"All the better for Towne. Then the 'rumored' liason between Psi-High
humans and invaders from space can be 'proved.' Towne is in the
driver's seat."
Faircloth nodded bitterly, and stood up, shaking the creases out of his
trousers. His face was grim. As he reached for his hat, his hand was
trembling. "That's just about the way I had it lined up, too," he said.
"Good-bye, Bob. Have a nice hunt."
"Sit down, Paul."
"Sorry. I'm not working on Ben Towne's payroll."
"I think you are," Roberts snapped. His eyes flashed, and he sat up
straight behind the desk. "You're going to work with us, and you're
going to follow through to the bitter end. You and Jean both."