been
baited.

Jeff Arnold was abruptly all business. He plunged his finger at a
button, spoke into the intercom. "Joe! How's that test-run coming?"

"All-X so far! Give us ten minutes for clearance."

"Take twenty, but make sure it's _clearance_. Checked Quantitative, have
you? How about feed-backs? ... yes ... what's that? Semantic circuits!
Hell yes, check _all_ synaptics for clearance! I want no excess data
fouling up this run!"

He clicked off and sat there moodily, and Beardsley watched him, noting
the quick nervous rhythm of Arnold's fingers. Arnold noticed it, too,
and desisted.

"Look," he said. "Mandleco, Losch, Pederson. Those three Primes just
don't make sense to me!"

"They don't?" Beardsley allowed just the proper note of resentment.
"Surely you are not questioning Cooerdinates...."

"You know I'm not! But--"

Beardsley waited, knowing it was coming now. The thing Arnold had been
aching to voice for the past five minutes.

"But--well, damn it, there is _Mrs._ Carmack, for example. As you
pointed out yourself, she'll be a rich woman now! It would seem to me--"

"That she'd be a Prime? I'm surprised at you, Jeff; that's ancient
thinking." If there was a trace of sarcasm, it was lost on Arnold. "Oh,
I grant you it used to hold true--principle beneficiary was always prime
suspect. Fiction especially was full of it. Queen, Dickson Carr, Boucher
you--know the ilk. But with ECAIAC we've gotten away from all that,
haven't we?"

Arnold stared at him suspiciously, hesitated, then brought it out with
an effort. "Well--how _did_ she equate?"

"Who? Oh yes, the beautiful widow. She only made Logical, and even that
is borderline."

"I see." Arnold rose, dialled himself another drink, then changed his
mind and put it down untouched. He turned to gather up the tapes, and
his voice was apologetic.

"It's not that I'd ever questioned Cooerdinates Division! We're too
closely aligned for that, Raoul...." (_First time he's ever used my
first name_, thought Beardsley.) "You have a splendid record to uphold,
as we do here at Mechanical. That's why ... well, I want to get this off
as smoothly as possible!"

Something indefinable, a queasy feeling, took Beardsley about the
middle. He said sharply: "Any reason why not?"

"No, not really. But in recent weeks--I tell you this in strictest
confidence, understand!--in recent weeks it's been a rather ticklish
thing to get total synaptic clearance."

*