ally none succeeded in producing the perfect balance in
such a large knife that made it practical for throwing. It turns over
once in thirty feet, exactly. All I had to do was to get Rakoczi
fifteen feet away from me, and he'd had it. And his own knife, when he
tried to reciprocate, was off balance."

Armstrong said, "Zen!"

"By the way, how is he?" Joe said.

Armstrong said, soberly, "He's dead, Mauser."

"Dead! With all those doctors standing around?"

The general's face assumed its habitually worried expression "I rather
doubt he died of your knife. The highest echelons of the Party do not
approve of failures. You were correct when you said you would have
lost prestige had you fled Rakoczi's challenge or even insisted upon
your diplomatic immunity rights. As it is, the prestige has been lost
on the other side. By the way, it occurs to me that no further effort
will be made to eliminate you physically. It would be too blatant."

Joe said, "One of the things I wanted to talk to you about, general.
While we were in there together, Rakoczi was sounding off in an effort
to crack my nerve. Called me a lot of names, that sort of thing. But
he also said, I'll try to repeat this exactly, _No longer do you worry
about locating the Sov-world underground and helping overthrow the
Party, eh?_"

Armstrong slumped down into the bedside chair. "Dash it! That makes it
definite. They're fully aware of your mission, though they haven't got
it exactly right. Your purpose isn't to aid the local underground but
merely to size it up, get the overall picture." He snorted his
disgust. "I'll have to get in touch with our organization in Greater
Washington. One thing certain, we're not going to be able to let you
go into the field in your status as military attache and observer."

Joe had been scheduled to observe some of the combat taking place in
Chinese Turkestan with nomad rebels. He had looked forward to the
experience, in view of his own background, wondering in what manners
the Sov forces of the Pink Army differed from the mercenary armies of
the West-world. He said now, "Why not?"

Armstrong snorted. "You'd never come out alive. There's be an
accident, and the nomads would be given the dubious credit for having
killed you." He came to his feet again. "I've got to think about this.
I'll drop in later, Mauser."

Joe thought about it too, after the other had left. Obviously, the
restrictions on his movements were a growing han