John O'Hara Smith shook his head like a teacher confronted with a pupil who was not too bright. "Now, General, if an inertial guidance system can be penetrated, a destructor can be blocked." "That's a mighty big if," the General shot back. Dr. Smith smiled sardonically. "It may not be so big when Eddie tells us what happened to the X-15!" "When!" the General groaned. Then he came back to the problem of intercepted ICBM missiles. Half seriously, half sarcastically, he asked: "What does Eddie think we should do about those missiles?" "Undoubtedly there are other guidance systems that can't be broken so easily ... meanwhile, Eddie suggests booby-trapping the missiles so they'll explode when tampered with." General Sanders closed his eyes again, and tilted back his chair. The frown between his eyes deepened. It was six o'clock, and the early dusk was closing in on the workroom, before another statement came from Eddie. In its characteristic monotone, the educatable computer said: "The existing developmental missile program will not be affected by the rising divorce rate in Bakersfield and Kern County." Dr. John O'Hara Smith pursed his lips in disapproval. "Eddie's not behaving at all well! I'm afraid that new circuit relay will take some working over...." General Sanders climbed slowly to his feet. He picked up his hat. "O.K., Smith," he said, "You sold me a bill of goods, and I bought it! Now I'm turning you and this whole damn mess back to the FBI! Let Cowles go crazy for awhile!" * * * * * As Frank Cowles sat in the General's office and heard what had been going on, he said mildly: "Well, I guess you had to take the gamble." "Thanks," said General Sanders. "I hope the Pentagon will look at it the same way--but I doubt it!" "We've got a problem, too, General," Cowles pointed out. "When everything's said and done, there's absolutely no charge we can file against Smith." "But he just can't walk away--not with all he--or that miserable Eddie--knows about the X-15!" Cowles smiled faintly. "I would imagine that Eddie now belongs to the Air Force." "We'll break the damn thing up for scrap!" The General's intercom buzzed. An aide's voice said apologetically: "That Dr. Smith is calling you again, Sir." "Tell him to go to hell!" A few seconds later, the intercom buzzed again. "Dr. Smith on the line, Sir--He says it's something about the X-15 missile." General Sanders looked as though he wanted to sweep the intercom off his desk. "Why not talk to him," Cowles suggested. "I'd like to hear this." The General picked up his phone, and said with deceptive calm: "All right, Smith ... make it short." "It was the logging truck," Dr. Smith replied, in his most superior manner. "Huh?"