DAMNED IF YOU DON'T

 By RANDALL GARRETT

 Illustrated by van Dongen

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction May 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. ]

 _You can and you can't; You will and you won't. You'll be damn'd if you do; You'll be damn'd if you don't. _

 --LORENZO DOW; "Definition of Calvinism"

_We've all heard of the wonderful invention that the Big Corporation orthe Utilities suppressed. . . ? Usually, that Wonderful Invention won'twork, actually. But there's another possibility, too. . . . _

The workshop-laboratory was a mess. 

Sam Bending looked it over silently; his jaw muscles were hard andtense, and his eyes were the same. 

To repeat what Sam Bending thought when he saw the junk that had beenmade of thousands of dollars worth of equipment would not beinadmissible in a family magazine, because Bending was not particularlyaddicted to four-letter vulgarities. But he _was_ a religious man--in alax sort of way--so repeating what ran through his mind that gray Mondayin February of 1981 would be unfair to the memory of Samson FrancisBending. 

Sam Bending folded his hands over his chest. It was not an attitude ofprayer; it was an attempt to keep those big, gorillalike hands fromsmashing something. The fingers intertwined, and the hands tried tocrush each other, which was a good way to keep them from actuallycrushing anything else. 

He stood there at the door for a full minute--just looking. 

The lab--as has been said--was a mess. It would have looked better ifsomeone had simply tossed a grenade in it and had done with it. At leastthe results would have been random and more evenly dispersed. 

But whoever had gone about the wrecking of the lab had gone about it ina workmanlike way. Whoever had done the job was no amateur. The vandalhad known his way about in a laboratory, that was obvious. Leads hadbeen cut carefully; equipment had been shoved aside without care as towhat happened to it, but with great care that the shover should not bedamaged by the shoving; the invader had known exactly what he was after, and exactly how to get to it. 

And he--whoever he was--had gotten his hands on what he wanted. 

The Converter was gone. 

 * * * * *

Sam Bending took his time in regaining his temper. He had to. A man whostands six feet three, weighs three hundred pounds, and wears aforty-eight size jacket can't afford to lose his temper very often orhe'll end up on the wrong end of a homicide charge. That three hundredpounds was composed of too much muscle and too little fat for SamBending to allow it to run amok. 

At last, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his tensenerves, muscles, and tendons sag--he pretended someone had struck himwith a dose of curare. He let his breath out slowly and opened his eyesagain. 

The lab still looked the same, but it no longer irritated him. It wassomething to be accepted as done. It was something to investigate, and--if possible--avenge. But it was no longer something to worry aboutor lose his temper over. 

_I should have expected it_, he thought wryly. _They'd have to dosomething about it, wouldn't they?_

But the funny thing was that he _hadn't_ expected it--not in modern, law-abiding America. 

He reached over to the wall switch to turn on the lights, but before hishand touched it, he stopped the motion and grinned to himself. No pointin turning on the switch when he knew perfectly well that there was nopower behind it. Still--

His fingers touched the switch anyway. And nothing happened. 

He shrugged and went over to the phone. 

He let his eyes wander over the wreckage as his right index finger spunthe dial. Actually, the room wasn't as much of a shambles as it hadlooked on first sight. The--burglar?--hadn't tried to get at anythingbut the Converter. He hadn't known exactly where it was, but he'd beenable to follow the leads to its hiding place. That meant that he knewhis beans about power lines, anyway. 

It also meant that he hadn't been an ordinary burglar. There were plentyof other things around for a burglar to make money out of. Unless heknew what it was, he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of stealing theConverter. 

On the other hand, if he had--

"Police Department, " said a laconic voice from the speaker. At the sametime, the blue-clad image of a police officer appeared on the screen. Helooked polite, but he also looked as though he expected nothing morethan a routine call. 

Bending gave the cop's sleeve a quick glance and said: "Sergeant, myname is Samson Bending. Bending Consultants, 3991 Marden--you'll find itin the phone book. Someone broke into my place over the weekend, andI'd appreciate it if you'd send someone around. "

The sergeant's face showed that he still thought it was routine. "Anything missing, sir?"

"I'm not sure, " said Bending carefully. "I'll have to make a check. Ihaven't touched anything. I thought I'd leave that for the detectives. But you can see for yourself what's happened. "

He stepped back from the screen and the Leinster cameras automaticallyadjusted for the greater distance to the background. 

"Looks like you had a visitor, all right, " said the police officer. "What is that? A lab of some kind you've got there?"

"That's right, " Bending said. "You can check it with the Register. "

"Will do, Mr. Bending, " agreed the sergeant. "We'll send the TechnicalSquad around in any case. " He paused, and Sam could see that he'dpressed an alarm button. There was more interest in his manner, too. "Any signs that it might be kids?" he asked. 

Sam shrugged. "Hard to tell. Might be. Might not. " He knew good and wellthat it wasn't a JD gang that had invaded his lab. He grinnedingratiatingly. "I figure you guys can tell me more about that than Icould tell you. "

The sergeant nodded. "Sure. O. K. , Mr. Bending; you just hold on. Don'ttouch anything; we'll have a copter out there as soon as we can. O. K. ?"

"O. K. , " Sam agreed. He cut off as the cop's image began to collapse. 

 * * * * *

Sam Bending didn't obey the cop's order to touch nothing. He couldn'tafford to--not at this stage of the game. He looked over everything--thesmashed oscilloscopes, the overturned computer, the ripped-outmeters--everything. He lifted a couple of instruments that had beentoppled to the floor, raising them carefully with a big screwdriver, used as a lever. When he was through, he was convinced that he knewexactly who the culprit was. 

Oh, he didn't know the name of the man, or men, who had actuallycommitted the crime. Those things were, for the moment, relativelyunimportant. The police might find them, but that could wait. The thingthat _was_ important was that Bending was certain within his own mindwho had paid to have the lab robbed. 

Not that he could make any accusations to the police, of course. Thatwouldn't do at all. But _he_ knew. He was quite certain. 

He left the lab itself and went into the outer rooms, the three roomsthat constituted the clients' waiting room, his own office, and thesmaller office of Nita Walder, the girl who took care of his files andcorrespondence. 

A quick look told him that nothing in the offices had been disturbed. Heshrugged his huge shoulders and sat down on the long couch in thewaiting room. 

_Much good it may do them_, he thought pleasantly. _The Converter won'tbe worth the stuff it's made of if they try to open it. _

He looked at the clock on the wall and frowned. It was off by fivehours. Then he grinned and looked at his wrist watch. Of course the wallclock was Off. It had stopped when the power had been cut off. When theburglars had cut the leads to the Converter, everything in the lab hadstopped. 

It was eight seventeen. Sam Bending lit a cigarette and leaned back towait for the cops. United States Power Utilities, Monopolated, hadoverstepped themselves this time. 

 * * * * *

_Bending Consultants_, as a title for a business, was a littlemisleading because of the plural ending of the last word. There was onlyone consultant, and that was Samson Francis Bending. His speciality wasthe engineering design of atomic power plants--both the old fashionedheavy-metal kind and the newer, more elegant, stellarators, whichproduced power by hydrogen-to-helium conversion. 

Bending made good money at it. He wasn't a millionaire by any means, buthe had enough money to live comfortably on and enough extra toexperiment around on his own. And, primarily, it had always been theexperimentation that had been the purpose of Bending Consultants; theconsulting end of the business had always been a monetary prop for thelab itself. His employees--mostly junior engineers and engineeringdraftsmen--worked in the two-story building next door to the lab. Theirjob was to make money for the company under Bending's direction whileBending himself spent as much time as he could fussing around withthings that interested him. 

The word "genius" has several connotations, depending on how one definesa genius. Leaving aside the Greek, Roman and Arabic definitions, acareful observer will find that there are two general classes of genius:the "partial" genius, and the "general" genius. Actually, such a narrowdefinition doesn't do either kind justice, but defining a human being isan almost impossible job, anyway, so we'll have to do the best we canwith the tools we have to work with. 

The "partial" genius follows the classic definition. "A genius is a manwith a one-track mind; an idiot has one track less. " He's a real wowserat one class of knowledge, and doesn't know spit about the others. 

The "general" genius doesn't specialize. He's capable of originalthought in any field he works in. 

The trouble is that, because of the greater concentration involved, thepartial genius usually gets more recognition than the general--that is, if he gets any recognition at all. Thus, the mathematical and opticalwork of Sir Isaac Newton show true genius; his theological and politicalideas weren't worth the paper he wrote them on. Similar accusationsmight be leveled against Albert Einstein--and many others. 

The general genius isn't so well known because he spreads his abilitiesover a broad area. Some--like Leonardo da Vinci--have made a name forthemselves, but, in general, they have remained in the background. 

Someone once defined a specialist as "a man who learns more and moreabout less and less until he finally knows everything about nothing. "And there is the converse, the general practitioner, who knows "less andless about more and more until he finally knows nothing abouteverything. "

Both types can produce geniuses, and there is, of course, a broadspectrum in between. Da Vinci, for instance, became famous for hispaintings; he concentrated on that field because he knew perfectly wellthat his designs for such things as airplanes were impracticable at thetime, whereas the Church would pay for art. 

Samson Bending was a genius, granted; but he was more toward the"special" than the "general" side of the spectrum. His grasp of nuclearphysics was far and away beyond that of any other scientist of his day;his ability to handle political and economic relationships was ratherfeeble. 

As he sat in his waiting room on that chill day of February, 1981, hismind was centered on nuclear physics, not general economics. Not thatBending was oblivious to the power of the Great God Ammon; Bending wasvery fond of money and appreciated the things it could achieve. Hesimply didn't appreciate the over-all power of Ammon. At the moment, hewas brooding darkly over the very fact of existence of Power Utilities, and trying to figure out a suitable rejoinder to their _coup de démon_. 

And then he heard the whir of helicopter blades over the building. Thepolice had come. 

He opened the door of the lab building as they came up the steps. Therewere two plainclothes men--the Technical Squad, Bending knew--and fouruniformed officers. 

 * * * * *

The plainclothesman in the lead, a tall, rather thin man, with darkstraight hair and a small mustache, said: "Mr. Bending? I'm SergeantKetzel. Mind if the boys take a look at the scene? And I'd like to ask afew questions?"

"Fine, " said Sam Bending. "Come on in. "

He showed the officers to the lab, and telling them nothing, left themto their work. Then he went into his office, followed by SergeantKetzel. The detective took down all the pertinent data that Bendingchose to give him, and then asked Bending to go with him to the lab. 

The other plainclothesman came up to Sergeant Ketzel and Bending as theyentered. "Pretty easy to see what happened, " he said. "Come on over andtake a look. " He led them over to the wall where the Converter had beenhidden. 

"See, " he said, "here's your main power line coming in here. It's beenburned off. They shut off the power to cut off the burglar alarm tothat safe over there. "

Ketzel shook his head slowly, but said nothing for the moment. He lookedat Bending. "Has the safe been robbed?"

"I don't know, " Bending admitted. "I didn't touch it after I saw allthis wreckage. "

Ketzel told a couple of the uniformed men to go over the safe forevidence. While they waited, Bending looked again at the hole in thewall where the Converter had been. And it suddenly struck him that, evenif he had reported the loss of the Converter to the police, it would behard to prove. The thief had taken care to burn off the ends of the oldleads that had originally come into the building. Bending himself hadcut them a week before to install the Converter. Had they been left asthey were, Bending could have proved by the oxidation of the surfacethat they had been cut a long time before the leads on this side of theConverter. But both had been carefully fused by a torch. 

"Nothing on the safe, " said one of the officers. "No prints, at anyrate. Micros might show glove or cloth traces, but--" He shrugged. 

"Would you mind opening the safe, Mr. Bending?" Sergeant Ketzel asked. 

"Certainly, " Bending said. He wondered if the safe _had_ been robbed. Inthe certainty that it was only the Converter that the burglars had beenafter, he hadn't even thought about the safe. 

Bending touched the handle, turned it a trifle, and the door swung openeasily in his hand. "It wasn't even locked, " Bending said, almost tohimself. 

He looked inside. The safe had been thoroughly gone through, but as faras Bending could see, there were no papers missing. 

"Don't touch anything in there, Mr. Bending, " said Ketzel, "Just tell usas much as you can by looking at it. "

"The papers have been disturbed, " Bending said carefully, "but I don'tthink anything is missing, except the petty cash box. "

"Uh-huh, " Ketzel grunted significantly. "Petty cash box. About how muchwas in it, Mr. Bending?"

"Three or four thousand, I imagine: you'll have to ask Jim Luckman, mybusiness manager. He keeps track of things like that. "

"Three or four _thousand_ in petty cash?" Ketzel asked, as though he'dprefer Bending to correct the figure to "two or three hundred. "

"About that. Sometimes we have to order equipment of one kind or anotherin a hurry, and we can usually expedite matters if we can promise cash. You know how it is. "

Sergeant Ketzel nodded sourly. He evidently knew only too well how itwas. Even the most respectable businessmen were doing occasionalbusiness with the black market in technological devices. But he didn'tsay anything to Bending. 

"What did the cash box look like?" he asked. 

Bending held out his hands to measure off a distance. "About solong--ten inches, I guess; maybe six inches wide and four deep. Thinsheet steel, with a gray crackle finish. There was a lock on it, but itwasn't much of one; since it was kept in the safe, there was no need fora strong lock. "

Sergeant Ketzel nodded. "In other words, an ordinary office cash box. Nodistinguishing marks at all?"

"It had 'Bending Consultants' on the top. And underneath that, the word'Lab'. In black paint. That 'Lab' was to distinguish it from the pettycash box in the main office. "

"I see. Do you know anything about the denominations of the bills? Werethey marked in any way?"

Bending frowned. "I don't know. You'd have to ask Luckman about that, too. "

"Where is he now?"

"Home, I imagine. He isn't due to report for work until ten. "

"O. K. Will you leave word that we want to talk to him when he comes in?It'll take us a while to get all the information we can from the lab, here. " He looked back at the hole in the wall. "It still doesn't makesense. Why should they go to all that trouble just to shut off a burglaralarm?" He shook his head and went over to where the others wereworking. 

It was hours before the police left, and long before they were gone SamBending had begun to wish fervently that he had never called them. Hefelt that he should have kept his mouth shut and fought Power Utilitieson the ground they had chosen. They had known about the Converter onlytwo weeks, and they had already struck. He tried to remember exactly howthe Utilities representative had worded what he'd said, and couldn't. 

Well, there was an easy way to find out. He went over to his files andtook out the recording for Friday, 30 January 1981. He threaded itthrough the sound player--he had no particular desire to look at theman's face again--and turned on the machine. The first sentence broughtthe whole scene back to mind. 

 * * * * *

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Bending, " the man whose card had announcedhim as Richard Olcott. He was a rather average-sized man, with afiftyish face, graying hair that was beginning to thin, and anexpression like that of a friendly poker player--pleasant, butinscrutable. 

"I always have time to see a representative of Power Utilities, Mr. Olcott, " Bending said. "Though I must admit that I'm more used todealing with various engineers who work for your subsidiaries. "

"Not subsidiaries, please, " Olcott admonished in a friendly tone. "Likethe Bell Telephone Company, Power Utilities is actually a group ofindependent but mutually co-operative companies organized under a parentcompany. "

Bending grinned. "I stand corrected. What did you have on your mind, Mr. Olcott?"

Olcott's hesitation was of half-second duration, but it was perceptible. 

"Mr. Bending, " he began, "I understand that you have been . . . Ah . . . Working on a new and . . . Ah . . . Radically different method of powergeneration. Er . . . Is that substantially correct?"

Bending looked at the man, his blocky, big-jawed face expressionless. "I've been doing experimenting with power generators, yes, " he saidafter a moment. "That's my business. "

"Oh, quite, quite. I understand that, " Olcott said hurriedly. "I . . . Ah . . . Took the trouble to look up your record before I came. I'm well aware of the invaluable work you've done in the power field. "

"Thank you, " Bending said agreeably. He waited to see what the otherwould say next. It was his move. 

"However, " Olcott said, "that's not the sort of thing I was referringto. " He leaned forward in his chair, and his bright gray eyes seemed totake on a new life; his manner seemed to alter subtly. 

"Let me put my . . . _our_ cards on the table, Mr. Bending. We understandthat you have designed, and are experimenting with, an amazingly compactpower source. We understand that little remains but to get the bugs outof your pilot model. 

"Naturally, we are interested. Our business is supplying the nation withpower. Anything from a new type solar battery on up is of interest tous. " He stopped, waiting for Bending to speak. 

Bending obliged. "I see Petternek let the cat out of the bagprematurely, " he said with a smile. "I hadn't intended to spring ituntil it was a polished work of engineering art. It's been more of ahobby than anything else, you see. "

Olcott smiled disarmingly. "I'm not acquainted with Mr. Petternek; to bequite honest, I have no idea where our engineers picked up theinformation. "

"He's an engineer, " Bending said. "Friends of mine. He probably got alittle enthusiastic in a conversation with one of your boys. He seemedquite impressed by my Converter. "

"Possibly that is the explanation. " Olcott paused. "Converter, you say?That's what you call it?"

"That's right. I couldn't think up any fancier name for it. Oh, Isuppose I could have, but I didn't want anything too descriptive. "

"And the word 'converter' isn't descriptive?"

"Hardly, " said Bending with a short laugh. "Every power supply is aconverter of some kind. A nickel-cadmium battery converts chemicalenergy into electrical energy. A solar battery converts radiation intoelectrical current. The old-fashioned, oil- or coal-burning power plantsconverted chemical energy into heat energy, converted that into kineticenergy, and that, in turn was converted into electrical energy. Theheavy-metal atomic plant does almost the same thing, except that it usesnuclear reactions instead of chemical reactions to produce the heat. Thestellarator is a converter, too. 

"About the only exception I can think of is the electrostatic condenser, and you could say that it converts static electricity into a currentflow if you wanted to stretch a point. On the other hand, a condenserisn't usually considered as a power supply. "

Olcott chuckled. "I see your point. Could you give me a rough idea ofthe principle on which your Converter operates?"

Bending allowed himself a thoughtful frown. "I'd rather not, just now, Mr. Olcott. As I said, I want to sort of spring this full-blown on theworld. " He grinned. He looked like a small boy who had just discoveredthat people liked him; but it was a calculated expression, not anautomatic one. 

Olcott looked into Bending's eyes without seeing them. He ran his tonguecarefully over the inside of his teeth before he spoke. "Mr. Bending. "Pause. "Mr. Bending, we--and by 'we', I mean, of course, PowerUtilities, --have heard a great deal about this . . . This Converter. " Hischocolate-brown eyes bored deep into the gray eyes of Samson Bending. "Frankly, " he continued, "we are inclined to discount ninety per cent ofthe rumors that come to us. Most of them are based on purely crackpotideas. None the less, we investigate them. If someone _does_ discover anew process of producing power, we can't afford to be blind to new ideasjust because they happen to come from . . . Ah . . . Unorthodox sources. 

"You, Mr. Bending, are an unusual case. Any rumor concerning your work, no matter how fantastic, is worth looking into on your reputation alone, even though the claims may be utterly absurd. "

"I have made no claims, " Bending interposed. 

Olcott raised a lean hand. "I understand that, Mr. Bending. None theless, others--who may or may not know what they are talking about--havemade this claim _for_ you. " Olcott settled back in his chair and foldedhis hands across his slight paunch. "You've worked with us before, Mr. Bending; you know that we can--and _do_--pay well for advances in thepower field which are contributed by our engineers. As you know, ourcontract is the standard one--any discovery made by an engineer while inour employ is automatically ours. None the less, we give such men ahandsome royalty. " He paused, opened his brief case, and pulled out anotebook. After referring to it, he looked up at Bending and said:

"You, yourself have benefitted by this policy. According to our records, you are drawing royalties from three patented improvements in thestellarator which were discovered at times when you were employed byus--or, rather, by one of our associative corporations--in an advisorycapacity. Those discoveries were, by contract, ours. By law, we coulduse them as we saw fit without recompense to you, other than our regularfee. None the less, we chose to pay you a royalty because that is ournormal policy with all our engineers and scientific research men. Wefind it more expedient to operate thus. "

Bending was getting a little tired of Olcott's "none the less, " but hedidn't show it. "Are you trying to say that my Converter was inventedduring my employ with your company, Mr. Olcott?"

Olcott cleared his throat and shook his head. "No. Not necessarily. Itis true that we might have a case on those grounds, but, under thecircumstances, we feel it inexpedient to pursue such a course. "

_Which means_, Bending thought, _that you don't have a case at all_. "Then just what are you driving at, Mr. Olcott?" he asked aloud. 

"I'll put my cards on the table, Mr. Bending, " Olcott said. 

_You've already said that_, Bending thought, _and I've seen no evidenceof it_. "Go ahead, " he said. 

"Thank you. " He cleared his throat again. "If your inventionis . . . Ah . . . Worth while, we are prepared to negotiate with you foruse and/or purchase of it. "

Bending had always disliked people who said or wrote "and/or, " but hehad no desire to antagonize the Power Utilities representative byshowing personal pique. "Let me understand you clearly, " he said. "PowerUtilities wants to buy my rights to the Converter. Right?"

Olcott cleared his throat a third time. "In a word, yes. Provided, ofcourse, that it is actually worth our while. Remember, we know almostnothing about it; the claims made for it by our . . . Ah . . . Anonymousinformer are . . . Well, ah . . . Rather fantastic. But yourreputation--" He let the sentence hang. 

Bending was not at all immune to flattery. He grinned. "Do you mean thatyou came to me to talk about buying an invention you weren't even sureexisted--just because of my reputation?"

"Frankly, yes, " said Olcott. "Your reputation is . . . Ah . . . Shall wesay, a good one in power engineering circles. "

"Are you an engineer?" Bending asked suddenly. 

Olcott blinked. "Why, no. No, I am not. I'm a lawyer. I thought youunderstood that. "

"Sorry, " Bending said. "I didn't. Most of the financial work around hereis done through my Mr. Luckman. I'm not acquainted with the monetary endof the business. "

Olcott smiled. "Quite all right. Evidently I am not as well known to youas you are to me. Not that it matters. Why did you ask?"

Bending stood up. "I'm going to show you something, Mr. Olcott, " hesaid. "Would you care to come with me to the lab?"

Olcott was on his feet in a second. "I'd be glad to, Mr. Bending. "

 * * * * *

Bending led the man into the lab. "Over here, " he said. At the far endof the laboratory was a thick-legged table cluttered with lengths ofwire, vacuum tubes, transistors, a soldering gun, a couple of meters, and the other various paraphernalia of an electronics workshop. In thecenter of the table, surrounded by the clutter, sat an oblong box. Itdidn't look like much; it was just an eighteen by twelve by ten box, made of black plastic, featureless, except for a couple of dials andknobs on the top of it, and a pair of copper studs sticking out of theend. 

Still, Olcott didn't look skeptical. Nor surprised. Evidently, hisinformant had had plenty of information. Or else his poker face wasbetter than Bending had thought. 

"This is your pilot model?" Olcott asked. 

"One of them, yes. Want to watch it go through its paces?"

"Very much. "

"O. K. First, though, just how good is your technical education? I mean, how basic do I have to get?" Sam Bending was not exactly a diplomat. 

Olcott, however, didn't look offended. "Let's say that if you keep it onthe level of college freshman physics I'll get the general drift. Allright?"

"Sure. I don't intend to get any more technical than that, anyway. I'mgoing to tell you _what_ the Converter does--not _how_. "

"Fair enough--for the moment. Go ahead. "

"Right. " Sam flipped a switch on the top of the box. "Takes a minute orso to warm up, " he said. 

When the "minute or so" had passed, Bending, who had been watching themeters on the top of the machine, said: "See this?" He pointed at a dialface. "That's the voltage. It's controlled by this vernier knob here. "He turned the knob, and the needle on the voltmeter moved obliginglyupwards. "Anything from ten to a thousand volts, " he said. "Easilyadjusted to suit your taste. "

"I don't think I'd like the taste of a thousand volts, " Olcott saidsolemnly. "Might affect the tongue adversely. " Olcott didn't lookparticularly impressed. Why should he? Anyone can build a machine thatcan generate high voltage. 

"Is that AC or DC?" he asked. 

"DC, " said Bending. "But it can easily be converted to AC. Depends onwhat you want to use it for. "

Olcott nodded. "How much power does that thing deliver?"

Sam Bending had been waiting for that question. He delivered his answerwith all the nonchalance of a man dropping a burnt match in an ash tray. 

"Five hundred horsepower. "

Olcott's face simply couldn't hold its expressionless expression againstsomething like that. His lips twitched, and his eyes blinked. "Fivehundred _what_?"

"I will not make the obvious pun, " said Bending. "I said 'five hundredhorsepower'--unquote. About three hundred and seventy-five kilowatts, maximum. "

Olcott appeared to be unable to say anything. He simply stared at thesmall, innocuous-looking Converter. Bending was unable to decide whetherOlcott was overawed by the truth or simply stricken dumb by what mustsound like a monstrous lie. 

Olcott licked his lips with the tip of his small, pink tongue. "Fivehundred horsepower. Hm-m-m. " He took a deep breath. "No wonder thosecopper studs are so thick. "

"Yeah, " said Bending. "If I short 'em across at low voltage, they gethot. "

"_Short them across?_" Olcott's voice sounded harsh. 

Bending was in his seventh heaven, and he showed it. His grin wasrunning as high an energy output as that he claimed for the Converter. "Sure. The amperage is self-limiting. You can only draw about fourhundred amps off the thing, no matter how low you put the voltage. WhenI said five hundred HP, I meant at a thousand volts. As a matter offact, the available power in horsepower is roughly half the voltage. Butthat only applies to this small model. A bigger one could supply more, of course. "

"What does it weigh?" asked Olcott, in a hushed voice. 

"Little over a hundred pounds, " Bending said. 

Olcott tore his eyes away from the fantastic little box and looked intoSam Bending's eyes. "May I ask where you're getting power like that?"

"Sure. Hydrogen fusion, same as the stellarator. "

"It's powered by deuterium?"

Bending delivered his bombshell. "Nope. Water. Plain, ordinaryaitch-two-oh. See those little vents at the side? They exhaust oxygenand helium. It burns about four hundred milligrams of water per hour atmaximum capacity. "

Olcott had either regained control of himself or had passed thesaturation point; Sam couldn't tell which. Olcott said: "Where do youput the water?"

"Why put water in it?" Sam asked coolly. "That small whirring sound youhear isn't the hydrogen-helium conversion; it's a fan blowing airthrough a cooling coil. Even in the Sahara Desert there's enoughmoisture in the air to run this baby. "

"And the fan is powered--"

". . . By the machine itself, naturally, " said Bending. "It's aself-contained unit. Of course, with a really big unit, you might haveto hire someone to hang out their laundry somewhere in the neighborhood, but only in case of emergencies. "

"May I sit down?" asked Olcott. And, without waiting for Sam Bending'spermission, he grabbed a nearby chair and sat. "Mr. Bending, " he said, "what is the cost of one of those units?"

"Well, that one cost several hundred thousand dollars. But the thingcould be mass produced for . . . Oh, around fifteen hundred dollars. Maybeless. "

Olcott absorbed that, blinked, and said: "Is it dangerous? I mean, couldit explode, or does it give out radiation?"

"Well, you have to treat it with respect, of course, " Bending said. Herubbed his big hands together in an unconscious gesture of triumph. "Just like any power source. But it won't explode; that I can guarantee. And there's no danger from radiation. All the power comes out aselectric current. "

 * * * * *

Sam Bending remained silent while Olcott stared at the little black box. Finally, Olcott put his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes, as thoughhe'd been too long without sleep. When he removed his hands, his eyeswere focused on Bending. 

"You realize, " he said, "that we can't give you any sort of contractuntil this has been thoroughly checked by our own engineers and researchmen?"

"Obviously, " said Sam Bending. "But--"

"Do you have a patent?" Olcott interrupted. 

"It's pending, " said Bending. "My lawyer thinks it will go throughpretty quickly. "

Olcott stood up abruptly. "Mr. Bending, if this machine is actually whatyou claim it to be--which, of course, we will have to determine forourselves--I think that we can make you a handsome--a _very_ handsomesettlement. "

"How much?" Bending asked flatly. 

"For full rights--millions, " said Olcott without hesitation. "That wouldbe a . . . Shall we say, an advance . . . An advance on the royalties. "

"What, no bargaining?" Bending said, in a rather startled tone. 

 * * * * *

Olcott shook his head. "Mr. Bending, you know the value of such a deviceas well as I do. You're an intelligent man, and so am I. Haggling willget us nothing but wasted time. We want that machine--we _must_ havethat machine. And you know it. And I know you know it. Why should wequibble?

"I can't say: 'Name your price'; this thing is obviously worth a greatdeal more than even Power Utilities would be able to pay. Not even acorporation like ours can whip up a billion dollars without goingbankrupt. What we pay you will have to be amortized over a period ofyears. But we--"

"Just a minute, Mr. Olcott, " Bending interrupted. "Exactly what do youintend to do with the Converter if I sell it to you?"

Olcott hesitated. "Why . . . Ah--" He paused. "Actually, I couldn't say, "he said at last. "A decision like that would have to be made by theBoard. Why?"

"How long do you think it would take you to get into production?"

"I . . . Ah . . . Frankly couldn't say, " Olcott said cautiously. "Severalyears, I imagine. . . "

"Longer than that, I dare say, " Bending said, with more than a touch ofsarcasm. "As a matter of fact, you'd pretty much have to suppress theConverter, wouldn't you?"

Olcott looked at Bending, his face expressionless. "Of course. For awhile. You know very well that this could ruin us. "

"The automobile ruined the buggy-whip makers and threw thousands ofblacksmiths out of work, " Bending pointed out. "Such things areinevitable. Every new invention is likely to have an effect like that ifit replaces something older. What do you think atomic energy would havedone to coal mining if it weren't for the fact that coal is needed inthe manufacture of steel? You can't let considerations like that standin the way of technological progress, Mr. Olcott. "

"Is it a question of money?" Olcott asked quietly. 

Bending shook his head. "Not at all. We've already agreed that I couldmake as much as I want by selling it to you. No; it's just that I'm anidealist of sorts. I intend to manufacture the Converter myself, inorder to make sure it gets into the hands of the people. "

"I assure you, Mr. Bending, that Power Utilities would do just that--assoon as it became economically feasible for us to do so. "

"I doubt it, " Sam Bending said flatly. "If any group has control overthe very thing that's going to put them out of business, they don'trelease it; they sit on it. Dictators, for instance, have throughouthistory, promised freedom to their people 'as soon as it was feasible'. Cincinnatus may have done it, but no one else has in the lasttwenty-five centuries. 

"What do you suppose would have happened in the 1940s if the moviemoguls of Hollywood had had the patent rights for television? How manyother inventions actually have been held down simply because theinterested parties _did_ happen to get their hands on them first?

"No, Mr. Olcott; I don't think I can allow Power Utilities to have afinger in this pie or the public would never get a slice of it. "

Olcott stood up slowly from the chair. "I see, Mr. Bending; you're quitefrank about your views, anyway. " He paused. "I shall have to talk thisover with the Board. There must be some way of averting total disaster. If we find one, we'll let you know, Mr. Bending. "

 * * * * *

And that was it. That was the line that had stuck in the back ofBending's mind for two weeks. _If we find a way of averting totaldisaster, we'll let you know, Mr. Bending. _

And they evidently thought they'd found a way. For two weeks, there hadbeen phone calls from officers of greater or lesser importance in PowerUtilities, but they all seemed to think that if they could offer enoughmoney, Sam Bending would capitulate. Finally, they had taken thedecisive step of stealing the Converter. Bending wondered how they hadknown where it was; he had taken the precaution of concealing it, justin case there might be an attempt at robbery, and using it as powersupply for the lab had seemed the best hiding place. But evidentlysomeone at Power Utilities had read Poe's "Purloined Letter, " too. 

He smiled grimly. Even if the police didn't find any clues leading themto the thieves who'd broken into his lab, the boys at Power Utilitieswould find themselves in trouble. The second they started to open theConverter, it would begin to fuse. If they were quick, whoever opened itshould be able to get away from it before it melted down into anunrecognizable mass. 

Sam Bending took the tape from the playback and returned it to hisfiles. 

He wondered how the Power Utilities boys had managed to find where theConverter was. Checking the power that had been used by BendingConsultants? Possibly. It would show that less had been used in the pasttwo weeks than was normally the case. Only the big building next doorwas still using current from the power lines. Still, that would havemeant that they had read the meter in the last two weeks, which, inturn, meant that they had been suspicious in the first place or theywouldn't have ordered an extra reading. 

On the other hand, if--

The visiphone rang. 

It was the phone with the unregistered number, a direct line that didn'tgo through his secretary's switchboard. 

He flipped it on. "Yes?" He never bothered to identify himself on thatphone; anyone who had the number knew who they were calling. Themild-looking, plumpish, blond-haired man whose face came onto the screenwas immediately recognizable. 

"How's everything, Mr. Bending?" he asked with cordial geniality. 

"Fine, Mr. Trask, " Bending answered automatically. "And you?"

"Reasonable, reasonable. I hear you had the police out your way thismorning. " There was a questioning look in his round blue eyes. "Notrouble, I hope. "

Sam understood the question behind the statement. Vernon Trask was thego-between for some of the biggest black market operators in thecountry. Bending didn't like to have to deal with him, but one had verylittle choice these days. 

"No. No trouble. Burglary in the night. Someone opened my safe andpicked up a few thousand dollars, is all. "

"I see. " Trask was obviously wondering whether some black marketoperator would be approached by a couple of burglars in the next fewdays--a couple of burglars trying to peddle apparatus and equipment thathad been stolen from Bending. There still were crooks who thought thatthe black market dealt in stolen goods of that sort. 

"Some of my instruments were smashed, " Bending said, "but none of themare missing. "

"I'm glad to hear that, " Trask said. And Bending knew he meant it. Theblack market boys didn't like to have their customers robbed ofscientific equipment; it might reflect back on them. "I just thought I'dexplain about missing our appointment this morning, " Trask went on. "Itwas unavoidable; something unexpected came up. "

Trask was being cagey, as always. He didn't talk directly, even over aphone that wasn't supposed to be tapped. Bending understood, though. Some of the robotics equipment he'd contracted to get from Trask wassupposed to have been delivered that morning, but when the deliveryagent had seen the police car out front, he'd kept right on goingnaturally enough. 

"That's all right, Mr. Trask, " Bending said. "What with all this troublethis morning, it actually slipped my mind. Another time, perhaps. "

Trask nodded. "I'll try to make arrangements for a later date. Thanks alot, Mr. Bending. Good-by. "

Bending said good-by and cut the connection. 

Samson Bending didn't like being forced to buy from the black marketoperators, but there was nothing else to do if one wanted certain piecesof equipment. During the "Tense War" of the late Sixties, the Federaland State governments had gone into a state of near-panic. The war thathad begun in the Near East had flashed northwards to ignite the eternalPowder Keg of Europe. But there were no alliances, no general war; therewere only periodic armed outbreaks, each one in turn threatening to turninto World War III. Each country found itself agreeing to an armisticewith one country while trying to form an alliance with a second anddefending itself from or attacking a third. 

And yet, during it all, no one quite dared to use the Ultimate Weapons. There was plenty of strafing by fighter planes and sorties by smallbomber squadrons, but there was none of the "massive retaliation" ofWorld War II. There could be heard the rattle of small-arms fire and therumble of tanks and the roar of field cannon, but not once was there theterrifying, all-enveloping blast of nuclear bombs. 

But, at the time, no one knew that it wouldn't happen. The UnitedStates and the Soviet Union hovered on the edges of the war, two colossiwho hesitated to interfere directly for fear they would have to come togrips with each other. 

The situation made the "Brinksmanship" of former Secretary Dulles lookas safe as loafing in an easy-chair. 

And the bureaucratic and legislative forces of the United StatesGovernment had reacted in a fairly predictable manner. The "security"guards around scientific research, which had been gradually diminishingtowards the vanishing point, had suddenly been re-imposed--this time, even more stringently and rigidly than ever before. 

Coupled with this was another force--apparently unrelated--which actedto tie in with the Federal security regulations. The juvenile delinquentgangs had begun to realize the value of science. Teen-age hoodlums armedwith homemade pistols were dangerous enough in the Fifties; add aimedrockets and remote-control bombs to their armories, and you have analmost uncontrollable situation. Something had to be done, and variouslaws controlling the sale of scientific apparatus had been passed by thefifty states. And--as with their liquor and divorce laws--no two of thestates had the same set of laws, and no one of them was without gapingflaws. 

By the time the off-again-on-again wars in Europe had been stilled bythe combined pressure of the United Nations--in which the United Statesand the Soviet Union co-operated wholeheartedly, working together in away they had not done for over twenty years--the "scientific controllaws" in the United States had combined to make scientific researchalmost impossible for the layman, and a matter of endless red tape, forms-in-octuplicate, licenses, permits, investigations, delays, andconfusion for the professional. 

The answer, of course, was the black market. What bootlegging had donefor the average citizen in the Twenties, the black market was doing forscientists fifty years later. 

The trouble was that, unlike the Volstead Act, the scientificprohibitions aroused no opposition from the man in the street. Indeed, he rather approved of them. He needed and wanted the products ofscientific research, but he had a vague fear of the scientist--the"egghead. " To his way of thinking, the laws were cleverly-designedrestrictions promulgated by that marvelous epitome of humanity, thecommon man, to keep the mysterious scientists from meddling with thingsthey oughtn't to. 

The result was that the Latin American countries went into full swing, producing just those items which North American scientists couldn't gettheir hands on, because the laws stayed on the books. During the nextten years, they were modified slightly, but only very slightly; but theefforts to enforce them became more and more lax. By the time the lateSeventies and early Eighties rolled around, the black marketeers weredoing very nicely, thank you, and any suggestion from scientists thatthe laws should be modified was met with an intensive counterpropagandaeffort by the operators of the black market. 

Actually, the word "operators" is a misnomer. It was known by theauthorities at the time that there was only one ring operating; themarket was too limited to allow for the big-time operations carried onby the liquor smugglers and distillers of half a century before. 

Sam Bending naturally was forced to deal with the black market, just aseveryone else engaged in research was; it was, for instance, the onlysource for a good many technical publications which had been put on theRestricted List. Sam wasn't as dependent on them as college anduniversity research men were, simply because he was engaged inindustrial work, which carried much higher priorities than educationalwork did. 

Sam, however, was fed up with the whole mess, and would have given hiseyeteeth to clear up the whole stupid farce. 

 * * * * *

Irritated by every petty distraction at his office, Sam Bending finallygave up trying to cope with anything for the rest of the day. At threein the afternoon, he told his secretary that he was going home, jammedhis hat on his head, and went out to his car. 

He got in, turned the switch, and listened to the deep hum of theelectric motors inside. Somehow, it made him feel so good that theirritations of the day lessened a great deal. He grinned. 

Power Utilities hadn't even thought of this hiding place. The Converterin the rear of the car gave the vehicle far more power than it needed, but the extra juice came in handy sometimes. The driving motors wouldn'ttake the full output of the generators, of course; the Converter hardlyhad to strain itself to drive the automobile at top speed, and, as longas there was traction, no grade could stall the car. Theoretically, itcould climb straight up a wall. 

Not that Sam Bending had any intention of climbing a wall with it. 

He even had power left over for the sound-effects gadget and theair-heater that made the thing appear to be powered by an ordinaryturbo-electric engine. He listened and smiled as the motors madesatisfying sounds while he pulled out of the parking lot and into thestreet. He kept that pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face for sixblocks. 

And then he began to notice that someone was following him. 

At first, he hadn't paid much attention to it. The car was just a commonFord Cruiser of the nondescript steel blue color that was so popular. But Bending had been conscious of its presence for several blocks. Helooked carefully in the mirror. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it had been several cars of that same colorthat had moved in and out of the traffic behind him. Well, he'd soonsee. 

He kept on going toward the North-South Expressway, and kept watchingthe steel-blue Ford, glancing at his rear view mirror every time hecould afford to take his eyes off the traffic. 

It moved back and forth, but it was never more than three cars behindhim, and usually only one. Coincidence? Possibly. 

At Humber Avenue, he turned left and drove southwards. The steel-blueFord turned, too. Coincidence? Still possible. 

He kept on going down Humber Avenue for ten blocks, until he came to thenext cross street that would take him to a lower entrance to theNorth-South Expressway. He turned right, and the Ford followed. 

At the ramp leading to the northbound side of the Expressway, the Fordwas two cars behind. 

Coincidence? No. That's pushing coincidence too far. If the men in thecar had actually intended to go north on the Expressway, they would havegone on in the direction they had been taking when Bending first noticedthem; they wouldn't have gone ten blocks south out of their way. 

Bending's smile became grim. He had never liked the idea of beingfollowed around, and, since the loss of one of his Converters, he waseven touchier about the notion. Trouble was, his fancy, souped-upLincoln was of no use to him at all. He could outrun them on a clearhighway--but not on the crowded Expressway. Or, conversely, he couldjust keep on driving until they were forced to stop for fuel--but thatcould be a long and tedious trip if they had a full tank. And besides, they might make other arrangements before they went dry. 

Well, there was another way. 

He stayed on the Expressway for the next twenty miles, going far northof where he had intended to turn off. At the Marysville Exit, he wentdown the ramp. He had been waiting for a moment when the Ford would be alittle farther behind than normal, but it hadn't come; at each exit, thedriver of the trailing car would edge up, although he allowed himself todrop behind between exits. Whoever was driving the car knew what he wasdoing. 

At the bottom of the ramp, Bending made a left turn and took the roadinto Marysville. It was a small town, not more than five or six thousandpopulation, but it was big enough. 

There weren't many cars on the streets that led off the main highway. Bending made a right turn and went down one of the quiet boulevards inthe residential section. The steel-blue Ford dropped behind as theyturned; they didn't want to make Bending suspicious, evidently. 

He came to a quiet street parallel to the highway and made a left turn. As soon as he was out of sight of his pursuers, he shoved down on theaccelerator. The car jumped ahead, slamming Bending back in his seat. At the next corner, he turned left again. A glance in the mirror showedhim that the Ford was just turning the previous corner. 

Bending's heavy Lincoln swung around the corner at high speed and shotback toward the highway. At the next corner, he cut left once more, andthe mirror showed that the Ford hadn't made it in time to see him turn. 

They'd probably guess he'd gone left, so he made a right turn as soon ashe hit the next street, and then made another left, then another right. Then he kept on going until he got to the highway. 

A left turn put him back on the highway, headed toward the Expressway. The steel-blue car was nowhere in sight. 

Bending sighed and headed back south towards home. 

 * * * * *

Sam Bending knew there was something wrong when he pulled up in front ofhis garage and pressed the button on the dashboard that was supposed toopen the garage door. Nothing happened. 

He climbed out of the car, went over to the door of the garage, andpushed the emergency button. The door remained obstinately shut. 

Without stopping to wonder what had happened, he sprinted around to thefront door of the house, unlocked it, and pressed the wall switch. Thelights didn't come on, and he knew what had happened. 

Trailing a stream of blue invective, he ran to the rear of the house andwent down the basement stairs. Sure enough. Somebody had taken his houseConverter, too. 

And they hadn't even had the courtesy to shunt him back onto the powerlines. 

At his home, he had built more carefully than he had at the lab. He hadrigged in a switch which would allow him to use either the Converter orthe regular power sources, so that he could work on the Converter if hewanted to. His basement was almost a duplicate of his lab in the city, except that at home he built gadgets just for the fun of watching themwork, while at the lab he was doing more serious research. 

He went over to the cabinet where the switch was, opened it, and punchedthe relay button. The lights came on. 

He stalked back up the stairs and headed for the visiphone. First, hedialed his patent attorney's office; he needed some advice. If PowerUtilities had their hands on two out of three of his Converters, theremight be some trouble over getting the patents through. 

The attorney's secretary said he wasn't in, and she didn't know if heexpected to be back that day. It was, she informed Bending ratherarchly, nearly five in the afternoon. Bending thanked her and hung up. 

He dialed the man's home, but he wasn't there, either. 

Sam Bending stuck a cigarette in his mouth, fired it up, walked over tohis easy-chair and sat down to think. 

According to the police, the first Converter had been stolen on Fridaynight. The second one had obviously been taken sometime this morning, while he was in the lab with the police. 

That made sense. The first one they'd tried to open had fused, so theydecided to try to get a second one. Only how had they known he had hadmore than one? He hadn't told anyone that he had three--or even two. 

Well, no matter. They _had_ found out. The question was, what did he donext? Inform the police of the two thefts or--

There was a car pulling up outside the house. 

Sam stood up and glanced out the window. It was a steel-blue Ford. 

By Heaven! Did they intend to steal the third Converter, too? And rightin front of his eyes, before it even got decently dark?

Sam was so furious that he couldn't even think straight. When the twomen climbed out of the car and started walking toward the house, Sam ranback into his study, pulled open his desk drawer, and took out the . 38Special he kept there. It was the work of seconds to thumb sixcartridges into the chambers and swing the cylinder shut. 

The door chime sounded. 

 * * * * *

Sam went back into the front room with the revolver in his jacket pocketand his hand ready to fire it. 

"Who is it?" he called, in what he hoped was a steady voice. 

"We're Special Agents of the FBI, " said a voice. "May we see you for afew moments, Mr. Bending?"

"Certainly. Come on in; the door's unlocked. " _Just walk in, youphonies! Just trot right on in, he thought. _

And they did. The two men walked in, removing their hats as they did so. 

"We--" one of them began. He stopped when he saw that he was addressinga round, black hole that was only a fraction more than a third of aninch in diameter but looked much, _much_ larger from his viewpoint. 

"Get your hands in the air and turn around very slowly, " said Bending. "Lean forward and brace your hands against the wall. "

They did as they were told. Bending frisked them carefully andthoroughly, thankful that the two years he had spent in the Army hadn'tbeen completely wasted. Neither one of them was carrying a gun. 

Bending stepped back and pocketed his own weapon. "All right. You twocan turn around now. If you want to try anything, come ahead--but Idon't advise it. "

The two men turned around. Neither of them was exactly a small man, butthe two of them together didn't outweigh Samson Bending by more thanfifty pounds. 

"What's the idea of the gun, Mr. Bending?" the taller of the two asked. He seemed to be the spokesman for the team. 

"I'll ask the questions, " Bending said. "But first, I want to tell youthat, in the first place, you can get in trouble for impersonating aFederal officer, and, in the second, I don't like being followed. So youjust trot right back to the boys at Power Utilities and tell them thatif they want to play rough, I am perfectly willing to do likewise. Thatif they come after me again, I'm going to do some very unpleasantthings. Understand?"

"I think we understand, " said the spokesman, still relatively unruffled. "But I don't think _you_ do. Would you care to look at our credentials, Mr. Bending?"

"Credentials?" Sam looked startled. Had he made a mistake?

"That's right. May I take my billfold out?"

Bending took his gun out again. "Go ahead. But slowly. "

The billfold came out slowly. Bending took it. The identification cardand the small gold badge said very plainly that the man was a SpecialAgent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. 

"I . . . I'm sorry, " Bending said weakly. "I thought you were someone else. Some men were following me this afternoon, and--"

"That was us, Mr. Bending. Sorry. "

"May I verify this?" Bending asked. 

"Certainly. Go right ahead. "

Bending phoned the local office of the FBI and verified the identitiesof the two men. When he cut off, he asked dazedly: "What was it youwanted?"

"Would you mind coming with us--downtown? We'd like to have you see somepeople. "

"Am I under arrest?"

"No. " The agent smiled a little. "I suppose, if we had to, we could getyou for speeding and reckless driving; that was pretty fancy dodging youdid. But we're not supposed to be traffic cops. "

Sam smiled feebly. "What's this all about?"

"I haven't the faintest notion, Mr. Bending. Honestly. We were told tostick with you until we got word to pick you up. We got that word justshortly after you . . . Hm-m-m . . . After you left us. Fortunately, wefound you at home. It might have been difficult . . . "

"Can we go in my car?" Bending asked. "I'd rather not leave it unguardedjust now. "

"Certainly. I'll go with you, and Steve can follow. " He paused. "But I'mafraid you'll have to take that revolver out of your pocket and put itaway. "

"Sure, " Bending said. "Sure. "

 * * * * *

Bending's mind simply refused to function during the drive back to thecity. The FBI agent beside him just sat silently while Sam drove thecar. 

Once, Sam asked: "Who is it that wants to see me?"

And the FBI man said: "Sorry, Mr. Bending; I can't answer anyquestions. My job is over as soon as I deliver you. "

A little later, Sam had another question. "Can you tell me where we'regoing, at least?"

"Oh--" the agent laughed, "sure. I thought I had. The General PostOffice Building, on Kenmore Drive. "

After that, Sam didn't say anything. That this whole affair hadsomething to do with the Converter, Sam had no doubt whatsoever. But hecouldn't see exactly what, and none of his wild speculations made sense. 

He pulled up at last into the parking lot behind the Post OfficeBuilding. The second FBI man came up in the steel-blue Ford, and thethree of them got out of the cars and went towards the building. It wasquite dark by now, and the street lights were glowing against a faintfalling of February mist. Bending, in spite of his topcoat, felt chilly. 

They went in the back way, past the uniformed Postal Service guard, andtook an elevator to the sixth floor. None of the three had anything tosay. They walked down the hall, toward the only office that showed anylight behind the frosted glass. The lettering on the glass simply said:_Conference Room A-6_. 

The FBI man who had driven with Sam rapped on the door with gentleknuckles. 

"Yes?" said a questioning voice from the other side. 

"This is Hodsen, sir. Mr. Bending is with us. "

The door opened, and Sam Bending felt mild shock as he saw who it was. He recognized the man from his news photos and TV appearances. It wasthe Honorable Bertram Condley, Secretary of Economics for the Presidentof the United States. 

"Come in, Mr. Bending, " the Secretary said pleasantly. Unnecessarily, headded, "I'm Bertram Condley. "

He held out his hand, and Sam took it. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Secretary. "

Condley gave out with his best friendly-politico smile. "I'm sorry tohave to drag you up here like this, Mr. Bending, but we felt it bestthis way. "

Sam smiled back, with a trace of irony in the smile. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Secretary, " he repeated. 

Condley nodded, still smiling--but there was a spark in his eyes now. "Isee we understand each other. Come on in; I want you to meet theothers. " He looked at the FBI men. "That's all. For now. "

The Federal agents nodded and moved away into the dimness of thecorridor. 

"Come in, man, come in, " the Secretary urged, opening the door wider. 

Sam hesitated. The light within the room was none too bright. Then hestepped forward, following the Secretary. 

 * * * * *

The outer room was dark. Not too dark, but illuminated only by the dimlight from the corridor and from the inner room. From that inner room, there was only a glow of light from the frosted glass panel of the doorthat separated the two rooms. 

Condley closed the hall door, and, as Sam stepped forward toward thelighted door, held out a hand to stop him. "Just a moment, " he whisperedsoftly. "I think you ought to know what you're walking in to, Mr. Bending. "

Bending stood stock-still. "Yes, sir?" he asked, questioningly. 

"I suppose you know what this is all about?" Secretary Condley askedsoftly. 

"The Converter, I imagine, " Sam Bending said. 

Condley nodded, his gray hair gleaming silver in the dim light. "Exactly. I'm sorry we had to drag you up here this way, Mr. Bending, but, in the circumstances, we felt it to be the best way. " He took abreath. "Do you know why we called you here?"

"No, " Sam said honestly. 

Condley's head nodded again. "You're in for an argument, Mr. Bending. Avery powerful one, I hope. We want to convince you of something. " Againhe paused. "Are you an open-minded man, Mr. Bending?"

Sam Bending followed the Secretary's lead, and kept his voice low. "Ilike to think so, Mr. Secretary. " He recognized that Condley waspreparing him for something, and he recognized that the preliminarystatements were calculated to soften him. And he recognized the factthat they _did_ soften him. All right--what was the argument?

"You're an engineer, Mr. Bending, " Condley said, in the same low voice. "You have been trained to evaluate facts. All I ask is that you use thattraining. Now, let's get in there before _Tovarishch_ Artomonov beginsto think we might be stalling him. "

Condley strode toward the door and grasped the knob with a firm hand. Sam Bending followed, wondering. Artomonov? Who was Artomonov? TheSecretary of Economics had indicated, by his precise enunciation of_tovarishch_, that the man was a Russian--or at least a citizen of oneof the Soviet satellites. Sam Bending took a deep breath and decidedthat he was prepared for almost anything. 

There were four men seated around the conference table in the back room, and the most surprising thing, as far as Sam was concerned, was that herecognized only one of them. From the big buildup, he had had half anotion that the President himself might be there. 

"Mr. Samson Bending, gentlemen, " said Secretary Condley to the group. They all rose and made half-hearted attempts to smile, but Sam could seethat they were watching him as though he had a live grenade in hispocket. 

"Mr. Bending, I believe you know Mr. Richard Olcott, " the Secretarysaid. 

Bending gave the Power Utilities executive a sardonic smile, which wasreturned by a solemn nod of the head. 

_Sure I know you, you crook_, Bending thought. 

"And, around the table, " Condley continued, "are Dr. Edward Larchmont, the research departmental head of Power Utilities--Dr. Stefan Vanderlin, of the United States Bureau of Standards--and Dr. Alexis AndreevichArtomonov, of the Soviet Socialist Republics' representative office atthe United Nations. "

Sam Bending managed not to blink in astonishment as the last man wasintroduced--a feat which took every milligram of his self-possession. Herecognized the name; A. A. Artomonov, head of the United Nation'sInternational Trade Bureau. What was _he_ doing here?

"If you'll sit down, Mr. Bending, " Condley was saying, "we can get tobusiness. "

Bending sat down, and the others sat with him. "May I say somethingbefore we go any further?" Sam Bending asked. "May I say that I thinkthis is a rather irregular method of doing things and that I think Iought to see my lawyer. "

Secretary Condley's eyes narrowed just the slightest. He was a heavy, jowl-faced, graying man who was known for his firmness in his officialcapacity. "At this stage of the game, Mr. Bending, there is no need fora lawyer. We merely want to explain something to you--we want you to getall the data. If, afterwards, you still want your lawyer, you'll beperfectly free to call him. Right now, we want you to listen with anopen mind. "

Bending thought it over. "All right. Go ahead. "

 * * * * *

"Very well. First, I'll agree that all this may seem a bit high-handed. But time was--and is--getting short. " He glanced at Olcott, and theglance was not all friendliness. "The Government was notified about thisalmost too late; we have had to act fast. Almost _too_ fast. "

"I notified the Government as soon as I was sure of my facts, " Olcottsaid, completely unflustered. 

"That's as may be, " Condley said. "The point is that we now have theproblem on our hands, and we must find an equitable solution. " He took agold fountain pen from his pocket, and his strong, thick fingers begantoying with it while his eyes remained on Sam Bending. "The fact thatyou have applied for a patent makes it imperative that we get thesituation under control immediately. "

Before Sam could answer, there was a knock on the outer door that cameclearly into the rear room. Secretary Condley rose without saying a wordand went out. 

Dr. Larchmont, the Power Utilities physicist, decided to make small talkto bridge the hiatus. "That's a really beautiful piece of machineryyou've built, Mr. Bending. Really remarkable. " He was a small, flat-faced man with a fringe of dark hair around his otherwise nakedscalp. 

Sam looked a little startled. "You mean you opened a Converter up?"

Larchmont nodded. "I presume you are referring to the fusing device. WeX-rayed the thing thoroughly before we opened it. These days, manydevices are rigged to be self-destroying, but that, in itself is aspecialized field. Most of them are traps that are rather easy to getaround if one is expecting them and knows how to handle them. But theConverter itself, if I may say so, is one of the most original andelegant devices I have seen in many a day. "

"Thanks, " said Bending, with a touch of bitterness in his voice. "I--"

The door opened at that moment, and Secretary Condley came in followedby a tall, round-faced man with dark wavy hair and clear brown eyes. 

"Jim!" Sam said in surprise. 

The man was James Luckman, Sam Bending's business manager. "Hello, Sam. What's this all about? The FBI men who picked me up said I wasn't underarrest, but I had a hunch it was about as close as you can come withoutactual arrest. "

Sam nodded. "Funny--I had that impression, too. " He looked at Condley. "What's the idea, Condley? Jim doesn't know anything about this. "

The Secretary managed to look unoffended at Bending's tone. "Possiblynot. We can't be sure, of course, but--frankly, I'd be willing to acceptyour word. " He paused. "But--you're not a businessman, Mr. Bending?" Hemade it only half a question. 

"No. I leave that sort of thing up to Jim. Oh, I don't say I'mcompletely ignorant of the field; it's just that I'm not particularlyinterested, that's all. Why should I be?" He went on, halfbelligerently. "I've known and trusted Jim for years. He knows hisbusiness; I know my science. I know enough to be able to check theaccount books, and he knows enough to be able to understand a technicalreport. Right, Jim?"

Luckman looked bewildered. "Sure, Sam. But what's all this leading upto? I don't get it. " He frowned suddenly. "Has someone accused me ofcheating you?"

"No, no, no, " Condley said rapidly. "Of course not. Nothing like that. "He looked sharply at Luckman. "Do you know anything about theConverter?"

Jim Luckman glanced at Bending before replying. Bending's face remainedexpressionless. "Go ahead, Jim, " he said, "square with him. "

Luckman spread his hands. "I know that Sam was working on something hecalled a Converter. I don't know anything more about it than that. Samkeeps his ideas secret until he gets them to a marketable stage, whichis all right with me. I have enough work to do, handling the stuff he'salready patented, without worrying about anything that isn't salableyet. So?"

Condley nodded, then gestured toward a chair. "Sit down, Mr. Luckman. Doyou know these other gentlemen?" he asked rhetorically. He proceeded tointroduce the others. Sam Bending noted with satisfaction that Luckmanlooked rather puzzled when the Russian was introduced. 

Condley himself sat down again, and said: "Well, we're all here. We'renot going to make this formal, gentlemen, but I hope it won't developinto a heated argument, either. Let's try to keep our tempers. "

 * * * * *

"First, as to the Converter itself. We all know, with the possibleexception of Mr. Luckman, what it does, but for his benefit, we'll goover that. The Converter, by means of what Dr. Larchmont has been wontto call 'a very elegant method', produces electrical power directly fromthe fusion of hydrogen into helium. A pilot model, with a total volumeof a little more than one and one-quarter cubic feet, is capable ofturning out up to five hundred horsepower, either DC or AC in a widerange of frequencies. The voltage can be regulated from zero to onethousand volts by simply setting a dial. 

"The device is powered by using ordinary water as fuel. At fullcapacity, the Converter consumes approximately four hundred milligramsof water per hour, which can easily be drawn from the moisture of theair. The machine is thus self-fueling. 

"Since the nuclear energy released is converted almost one hundred percent into electrical current, there is no danger from radiation; sincethe process is, by its very nature, self-limiting, there is no danger ofexplosion. The worst that can happen is for the machine to burn out, and, I understand, it won't do that unless it is purposely tamperedwith to make it do so. 

"Finally, the device is so inexpensive to produce that it could be soldfor about one-quarter of the price of an ordinary automobile. " Hestopped, cleared his throat, and glanced at Larchmont and Vanderlin. "AmI essentially correct, gentlemen?"

Larchmont nodded, and Vanderlin said, "That's about it. "

Jim Luckman looked at Sam Bending in open admiration. "Wow, " he saidsoftly. "You're quite a genius, Sam. "

"Very well, gentlemen, " Condley continued, "we know what this devicewill do on a physical level. Now we must consider what it will do on aneconomic level. Have you considered what would happen if you put theConverter on the market, Mr. Bending?"

"Certainly, " Bending said, with an angry glance at Olcott. "The PowerUtilities would lose their pants. So what? I figure that any companywhich tries to steal and suppress inventions deserves a licking. "

Secretary Condley glanced at Olcott as though he were trying to holdback a smile, then returned his gaze to Bending. "We won't quibble overthe ethics of the situation, Mr. Bending. You are correct in saying thatPower Utilities would be bankrupt. They couldn't stand the competitionof what amounts to almost unlimited free power. And then what wouldhappen, with every power company in the United States suddenly put outof business?"

Sam looked puzzled. "What difference would it make? People would just begetting their power from another source, that's all. "

Richard Olcott leaned forward earnestly. "May I interject somethinghere? I know you are angry with me, Mr. Bending--perhaps with goodreason. But I'd like to point out something that you might not haverecognized. Public Utilities and its co-operative independent companiesare not owned by individuals. Much of the stock is owned by smallshare-holders who have only a few shares each. The several billiondollars that these companies are worth is spread out over the nation, not just centered with a few wealthy men. In addition, a great manyshares are held by insurance companies and banks. Literally millions ofpeople would lose money--just as surely as if it had been stolen fromthem--if this device went on the market. "

Bending frowned. He hadn't thought of it in exactly that way. "Still, "he said tentatively, "didn't blacksmiths and buggy-whip manufacturersand horse-breeders lose money after World War I?"

"Not to this extent, " Olcott said, shaking his head. "This is not 1918, Mr. Bending. Sixty years ago, our economy was based on gold, not, as itis today on production and manpower, centered in the vast interlockingweb of American industry. "

Condley said: "Mr. Olcott said a moment ago that millions of peoplewould lose money just as surely as if it had been stolen from them. Ithink it would be more proper to say that the money will be destroyed, not stolen. A thief, after all, does put money back into circulationafter he steals it. But when vast amounts of wealth are suddenly removedfrom circulation completely, the economic balance is disastrouslyupset. "

 * * * * *

Sam Bending was still frowning. His grandfather had been a smallbusinessman in 1929--not fabulously wealthy, but certainly well off bythe social standards of the day. Two years later, in 1931, he was broke, wiped out completely, happy and eager to accept any odd job he could getto support his family. 

Sam's father had had to leave school during the Thirties and go to workin order to bring in enough money to keep the family going. GrandfatherBending, weakened by long hours of labor that he was physically unfitfor, had become an invalid, and the entire support of the family haddevolved upon Sam's father. 

He could remember his dad talking about the breadlines and the free-soupkitchens. He could remember his grandmother, her hands crippled byarthritis, aggravated by long hours at a commercial sewing machine in aclothing center sweat-shop, just so she could bring in that little extramoney that meant so much to her children and her invalid husband. 

Could one invention bring all that back again? Could his ownharmless-looking Converter plunge millions back into that kind ofmisery? It seemed hardly possible, but Sam couldn't banish the specterof the Great Depression from his mind. 

"Just how far-reaching would this economic upset be?" he asked Condley. 

Condley had taken out his gold fountain pen again and was rolling itbetween his palms. "Well, that's a question with a long answer, Mr. Bending. Let's begin small and watch it spread. 

"Banks are pretty safe today, aren't they? The Federal Deposit InsuranceCorporation insures all depositors for deposits up to twenty thousanddollars now. A bank is hedged in by so many legal fences that it isalmost impossible for one to fail in the same way that they failed allover the country in the early Thirties. Even if one does fail, throughthe gross mismanagement or illegal activities of its governing board, the depositors don't get excited; they know they're covered. Therehasn't been a really disastrous run on a bank for more than thirtyyears. 

"But banks don't just keep their money in vaults; they invest it. And asignificantly large percentage of that money is invested in powercompanies all over the nation. In an attempt to keep their heads abovewater, those banks would be forced to make up tremendous losses if PowerUtilities failed overnight. It would force them to draw in outstandingloans for ready cash. It would mean turning in United States SavingsBonds, which would put a tremendous strain on the Government. 

"In spite of that, most banks won't be able to stay solvent becausetheir other capital investments will be dropping rapidly in value. AsMr. Olcott said, our monetary system isn't based on gold, but onproduction and goods. If Power Utilities and its members fail, you andyour machine will have destroyed--made worthless--several billiondollars worth of machinery and equipment. You will have thrown tens ofthousands of people out of work. You will have cut the underpinningsfrom beneath the American dollar. 

"And it won't stop there. What will happen to the companies that buildthe dynamos and the boilers and the atomic plants for the powercompanies? What will happen to the copper industry when the need formillions of miles of copper wire vanishes? They will all suffertremendous setbacks, throwing tens of thousands more out of work andlowering the value of their stock drastically. 

"The banks, then, will find their investments suddenly worth only afraction of their former value. They'll fail wholesale. And you can seewhat that will do to the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation and otherinsurance companies. "

Sam Bending nodded slowly. He could see that. Insurance companies basetheir business on the prediction that a certain event--death, accident, or the failure of a bank--will happen to a certain percentage of theircovered clients, and they adjust their rates accordingly. But somethingthat would change a five-percent-failure rate to a fifty-percent-failurerate would break the company. 

And the unemployment rate would go up even higher. And Sam thought ofsomething the Secretary hadn't even mentioned. State and FederalUnemployment Insurance. What would that drain do to the treasuries ofthe various governments involved?

Sam Bending felt as if the thing were snowballing on him. Where wouldthe State and Federal Governments get that money? Taxes? Don't be silly. How can you collect sales taxes when sales are dropping off because ofunemployment? How can you get income taxes from depleted incomes? Howcan you charge luxury taxes when no one is buying luxuries?

Certainly essentials like food, rent, and clothing couldn't be taxed. People would buy as cheaply as possible, which would force down prices. Which would--

 * * * * *

"Where would it go from there?" Sam asked Condley in a shaken voice. 

Condley glanced over at the Russian. "I believe Dr. Artomonov can answerthat one for you. "

Artomonov was a red-faced, fleshy man with almost no hair and a huge, bristling, gray mustache. His eyes were a startling blue. "Mr. Bending, "he said in excellent English, "you may recall that your depression ofthe Thirties was not confined to America. All of Europe became involved. The same will happen again, to a greater degree, if your machine isreleased to the world at this time. " He brushed at his mustache with afingertip. 

"You may wonder what I am doing here, Mr. Bending. You might think thatthe traditional rivalry which has existed between our countries for somany decades would preclude my being admitted to such a secret sessionas this one. I might have thought so, too, fifteen years ago. But whensomething threatens _both_ our countries, the picture changes. We foughttogether during the Motherland War--what you call World War II--becauseof the common threat of German Nazi terrorism. We co-operated tosuppress the brush-fires that threatened us in Europe and the MiddleEast during the so-called Tense War. In big things we must co-operate. 

"Again we are both threatened by a common source, Mr. Bending, and againwe must co-operate. "

Sam Bending felt a chill. The thought that he and his machine were athreat as great as that, a threat to the two greatest nations of Earth, was appalling. 

"I am not a scientist, Mr. Bending, " the Russian went on. "My titlecomes from a degree in economics and political science, not in physicalscience. As soon as this machine was demonstrated to me, however, Icould appreciate its power--not only physically, but economically. Iimmediately contacted my superiors in Moscow to discuss the problem. 

"Naturally, we would like to know the . . . Ah . . . 'elegant' principlebehind its operation. Equally naturally"--he smiled politely atSecretary Condley--"you will not tell us. However, my superiors inMoscow assure me that we need not worry on that score; a machineidentically similar to yours was invented by one of our brilliant youngscientists at the University of Moscow over four years ago. As apatriot, of course, he was willing to have the machine suppressed, andno news of it has leaked out. "

Sam Bending found it difficult to keep from smiling. _Sure_, he thought, _and a man named Popov invented radio, and Yablochkov invented theelectric light_. 

"You see, Mr. Bending, " Dr Artomonov continued, "while we do not havethe unstable setup of money-based capitalism, and while we do not needto worry about such antiquated and dangerous things as fluctuating stockmarkets, we would still find your machine a threat. Communism is basedon the work of the people; our economy is based on the labor of theworking man. It is thus stable, because every man must work. 

"But we, too, have a vast, power network, the destruction of which wouldcause the unemployment of millions of our citizens. The unemploymentalone would cause repercussions all over the Soviet Republics whichwould be difficult to deal with. We would eventually recover, ofcourse, because of the inherent stability of our system, but the shockwould not be good for us. 

"The same thing would happen in every industrialized nation on Earth, "Artomonov went on. "In my work with the United Nations, I have studiedjust such problems. European governments would fall overnight. InGermany, in the 1920s, it was cheaper to burn bundles of one-mark notesthan it was to buy firewood with them. Such things will be repeated, not only in the Germanies, but all over Europe. 

"Some countries, of course, will not be so drastically effected. China, and other parts of Asia which have not built up a vast industrialsystem, will be affected only slightly. The South American countriesstill have a more or less agricultural economy and will not be botheredgreatly. 

"But the great industrial civilizations of East and West will collapse. "

With one breath, Artomonov was saying that the Soviet Union couldweather the storm, and with another he was hinting that it probablywouldn't. But Sam Bending could see the point in spite of the Russian'stortuous logic. 

"I think that is all I have to say for the moment, " Artomonov said, "except to emphasize one point. The Great Depression hit the world somefifty years ago. It was a terrible thing for everyone concerned. But itwas as nothing at all--a mere zephyr of ill wind--compared to what theDepression of the Eighties will be if your machine goes on the market. "

 * * * * *

There was silence for a minute. Sam Bending was thinking hard, and theothers could see it--and they knew there was no point in interrupting atthat moment. 

"Just a second, " Sam said. "There's one thing that I don't really quitesee. I can see that the situation you outline would develop if everypower plant in America--or in the Soviet Union or Europe--were to besuddenly replaced by Converters. I can see that chaos would result. " Hepaused, marshaling his thoughts, then went on, with a tinge of anger inhis voice. 

"But that's not the way it will work! You can't do a thing like thatovernight. To mass produce the Converter will take time--factories willhave to be tooled up for it, and all that. And distribution will taketime. It seems to me that there would be plenty of time to adjust. "

Condley started to say something, but Dr. Artomonov burst inexplosively. 

"Don't you see, Mr. Bending? The threat of the machine is enough! Evenhere in your own country, just the knowledge that such machines were tobe made at some time in the immediate future would have a disastrouseffect! Who would invest in Power Utilities if they knew that within ashort time it would be bankrupt? No one would want to buy such stock, and those who had it would be frantically trying to sell what they had. The effect on the banking system would be the same as if the machinewere already being used. Your Mr. Roosevelt pointed out that fear wasthe problem. "

Bending frowned puzzledly. "I don't see--"

He was interrupted by Dr. Larchmont. "Let me see if I can't give you ananalogy, Mr. Bending. Do you know anything about the so-called 'nervegases'?"

"Some, " admitted Sam. "Most of them aren't gases; they're finelydispersed aerosols. "

Larchmont nodded. "Have you any idea how much it takes to kill a man?"

"A drop or so of the aerosol on the skin is enough, I understand. "

"That's right. Now, how can such a minute amount of poison damage ahuman being?"

Bending began to get a glimmer of what the man was driving at. "Well, Iknow that some of them suppress the enzymic action with acetylcholine, which means that the nerves simply act as though their synapses had beenshorted through. It only takes a small percentage of that kind of damageto the nerve fibers to ruin the whole nervous system. The signals getjammed up and confused, and the whole mechanism ceases to function. Thevictim dies. "

Larchmont nodded. "Now, as I understand it, our banking system is thevital nerve network of our economy. And our system is built oncredit--faith, if you will. Destroy that faith--even a small percentageof it--and you destroy the system. 

"If your machine were to go on the market, there would be no more faithin the present utilities system. Their stocks would be worthless longbefore your machine actually put them out of business. And that wouldhit our banking system the same way a nerve gas hits the nervous system. And the victim--the American economy--would die. And the nation, as anation, would die with it. "

"I see, " said Bending slowly. He didn't like the picture at all; it wasmore frightening than he cared to admit, even to himself. He looked athis business manager. "What do you think, Jim?" he asked softly. He knewhe could depend on Luckman. 

Jim Luckman looked worried. "They're right, Sam. Clean, dead right. Iknow the investment pattern in this country, and I have an idea of whatit must be abroad. This country would be in the middle of the worstdepression in its history. At least we had Federal help during theThirties--but there won't even be a United States Government if thishits. Nor, I think, will there be a Soviet government, in spite of whatDr. Artomonov's personal beliefs may be. "

Significantly, the Russian economist said nothing. 

Sam Bending closed his eyes. "I've worked on this thing for years, " hesaid tensely. "It was . . . It _means_ something to me. I invented it. Iperfected it. " His voice began to quaver just a little. "But if it'sgoing to do . . . To do all that--" He paused and took a deep breath. "Allright. I'll smash my apparatus and destroy my plans and forget aboutit. "

Jim Luckman looked at Secretary Condley. "I don't think that would befair. Sam's worked hard on this thing. He deserves recognition. And thepeople of Earth deserve to get this machine somehow. Can't something beworked out?"

"Certainly, " said Condley. "In some countries, and in some eras, dangerous inventions were suppressed by the simplest method. If it wasdiscovered in time, the inventor was executed summarily, along withanyone else who knew the secret, and the invention was destroyed. TheUnited States isn't that kind of country. " He looked down at his handsand the gold pen again before he went on. 

"Please don't misunderstand, Mr. Bending; we are not trying to keep theConverter under wraps forever. In the first place, I don't think itwould be possible. What do you think, Dr. Vanderlin?"

The Bureau of Standards man said: "I doubt it. Granted, the Converter isnot something one would accidentally stumble across, nor automaticallydeduce from the 'previous state of the art'. I'll admit frankly that Idoubt if I would ever have thought of it. But I doubt gravely that it isso unique that it will never be rediscovered independently. "

"So, " said Condley, "we have no intent to hold it back on that score. And, in the second place, such an invention is too valuable to allow itto be lost. 

"So here is our proposition. You will sell your rights to the Converterto Power Utilities. It won't even be patented in the usual sense; wecan't allow the Converter to become public property at this time. Wecan't make it possible for just anyone to send in a quarter to thePatent Office to find out how it works. That's why we stopped the patentapplication. 

"But the Government will see that a contract is written up which admitsthat you are the inventor of the Converter, and which will give youroyalties on every unit built. High royalties. 

"Under strict Government supervision, Power Utilities will proceed toliquidate their holdings--slowly, so that there will be no repercussionson an economic level. The danger lies, not in the Converter's replacingexisting power equipment, but in the danger of its replacing them tooquickly. But with care and control, the adjustment can be made slowly. The process will take about ten years, but you will receive a lump sum, plus a monthly payment, as an advance against future royalties. "

"I see, " said Bending slowly. "That sounds all right to me. What aboutyou, Jim? What do you think?"

Jim Luckman was smiling again. "Sounds fine to me, Sam. We'll have towork out the terms of the contract, of course, but I think Mr. Olcottand I can see eye to eye. "

Olcott seemed to wince a little. He knew he was over a barrel. 

"I suppose I'll have to be sworn to secrecy, eh?" Bending asked. He wasbeginning to recover his poise. 

Condley nodded. "You will. " He made his characteristic pause, lookingdown at the gold pen and back up. "Mr. Bending, don't think that this isthe first time this has happened. Yours is not the first dangerousinvention that has come up. It just so happens that it's the mostdangerous so far. We don't like to have to work this way, but we must. There was simply nothing else to do. "

Sam Bending leaned back in his chair. "That's all right. To be perfectlyhonest, there are a lot of details that I still don't understand. But Irecognize the fact that I'm simply not an economist; I can see the broadoutlines plainly enough. "

Dr. Artomonov smiled widely. "I do not understand the details of yourmachine, either, Mr. Bending, but I understand the broad outlines of itsoperations well enough to be frightened when I think of what it could doto world economy if it were to be dumped on the market at this time. Iam happy to see that America, as well as Mother Russia, can producepatriots of a high order. "

Sam gave him a smile. "Thanks. " He didn't know quite what else to say toa statement like that. "But Jim, here, is going to spend the nextseveral days trotting out facts and figures for me. I want to see justwhat would take place, if I can wrestle with that kind of data. "

"Oh, brother!" said Jim Luckman softly. "Well, I'll try. "

"I'll have the reports from the computers sent to you, " Condley offered. "They show the whole collapse, step by step. "

Artomonov cast a speculative glance in Condley's direction, but he saidnothing. 

"There's one other thing, " Sam said flatly. "The Converter is my baby, and I want to go on working on it. I think Power Utilities might put meon as a permanent consultant, so that I could earn some of the moneythat's coming in over the next ten years. That way, my royalties won'tsuffer so much from the advance payments. "

Jim Luckman grinned, and Richard Olcott said: "I thought you said youwere no businessman, Mr. Bending. "

"I may be ignorant, " said Sam, "but I'm not stupid. What about it?"

Olcott glanced at Dr. Larchmont. The little scientist was beaming. 

"Definitely, " he said. "I want Mr. Bending to show me how he managed todope that thing out. And, to be perfectly frank, there are a couple ofthings in there that I don't get at all. "

"That's understandable, " said Dr. Vanderlin. "We only had a few hours tolook at the thing. Still, I must admit it's a lulu. "

"That's not what I meant, " Larchmont said. "There are some things inthere that would take a long time to figure out without an explanation. I'll admit that--"

"Wait a minute, " Bending interrupted. "You said 'a few hours', Dr. Vanderlin. You mean only since this morning?" He grinned. "What happenedto the one you got Friday night? Did my fusing device work the firsttime?"

Vanderlin looked puzzledly at Larchmont. Larchmont said wonderingly:"Friday? You mean you had _two_ pilot models?"

Olcott said: "Where was the other? We checked your power drain and sawyou weren't using any at your house, so--"

"I had three models, " Bending said. "I've got one left in my car; youtook one from my house, and the third was taken from my lab sometimeFriday night. Somebody has it . . . "

Condley said: "Dr. Artomonov, do you know anything about this?"

The Russian shook his head. "Nothing. " He looked plainly frightened. "Iassure you, my government knew nothing of this. "

Condley leaped to his feet, said: "Where are those FBI men?" and ran outthe door. 

"The black market, " said Bending softly. "They found out somehow. "

"And they've had three days to study it, " Larchmont said. "It's too latenow. That thing is probably somewhere in South America by this time. "

Artomonov stood up, his face oddly pale. "You must excuse me, gentlemen. I must get in touch with Moscow immediately. " He strode out of the room. 

The four men remaining in the room just stared at each other for a longmoment. There wasn't much else they could do. 

THE END