"Fifty percent swing to Popeek. You're the most popular man in the country, as of noon. Churches are offering up prayers for you. There's a move afoot to make you President of the United States in place of old Lanson." "Let Lanson keep his job," Walton chuckled. "I'm not looking for any figurehead jobs. I'm too young. When's the next _Citizen_ due?" "At 1500. We're keeping up hourly editions until the crisis is over." Walton thought for a moment. "I think 1500's too early. The Dirnan arrives in Nairobi at 1530 our time. I want a big splash in the 1600 edition--but not a word before then!" "I'm with you," Percy said, and signed off. A moment later the annunciator said, "There's a closed-circuit call for you from Batavia, sir." "From where?" "Batavia. Java." "Let's have it," Walton said. A fleshy face filled the screen, the face of a man who had lived a soft life in a moist climate. A rumbling voice said, "You are Walton." "I am Walton." "I am Gaetano di Cassio. Pleased of making the acquaintance, Signor Director Walton. I own rubber plantation in the area here." Walton's mind immediately clocked off the top name on the list of landed proprietors Lassen had prepared for him: _di Cassio, Gaetano. 57. Holdings estimated at better than a billion and a quarter. Born Genoa 2175, settled in Amsterdam 2199. Purchased large Java holding 2211._ "What can I do for you, Mr. di Cassio?" The rubber magnate looked ill; his fleshy face was beaded with globules of sweat. "Your brother," he grunted heavily. "Your brother worked for me. I sent him to see you yesterday. He has not come back." "Indeed?" Walton shrugged. "There's a famous phrase I could use at this point. I won't." "Make no flippancies," di Cassio said heavily. "Where is he?" Walton said, "In jail. Attempted coercion of a public official." He realized di Cassio was twice as nervous and tense as he was. "You have jailed him," di Cassio repeated flatly. "Ah, I see. Jail." The audio pickup brought in the sound of stertorous breathing. "Will you not free him?" di Cassio asked. "I will not." "Did he not tell you what would happen if he would not be granted his request?" "He told me," Walton said. "Well?" The fat man looked sick. Walton saw that the bluff was going to be unsuccessful; that the conspirators would not dare put Lamarre's drug into open production. It had been a weapon without weight, and Walton had not let himself be cowed by it. "Well?" Walton repeated inflexibly. "You trouble me sorely," said di Cassio. "You give my heart pain, Mr. Walton. Steps will have to be taken." "The Lamarre immortality serum--" The face on the screen turned a leaden gray. "The serum," di Cassio said, "is not entered into this talking." "Oh, no? My brother Fred made a few remarks--" "Serum _non esiste_!"