eath till he could answer some questions.

"Hey, what's going on?" the detective-agency man in the screen was
asking. "Need help? We'll start a car right away."

"Everything's under control, thank you."

Massarra hesitated for a moment. "What's the dope on this statement
that was on telecast a few minutes ago?" he asked.

"Travis doesn't want us to find Merlin. What you just heard was one of
his people, planted here at Force Command. We're going to question him
when we have time. But there isn't a word of truth in that statement
you just heard on the _Herald-Guardian_ newscast. Merlin exists, and
we've found it. We'll have it opened inside of thirty hours at most."

That was the line he was going to take with everybody. As soon as he
had Massarra off the screen, he was punching the combination of his
father's private screen at Interplanetary Building. It took five
interminable minutes before Rodney Maxwell came on. He could hear Klem
Zareff shouting orders into one of the inside communication
screens--general turnout, everything on combat-ready; guards to come
at once to the office.

"How close are you to digging that thing out?" his father asked as
soon as he appeared.

"We're down to it; we can start cutting the collapsium any time now."

"Start cutting it ten minutes ago," his father told him. "And don't
leave Force Command till you have it open. How many men and vehicles
does Klem have for defense? You'll need all of them in a couple of
hours. Everybody here is stunned, now; they'll come out of it inside
an hour, and they'll come out fighting."

"You'd better come out here." He turned, saw Jerry Rivas helping hold
Shanlee in a chair, and shouted to him: "Jerry! Turn out the workmen.
Start cutting the can open right away." He turned back to his father.
"Klem's just ordered all his force out. Are you coming here?"

"I can't. In about an hour, everything's going up with a bang. I have
to be here to grab a few of the pieces."

"You'll do a lot of good in jail, or on the end of a rope."

"Chance I have to take," his father replied. "I think I'll have a
couple of hours. If anybody from the press calls you, what are you
going to tell them?"

Conn repeated the line he had taken already. His father nodded.

"All right. I'll call you later. If I can. Just keep things going at
your end."

A dozen of Klem Zareff's men were crowding into the room.

"This man's under close arrest," the old soldier was telling t