current from the power lines. Still, that would have
meant that they had read the meter in the last two weeks, which, in
turn, meant that they had been suspicious in the first place or they
wouldn't have ordered an extra reading.

On the other hand, if--

The visiphone rang.

It was the phone with the unregistered number, a direct line that didn't
go through his secretary's switchboard.

He flipped it on. "Yes?" He never bothered to identify himself on that
phone; anyone who had the number knew who they were calling. The
mild-looking, plumpish, blond-haired man whose face came onto the screen
was immediately recognizable.

"How's everything, Mr. Bending?" he asked with cordial geniality.

"Fine, Mr. Trask," Bending answered automatically. "And you?"

"Reasonable, reasonable. I hear you had the police out your way this
morning." There was a questioning look in his round blue eyes. "No
trouble, I hope."

Sam understood the question behind the statement. Vernon Trask was the
go-between for some of the biggest black market operators in the
country. Bending didn't like to have to deal with him, but one had very
little choice these days.

"No. No trouble. Burglary in the night. Someone opened my safe and
picked up a few thousand dollars, is all."

"I see." Trask was obviously wondering whether some black market
operator would be approached by a couple of burglars in the next few
days--a couple of burglars trying to peddle apparatus and equipment that
had been stolen from Bending. There still were crooks who thought that
the black market dealt in stolen goods of that sort.

"Some of my instruments were smashed," Bending said, "but none of them
are missing."

"I'm glad to hear that," Trask said. And Bending knew he meant it. The
black market boys didn't like to have their customers robbed of
scientific equipment; it might reflect back on them. "I just thought I'd
explain about missing our appointment this morning," Trask went on. "It
was unavoidable; something unexpected came up."

Trask was being cagey, as always. He didn't talk directly, even over a
phone that wasn't supposed to be tapped. Bending understood, though.
Some of the robotics equipment he'd contracted to get from Trask was
supposed to have been delivered that morning, but when the delivery
agent had seen the police car out front, he'd kept right on going
naturally enough.

"That's all right, Mr. Trask," Bending said. "What with all this trouble