gs they would like to do."

Dodd nodded. "If you decide to leave the vicinity, let Sam know."

"We'll be in the lobby," Rick said. He motioned to Scotty. His
feelings were of mixed relief at getting out of there and irritation
at Marks for what amounted to summary dismissal.

As they walked to the elevator, Rick asked, "What did you make out of
that?"

"Not much. How about you?"

"A little," Rick admitted. "Enough to know what the project is aiming
at."

"Which is?"

"A guidance system for the intercontinental missile, and a fantastic
one that uses the moon and the sun, and maybe Venus and Mars as
guideposts."

Scotty whistled. "As you said, a lot of good we'll be to this project.
Well, what do we do now?"

Rick ran a hand through his hair. "Follow Barby's instructions." His
sister had said bluntly that both he and Scotty were getting as shaggy
as Dismal, and please get haircuts. He knew why, of course. Barby
wanted them to be at their best, because she liked Jan Morrison very
much and wanted Jan to like the boys, too.

Sam nodded to them as they walked to the elevator. Rick noted that the
guard could watch the stairs as well as the elevator doors. He also
noted that the guard's coat was loose, and that the butt of a Magnum
revolver was within easy reach of his hand. Knowing how Steve Ames
operated, Rick also suspected that other, less visible, methods had
been taken to guard the fourth floor, but there was nothing he could
see.

It was still early in the day and the barbershop in the lobby was not
crowded. Rick and Scotty both were able to get chairs.

Rick browsed through a magazine as the barber worked, but found
nothing of interest. He put it down and looked around him. The shop
was like any other shop, anywhere. He thought that barbershops may
vary in the number of chairs, the luxuriousness of the appointments,
and the size of the mirrors, but they all have about the same smell,
and the same collection of bottles for the barber's use.

However, one item attracted Rick's attention, because it seemed out of
place. It looked for all the world like the hair driers one finds in
beauty shops. There was a stand, and a metal hood.

He gestured toward it. "What's that?"

"It's for treating dry hair," the barber answered. "Special oil
treatment, with electric massage. Very good."

Rick's hair was dry from frequent immersion in both salt and fresh
water. Being inquisitive about everything in the world, h