e desk and watched him go through the
business of unloading his pipe, taking the carefully air-tight top off
the humidor we had machined for him down in the lab, and loading up
with the cheapest Burley you can buy. So much for air-tight
containers. Doc got it going, which took two wooden matches, because
the stuff was wringing wet--thanks again to an air-tight container.

"I just left Cleary's office, Mike," he explained. "He won't admit
that there's any significance to the failures you have introduced in
his solenoid. He insists that your test procedures affected
performance more than design did, and he wants to talk with you."

"Great," I said glumly. "Can I count on you to give me a good
recommendation for my next employer?"

"Cut it out, Mike," he said, coming as near to a snap as his careful
voice could manage. He blew smoke out around the stem of his pipe. I
think sometimes it's a part of his act, like the slightly-out-of-press
sports jacket and flannel trousers. It says he is a sure enough Ph.D.
If you ask me, he's a comer. You can't rate him for lack of brains. He
knows an awful lot about solid-state physics, and for a physicist, he
sure learned enough about micro-assemblies of electronic components. I
guess that's why he was in charge of final assembly of the Telstar
satellites for COMCORP.

"Don't worry about what Paul Cleary can do _to_ you, Mike," he
suggested. "Think a little bit more about what Fred Stone can do _for_
you. Cleary is only a year or so from retirement, and you know it."

"He could make that an awful tough year, Doc." I said. "You told me he
won't hear of design bugs in that solenoid. He'll insist something
went wrong in assembly."

Doc Stone smiled thinly at me and brushed at his blond crew cut. "It
is a tough spot, Mike," he agreed. "Because I won't hear any talk of
faulty assembly. You'll have to choose, I guess. If you think you can
make your bed by playing footsie with an old fud who has only a year
to go, try it. Just remember that I've got another thirty years to go,
and I'll breathe down your neck every minute of them if you let me
down!"

"Sure," I said. "When do I see him?"

"Now."

* * * * *

Doc Stone got someone named Sylvia on the phone and then told me to go
right up. After I got there, I had to sit and wait in Cleary's outer
office.

I shared it with a small, intense girl named Sylvia Shouff, if you
believed the little plastic sign