There was a trace of uneasiness in Browne's manner, but he tried to cover it by looking annoyed. "I don't know why in the devil you fellows are spending so much time on Smith!... He sure as hell didn't blow himself up!" "Of course not," Cowles said, placatingly. "But we never know where a lead will come from...." He repeated the question. Browne hesitated. "I suppose," he began, shifting his big bulk uncomfortably, "this will sound kind of odd ... but you know we've got the subcontract to produce this actuating cylinder for the Atlas...." The agent nodded. "Well, six months before we were asked to submit specs and bids on such a cylinder, Smith came to me and said he had an idea for something the Air Force might soon be needing...." Agent Cowles maintained his air of polite attention, but his cool grey eyes narrowed. Browne shifted again, and continued: "I told him to go ahead--you never can tell what these research guys will come up with...." "And what did he come up with, Mr. Browne?" "You won't believe this, maybe--but he came up with the design for the complete vernier hydraulic actuating cylinder--including the drive sector gear--at least three months before we had the faintest idea such an item would even be needed!" The FBI man's ball-point pen moved swiftly. "Anything else?" Browne instinctively lowered his voice: "Smith even suggested that the cylinder would help to offset the roll and yaw in an intercontinental ballistic missile!" A brittle edge came into the agent's courteous tone: "Did you report this to security?" In spite of the air-conditioning unit in the window, the president and owner of Pacific Electronics, Inc., seemed to feel that the room was getting very warm. He ran a fat forefinger under his white collar. "No," he admitted. "We got the contract, of course--it was a cinch!--and I just wrote it off as a lucky break.... You can see how I'd feel, can't you?" "Yes," said Cowles, "I can." Bit by bit, a new picture of the meticulous, professorial Dr. Smith began to emerge from the FBI dossier. During the working week, his habit had been to keep his trailer in a small park just off Sepulveda Blvd., a half-mile from the Pacific Electronics plant. After work on Fridays, he invariably left for the weekend, usually for any one of a dozen scenic trailer parks along the coast between San Diego and Santa Barbara. He always went alone. No one had ever seen or met "Eddie". Outside of working hours, Smith's only association with his professional colleagues was through the Institute of Research Engineers. He attended monthly meetings, and occasionally wrote dry, abstract articles on theoretical research for the Institute's quarterly journal.