The heavy pronged ironite wrench crashed into Nestor's cranial tubes,
drove through the blue-gray worn pate, sliced into the fragile
old-style gretile metal, battered and shredded the robot's upper works
into a twisted mass.
Again and again, in maniacal fury Lowndes slammed the ironite prongs
down. Nestor crashed to the floor in a final hiss and crackle.
Lowndes stared at the robot's smashed remains, stared at blue-gray
old-fashioned gretile metal scattered in a twisted heap of powdered
tubes, shredded relays and curling tensit wires. Off to one side the
ledgers lay where they had fallen. He reached out and picked up one
of them. He thumbed through the pages, ran his eyes over the lists of
holdings set down in Nestor's precise hand. What was this? The page
titled Central National showed withdrawals. Where was the balance? His
eye riveted on the final figure.... Zero! He threw the ledger down,
reached hurriedly for the other. Hah! here were further listings.
He flipped rapidly through page after page, intent on the balance.
Page after page--One-World Banking--Coxcomb Trust--Martian Financial
Institute--Venusian Investors--Cornusian Tex Fund--But--But what was
this? All showed withdrawals. All showed balance Zero!