tate was _least_ ideally
situated for this type of murder; you know what I mean? You've been
there?"

"Well, I--there have been occasions. Yes."

Beardsley nodded. "I refer to Carmack's elaborate system against
invasion of his privacy. To put it bluntly, he had enemies, and his
estate was designed as a refuge against those enemies; electronic
barriers pitched at ultra-frequency to respond only to certain neural
vibrations. Must have taken years of research to come up with that!"

Mandleco shifted impatiently. "Of course, but look here, Beardsley--"

"So it leaves me right where I started, doesn't it? And yet I know this:
it was no _emotional_ killing. It was all coldly planned. The killer was
someone Carmack trusted enough to have in his home; they were probably
having a quiet little chat together. And then precisely--on a
predetermined minute--the killer rose from his chair and struck."

Mandleco lifted his heavy hands and then, as if conscious of them, let
them fall limply across the desk. "But--come now, Beardsley! Psychologic
deduction is all very well, but how can you possibly know that?"

Beardsley gazed calmly at the Minister of Justice. For a moment he said
nothing. Mandleco seemed more alert than startled, more annoyed than
either.

"That," said Beardsley softly, "I am not prepared to tell you."

Mandleco seemed about to pursue the point, but there came an
interruption. Both men turned abruptly as the stat-screen gave its
warning blip.

"Code C-C-Five!" came the remote voice. "Bermuda to Washington,
Priority. This is Priority. C-C-Five ... your party is ready now, sir!"

* * * * *

It was a pool-side scene, with hotel and tropical palms against an
unbelievable blue sky. Professor Emil Losch loomed on the screen; he was
in swimming trunks, a small gray man who seemed hard as nails, his lean
tanned body belying his years.

"Hello?" Losch peered sharply and then pulled away, almost upsetting an
expensive decanter of liquor on the table beside him. He seemed to
blanch as he recognized the Minister of Justice. "Mandleco!"

The latter raised a hand in greeting. "Don't be alarmed, Professor, this
is not official. Just a social call."

"I want to correct that," Beardsley said bluntly as he thrust himself
into range. "Professor Losch, this _is_ official; furthermore, I wish to
advise you that this stat is monitor-taped for both vis and audio, and
the resulting record is th