that a lab technician was a job of world-shaking importance.
What the hell, he shrugged, if the girl didn't look out for her own
interests, she wouldn't have a successful business. There's only one way
to keep clients happy and that's to keep them busy.

Besides, her maneuvering wasn't going to work anyway. He just couldn't
hire any of them. His problem now was to stall her for a couple of days
so he could keep seeing her. In the end he might possibly tell her the
army had refused to accept any of them.

He glanced out the window and saw the Weapons Development Center across
the parade ground. Business appeared to be going on as usual. Routine.
Quiet. Cautious. _High time I start thinking seriously about that
replacement_, he thought.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

Miss Conway bounced in. "They've started to arrive. The first one is a
Mister Thompson."

"Okay, let's get started. Send him in."

* * * * *

Thompson was a small, roundish man in his mid-forties. He remained quite
at ease during the interview. Harry began the session in the usual dull
manner, formulating his questions from the several sheets of information
Mr. Thompson had brought with him.

It wasn't long before Harry detected something unusual about the man.
But he couldn't determine what it was. He became more alert, more
interested as the interview progressed.

"Where are you from originally, Mr. Thompson?"

"Chicago."

"Oh, yes." He glanced at the written information. "I see you went to the
University."

"Yes, sir. My practical experience is documented on the second sheet."

What was it about this guy? He was overly polite but that could hardly
be considered strange. His answers were brief, to the point, even curt.
That was just a personality trait, Harry supposed. Couldn't condemn a
man for that.

"How long did you live in Chicago?"

"Twenty-one years, sir."

"Are you married?"

"No, sir."

He had noted before that Mr. Thompson had a distracting habit of patting
his hair. Now he knew why. He was wearing a toupee. Harry wondered if
the poor guy was sensitive about it. If he _was_ that conscious of it,
it might account for his strange attitude.

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Thompson. I'll submit your papers to
Colonel Waters. If he has any further interest in you, don't be
surprised if you receive a visit from a couple of Intelligence agents.
That's routine for this job. I just te