the politicians in Was.h.i.+ngton could stop. On the other hand, if you sc.r.a.p those lots and go back to pouring good loads, your Mr. Stoner, of New York and Was.h.i.+ngton, will be very unhappy and will scream b.l.o.o.d.y murder. I'm sure, however, that you won't offer any Plate D loads to Ordnance-in view of the temper of my boys and girls, and the number of people who heard your dumb stooge give you away, you won't dare to. In fact, I told some of my people that you wouldn't; that you are a smart enough operator to keep your nose clean.”

”You told them!” Black shouted, in anger and dismay.

”Yes? Why not?” The words were innocent enough, but Kinnison's expression was full of meaning. ”I don't want to seem trite, but you are just beginning to find out that honesty and loyalty are a h.e.l.l of a hard team to beat.”

”Get out! Take these termination papers and GET OUT!”

And Doctor Ralph K. Kinnison, head high, strode out of President Black's office and out of Entwhistle Ordnance Plant.

CHAPTER 6

19-?

”Theodore K. Kinnison!” a crisp, clear voice snapped from the speaker of an apparently cold, ordinary-enough-looking radio-television set.

A burly young man caught his breath sharply as he leaped to the instrument and pressed an inconspicuous b.u.t.ton.

”Theodore K. Kinnison acknowledging!” The plate remained dark, but he knew that he was being scanned.

”Operation Bullfinch!” the speaker blatted.

Kinnison gulped. ”Operation Bullfinch-Off!” he managed to say.

”Off!”

He pushed the b.u.t.ton again and turned to face the tall, trim honey-blonde who stood tensely poised in the archway. Her eyes were wide and protesting; both hands clutched at her throat.

”Uh-huh, sweets, they're coming-over the Pole,” he gritted. ”Two hours, more or less.”

”Oh, Ted!” She threw herself into his arms. They kissed, then broke away.

The man picked up two large suitcases, already packed-everything else, including food and water, had been in the car for weeks-and made strides. The girl rushed after him, not bothering even to close the door of the apartment, scooping up en pa.s.sant a leggy boy of four and a chubby, curly-haired girl of two or thereabouts. They ran across the lawn toward a big, low-slung sedan.

”Sure you got your caffeine tablets?” he demanded as they ran.

”Uh-huh.”

”You'll need 'em. Drive like the devil-stay ahead! You can-this heap has got the legs of a centipede and you've got plenty of gas and oil. Eleven hundred miles from anywhere and a population of one-tenth per square mile-you'll be safe there if anybody is.”

”It isn't us I'm worried about-it's you!” she panted. ”Technos' wives get a few minutes' notice ahead of the H-blast-I'll be ahead of the rush and I'll stay ahead. It's you, Ted-you!”