"Lou," I said unhappily, "I've never said that we couldn't establish a
common frame of reference. What we lack is one that can be established
in minutes. Something physical--" I stopped short as a shadowy thought
began to form.
* * * * *
Paul Wallach looked at me as though he'd like to speak but didn't want
to interrupt my train of thoughts. When he could contain himself no
longer, he said, "Out with it, Tom."
"Maybe," I muttered. "Surely there must be something physical."
"How so?"
"The tunnel car must be full of it," I said. "Screws?"
I turned to Saul Graben. Saul is our mechanical genius; give him a
sketch made on used Kleenex with a blunt lipstick and he will bring you
back a gleaming mechanism that runs like a hundred-dollar wrist watch.
But not this time. Saul shook his head.
"What's permanent is welded and what's temporary is snapped in with
plug buttons," he said.
"Good Lord," I said. "There simply _must_ be something!"
"There probably is," said Saul. "But this Harla chap would have to use
an acetylene torch to get at it."