except for a picture of
Alexander Hamilton on one wall, and an award plaque from the State
Chamber of Commerce on the opposite side of the room. He spun his
leather-cushioned swivel chair toward him and sat down and placed his
thick hands against the surface of the desk. Lucile took the only other
chair in the office, to the side of the desk, and flipped open her
appointment pad.

"Quay wants to see you right away. Says it's important."

Cutter nodded slightly and closed his eyes. Lucile went on, calling his
appointments for the day with clicking precision. He stored the
information, leaning back in his chair, adjusting his mind to each, so
that there would be no energy wasted during the hard, swift day.

"That's it," Lucile said. "Do you want to see Quay?"

"Send him in," Cutter said, and he was already leaning into his desk,
signing his name to the first of a dozen letters which he had dictated
into the machine during the last ten minutes of the preceding day.

Lucile disappeared, and three minutes later Robert Quay took her place
in the chair beside Cutter's desk. He was a taller man than Cutter, and
thinner. Still, there was an athletic grace about him, a sureness of
step and facial expression, that made it obvious that he was physically
fit. He was single and only thirty-five, twelve years younger than
Cutter, but he had been with Cutter Products, Inc. for thirteen years.
In college he had been a Phi Beta Kappa and lettered three years on the
varsity as a quarterback. He was the kind of rare combination that
Cutter liked, and Cutter had offered him more than the Chicago Cardinals
to get him at graduation.

Cutter felt Quay's presence, without looking up at him. "Goddamned sweet
morning, eh, Bob?"

"It really is, George," Quay said.

"What's up?" Cutter stopped signing, having finished the entire job, and
he stared directly into Quay's eyes. Quay met the stare unflinchingly.

"I've got a report from Sid Perry at Adacam Research."

"Your under-cover agent again, eh?"

Quay grinned. Adacam Research conducted industrial experimentation which
included government work. The only way to find out what really went on
there, Cutter had found out, was to find a key man who didn't mind
talking for a certain amount of compensation, regardless of sworn oaths
and signatures to government statements. You could always get somebody,
Cutter knew, and Quay had been able to get a young chemist, Sidney
Perry.

"Okay," Cut