Another shock wave rippled over Fred's face. "You can't be serious, Roy. My employers know where I am; they know what I'm here for. If they don't hear from me within twenty-four hours, they'll proceed with serum distribution. You can't hope to--" "I'll risk it," Walton interrupted. "If nothing else, I'll have a twenty-four extension. You didn't really think I could hand Popeek over to you on a platter, Fred? Why, I don't even know how secure my _own_ position is here. So I'm afraid I'll have to back down on my offer. You're under arrest, Fred!" "_Arrest!_" Fred sprang from his seat and circled around the desk toward Walton. For a moment the two brothers stared at each other, faces inches apart. Walton put one hand on his brother's shoulder and, gripping tightly, forced him around to the front of the desk. "You had this all planned, didn't you?" Fred said bitterly. "Yesterday, when you talked to me, you knew this was what you were going to do. But you said you'd yield, and I believed you! I don't fool easy, but I thought I had you pegged because you were my brother. I _knew_ you. You wouldn't do a sneaky thing like this." "But I did," Walton said. Suddenly, Fred jumped. He charged at Walton blindly, head down. In the same motion, Walton signaled for Keeler and his men to break in, and met Fred's charge. He caught his brother in midstride with a swinging punch that sent his head cracking back sharply. Fred's face twisted and writhed, more in astonishment than pain. He stepped back, rubbing his chin. "You've changed," he said. "This job's made you tough. A year ago you would never have done this to me." Walton shrugged. "Look behind you, Fred. And this time you can trust me." Fred turned warily. Keeler and two other gray-clad security men stood there. "Drug him and take him away," Walton said. "Have him held in custody until I notify Martinez." Fred's eyes widened. "You're a _dictator_!" he said hoarsely. "You just move people around like chessmen, Roy. Like chessmen." "Drug him," Walton repeated. Keeler stepped forward, a tiny hypodermic spray cupped in his hand. He activated it with a twitch of his thumb and touched it to Fred's forearm. A momentary hum droned in the office as the vibrating spray forced the drug into Fred's arm. He slumped like an empty sack. "Pick him up," Keeler ordered. "Take him and let's get going." * * * * * The story broke in the 1300 edition of _Citizen_, and from the general tone of the piece Walton could see the fine hand of Lee Percy at work. The headline was: _GUY TRIES TO KNOCK OFF POPEEK HEAD_ After the usual string of subheads, all in the cheerful, breezy, barely literate _Citizen_ style, came the body of the story: _A guy tried to bump Popeek top number Roy Walton today. Security men got there in time to keep Walton from getting the same finisher as dead Popeek boss FitzMaugham got last week._