Despite the fact the grizzled Colonel had been his mentor for over a year he felt he hardly knew the man. He was high up in the missile program--missile security, Crag had supposed--yet he seemed to hold power far greater than that of a security officer. He seemed, in fact, to have full charge of the Aztec project--Step One--even though Dr. Kenneth Walmsbelt was its official director. The difference was, the nation knew Walmsbelt. He talked with congressmen, pleaded for money, carried his program to the newspapers and was a familiar figure on the country's TV screens. He was the leading exponent of the space-can't-wait philosophy. But few people knew Gotch; and fewer yet his connections. He was capable, competent, and to Crag's way of thinking, a tough monkey, which pretty well summarized his knowledge of the man. He felt the elation welling inside him, growing until it was almost a painful pleasure. It had been born of months and months of hope, over a year during which he had scarcely dared hope. Now, because a man had died.... He sat looking at the ceiling, thinking, trying to still the inner tumult. Only outwardly was he calm. He heard footsteps returning. Gotch opened the door and entered, followed by a second man. Crag started involuntarily, half-rising from his chair. He was looking at himself! "Crag, meet Adam Crag." The Colonel's voice and face were expressionless. Crag extended his hand, feeling a little silly. "Glad to know you." The newcomer acknowledged the introduction with a grin--the same kind of lopsided grin the real Crag wore. More startling was the selfsame hairline scar traversing his cheek; the same touch of cockiness in the set of his face. Gotch said, "I just wanted you to get a good look at yourself. Crag here"--he motioned his hand toward the newcomer--"is your official double. What were you planning for tonight, your last night on earth?" "I have a date with Ann. Or had," he added sourly. He twisted his head toward Gotch as the Colonel's words sunk home. "Last night?" Gotch disregarded the question. "For what?" "Supper and dancing at the Blue Door." "Then?" "Take her home, if it's any of your damned business," snapped Crag. "I wasn't planning on staying, if that's what you mean." "I know ... I know, we have you on a chart," Gotch said amiably. "We know every move you've made since you wet your first diapers. Like that curvy little brunette secretary out in San Diego, or that blonde night club warbler you were rushing in Las Vegas." Crag flushed. The Colonel eyed him tolerantly. "And plenty more," he added. He glanced at Crag's double. "I'm sure your twin will be happy to fill in for you tonight." "Like hell he will," gritted Crag. The room was quiet for a moment. "As I said, he'll fill in for you." Crag grinned crookedly. "Ann won't go for it. She's used to the real article."