“No dope,” he told me.
Greg was standing nearby. “I told you this was something big,” he said.
“It’s big, all right,” I told him. “And it’s pretty illegal, too.
Thanks, but I don’t want to spend the next ten years in jail. I have a
job, and a trade. I want to keep them.”
“There’s nothing illegal about it,” the tall thin guy said. “By the
way, my name is Dunstan. Call me Willy.”
“I’m Arthur Holly,” I said, “and I’m leaving. Call me a taxi.”
“Don’t be that way,” Greg put in. “Listen to the man.”
“The secret is in the binoculars,” Dunstan said. “They are really a
setup for beamed power transmission. It’s built into the barrels of the
binoculars.”