Martinez, security head for the entire Appalachia district, was a
small, slight man with unruly hair and deep, piercing eyes. He stared
levelly at Walton and said, "Sellors has been with security for twenty
years. It's absurd to suggest that he's disloyal."
"He's made a great many mistakes," Walton remarked. "I'm simply
suggesting that if he's not utterly incompetent he must be in someone
else's pay."
"And you want us to break a man on your say-so, Director Walton?"
Martinez shook his head fussily. "I'm afraid I can't see that. Of
course, if you're willing to go through the usual channels, you could
conceivably request a change of personnel in this district. But I don't
see how else--"
"Sellors will have to go," Walton said. "Our operation has sprung too
many leaks. We'll need a new man in here at once, and I want you to
double-check him personally."
Martinez rose. The little man's nostrils flickered ominously. "I
refuse. Security is external to whims and fancies. If I remove Sellors,
it will undermine security self-confidence all throughout the country."
"All right," sighed Walton. "Sellors stays. I'll file a request to have
him transferred, though."
"I'll pigeonhole it. I can vouch for Sellors' competence myself,"
Martinez snapped. "Popeek is in good hands, Mr. Walton. Please believe
that."
Martinez left. Walton glowered at the retreating figure. He knew
Martinez was honest--but the security head was a stubborn man, and
rather than admit the existence of a flaw in the security structure he
had erected, Martinez would let a weak man continue in a vital position.
Well, that blind spot in Martinez' makeup would have to be compensated
for, Walton thought. One way or another, he would have to get rid of
Sellors and replace him with a security man he could trust.
He scribbled a hasty note and sent it down the chute to Lee Percy. As
Walton anticipated, the public relations man phoned minutes later.
"Roy, what's this release you want me to get out? It's
fantastic--Sellors a spy? How? He hasn't even been arrested. I just saw
him in the building."
Walton smirked. "Since when do you have such a high respect for
accuracy?" he asked. "Send out the release and we'll watch what
happens."
The 1140 newsblares were the first to carry the news. Walton listened
cheerlessly as they revealed that Security Chief Sellors had been
arrested on charges of disloyalty. According to informed sources, said
the blares, Sellors was now in custody and had agreed to reveal the
nature of the secret conspiracy which had hired him.
At 1210 came a later report: Security Chief Sellors had temporarily
been released from custody.
And at 1230 came a still later report: Security Chief Sellors had been
assassinated by an unknown hand outside the Cullen Building.
Walton listened to the reports with cold detachment. He had foreseen
the move: Sellors' panicky employers had silenced the man for good.
_The ends justify the means_, Walton told himself. There was no reason
to feel pity for Sellors; he had been a spy and death was the penalty.
It made no real difference whether death came in a federal gas chamber
or as the result of some carefully faked news releases.
Martinez called almost immediately after word of Sellors' murder
reached the blares. The little man's face was deadly pale.
"I owe you an apology," he said. "I acted like an idiot this morning."
"Don't blame yourself," Walton said. "It was only natural that you'd
trust Sellors; you'd known him so long. But you can't trust anyone
these days, Martinez. Not even yourself."
"I will have to resign," the security man said.
"No. It wasn't your fault. Sellors was a spy and a bungler, and he paid
the price. His own men struck him down when that rumor escaped that he
was going to inform. Just send me a new man, as I asked--and make him a
good one!"
Keeler, the new security attaché, was a crisp-looking man in his early
thirties. He reported directly to Walton as soon as he reached the
building.
"You're Sellors' replacement, eh? Glad to see you, Keeler." Walton
studied him. He looked tough and hard and thoroughly incorruptible.
"I've a couple of jobs I'd like you to start on right away. First, you
know Sellors was looking for a man named Lamarre. Let me fill you in on
that, and--"
"No need for that," Keeler said. "I was the man Sellors put on the
Lamarre chase. There isn't a trace of him anywhere. We've got feelers
out all over the planet now, and no luck."
"Hmm." Walton was mildly annoyed; he had been wishfully hoping Sellors
had found Lamarre and had simply covered up the fact. But if Keeler had
been the one who handled the search, there was no hope of that.
"All right," Walton said. "Keep on the hunt for Lamarre. At the moment
I want you to give this building a thorough scouring. There's no
telling how many spy pickups Sellors planted here. Top to bottom, and
report back to me when the job is done."
Next on Walton's schedule was a call from communications. He received
it and a technician told him, "There's been a call from the Venus ship.
Do you want it, sir?"
"Of course!"
"It says, 'Arrived Venus June fifteen late, no sign of Lang outfit yet.
Well keep looking and will report daily.' It's signed, 'Spencer.'"
"Okay," Walton said. "Thanks. And if any further word from them comes,
let me have it right away."
The fate of the Lang expedition, Walton reflected, was not of immediate
importance. But he would like to know what had happened to the group.
He hoped Spencer and his rescue mission had something more concrete to
report tomorrow.
The annunciator chimed. "Dr. Frederic Walton is on the line, sir. He
says it's urgent."
"Okay," Walton said. He switched over and waited for his brother's face
to appear on the screen. A nervous current of anticipation throbbed in
him.
"Well, Fred?" he asked at length.
"You've been a busy little bee, haven't you?" Fred said. "I understand
you have a new security chief to watch over you."
"I don't have time to make conversation now," Walton snapped.
"Nor do I. You fooled us badly, with that newsbreak on Sellors. You
forced us into wiping out a useful contact prematurely."
"Not so useful," Walton said. "I was on to him. If you hadn't killed
him, I would have had to handle the job myself. You saved me the
trouble."
"My, my! Getting ruthless, aren't we!"
"When the occasion demands," Walton said.
"Fair enough. We'll play the same way." Fred's eyes narrowed. "You
recall our conversation in the Bronze Room the other day, Roy?"
"Vividly."
"I've called to ask for your decision," Fred said. "One way or the
other."