"So you killed Glover to prevent him from continuing his work. What did you intend to gain by that? Somebody else will take it over. How are you going to develop this power source yourself?" Britten groaned audibly. His back arched and his arms strained against the table straps. Through clenched teeth: "Ruppert ... next man in line for Glover's job ... one of us." Wolf's eyes opened wide, and he whirled to the telephone. "I'm calling Washington--" he began, then stopped in horror. Behind him, Britten's voice said, in a strangely firm tone: "_Now is the time._" * * * * * Wolf whirled again. He saw Britten, still strapped to the table, his eyes unglazed, and his facial expression commanding. The FBI men had stiffened, and were standing in place, motionless. "Cover them, and untie me," Britten rapped out, in a voice that was greatly different from the youthful, uncertain tone he had previously used. Grady pulled his gun, backed Wolf and Alma Heller against the wall, while Jones loosened Britten's straps. "So you're one of them, too, Grady," Wolf growled. "And you, Jones. May you burn in hell." "Don't malign them," said Britten, sitting up and rubbing his arms. "They are good, loyal G-men. But they sat outside my door too long, and now they do what I tell them to do." Wolf narrowed his eyes and stared at Britten. "Just what are you?" he demanded. Britten met his gaze, bleakly, and ignored the question. "We have a rendezvous to make. The two of you will escort me to a helicopter that Grady will order. I need not repeat that we are prepared to blast our way out of this place. You'll save lives all around by being as inconspicuous as possible." He indicated that Wolf and Alma Heller would go ahead, while the two agents took up the rear. Out in the main corridor they merged into the confused traffic of the busy hospital, two doctors and two attendants conducting a patient out. Grady took the controls of the helicopter that waited for them out on the parking lot. As they climbed to a high traffic lane, Jones took care of tying the hands of the two doctors behind their seats. Britten sat beside the pilot, staring through the windshield. "Head due west one hundred miles," he said. "Then I'll give you further directions." Wolf looked down through the port next to him and felt his heart constrict as he saw the houses below grow smaller and smaller. One of those houses was his; there was a small figure beside it that could have been his little boy. That was the thought that set his heart beating violently and the adrenalin pumping swiftly through his veins. For himself he didn't care so much, but his son needed a father to come home. He looked at Alma sitting beside him, her face pale and frightened. He wondered how much time there was before the rendezvous. For this was all the time he had. Beyond that were too many unknown factors to consider. He leaned over sideways.