for the ridge of
hills that marked the Colorado border as the radio signal continued to
bleep angrily, and a trio of pursuit planes on the ground began warming
up. Shandor sighed, hoping they would check before they sent ships after
him. It might at least delay them until he reached his destination.

Another hour carried him to the heart of the Rockies, and across the
great salt fields of Utah. His fuel tanks were low, being emptied one by
one as the tiny ship sped through the bright morning sky, and Tom was
growing uneasy, until suddenly, far to the west and slightly to the
north he spotted the plant, nestling in the mountain foothills. It lay
far below, sprawling like some sort of giant spider across the rugged
terrain. Several hundred cars spread out to the south of the plant, and
he could see others speeding in from the temporary village across the
ridge. Everything was quiet, orderly. He could see the shipments,
crated, sitting in freight cars to the north. And then he saw the drill
line running over to the right of the plant. He followed it, quickly
checking a topographical map in the cockpit, and his heart started
pounding. The railroad branch ran between two low peaks and curved out
toward the desert. Moving over it, he saw the curve, saw it as it cut
off to the left--and seemed to stop dead in the middle of the desert
sand--

Shandor circled even lower, keeping one ear cocked on the radio, and
settled the ship on the railroad line. And just as he cut the motors, he
heard the shrill whine of three pursuit ships screaming in from the
Eastern horizon--

He was out of the 'copter almost as soon as it had touched, throwing a
jacket over his arm, and racing for the place where the drill line
ended. Because he had seen as he slid in for a landing, just what he had
suspected from the topographical map. The drill didn't end in the middle
of a desert at all. It went right on into the mountainside.

The excavation was quite large, the entrance covered and camouflaged
neatly to give the very impression that he had gotten from the air.
Under the camouflage the space was crowded, stacked with crates, boxes,
materials, stacked all along the walls of the tunnel. He followed the
rails in, lighting his way with a small pocket flashlight when the
tunnel turned a corner, cutting off the daylight. Suddenly the tunnel
widened, opening out into a much wider room. He sensed, rather than saw,
the immense size of the vault, smelt th