"Oh." The older man's hands clenched, then loosened. "I am willing ... provided--Is the Co-ordinator fairly certain that my death will enable him--" "It won't get that far, sir. He intends to stop it just before that. He and his associates--I don't know who they are--have been listing every enemy agent they can find, and they will all be taken care of at once. He believes that Boskone will publish in advance a definite time at which they will take you away from us. That was the way it went at Antigan." "Even from the Patrol?" "From Base itself. Co-ordinator Kinnison is pretty sure that they can do it, except for something that he can bring into play only at the last moment. Incidentally, that is why we are having this meeting here, with this detector which he gave me. He is afraid that Base is porous." "In that case ... what can he--" The president fell silent. "All that I know is that we are to dress you in a certain suit of armor and have you in my private office in Base a few minutes before the time they set. We and the guards leave the office at minus two minutes and walk down the corridor, just fast enough so that at minus one minute we are exactly in front of Room Twenty-four. We are to rehearse it until our timing is perfect. I have no idea what is going to happen then, but I know that something will. We are not to discuss this again, even via Lens, as he is pretty sure that you will very shortly be under surveillance every minute." * * * * * Time passed; the Boskonian infiltration progressed strictly according to plan. Upon the surface it appeared that Radelix was going in almost the same fashion in which Antigan IV had gone. Below the surface, however, there was one great difference. Every ship, whether liner or freighter or tramp, which docked at any spaceport of Radelix, brought at least one man who did not leave. Some of these visitors were tall and lithe, some were short and fat. Some were old, some were young. Some were pale, some were burned to the complexion of ancient leather by the fervent rays of space. They were alike only in the "look of eagles" in their steady, quiet eyes. Each landed and went about his ostensible business, interesting himself not at all in any of the others. Again the Boskonians declared their contempt of the Patrol by setting the exact time at which the president was to be taken. Again the appointed hour was midnight. Vice Admiral Lensman Gerrond was, as Kinnison had intimated frequently, somewhat of a brass hat. He did not, he simply could not believe that his Base was as pregnable as the Co-ordinator had assumed it to be. Kinnison, knowing that all ordinary defenses would be useless, had not even mentioned them. Gerrond, unable to believe that his hitherto invincible and invulnerable weapons and defenses were all of a sudden useless, mustered them of his own volition.