his extra duties, it would be an even longer time
before the employee-pilot would have much business in the luxury
shopping center, anyway.

Morely smiled bitterly as he closed the door of his ship. It didn't pay
to cross Howard Morely--ever.

He walked slowly toward the landing slot, motioning imperiously to an
approaching guard.

"Have someone place that ship for me," he ordered, jerking a thumb back
toward his heli. "Then come over to that wreck. I shall want words with
the pilot." He held out his small identification folder.

The guard's glance went to the folder. For an instant, he studied the
card exposed before him, then he straightened and saluted, his face
expressionless.

"Yes, sir." He signaled another guard, then pointed toward Morely's
ship, and to the landing slot. "I can go with you now."

The two went down in the elevator and walked over to the wrecked
sportster. A slender man was crawling from a door. When the man was
clear of his ship, Morely beckoned.

"Over here, Fellow," he commanded.

The sportster pilot approached, the indignation on his face changing to
bewilderment, then dismay as he noted Morely's insignia and the attitude
of the two men who faced him.

Morely turned to the guard.

"Get me his name, identification number, and the name of his leader."

"Yes, sir."

The guard turned to the man, who grimaced a little with pain as he
slowly put a hand in his pocket. Wordlessly, he extracted a bulky
folder, from which he took a small booklet. He held out the booklet to
the guard.

Morely held out a hand. "Never mind," he said. "Simply put him in
custody. I'll turn this over to his leader myself."

He had noted the cover design on the booklet. It was from District
One--Harwood's district. He flipped the cover open, ascertaining that
there was no transfer notice. He'd give this to Harwood all right--at
the right time. He looked at his watch.

"I shall want my heli in about three hours," he announced. "See to it
that it's ready. And have a man check the fuel and see if the ship's
damaged in any way." He turned away.

* * * * *

The district leaders sat before the large conference table. Among them,
close to the director's place, was Morely, his face fixed in an
expression of alert interest. His informant had been right. The man must
have gotten a look at the Old Man's notes. The regional director was
criticizing the laxity in inspection and control