He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of negation that suddenly surrounded him. His thinking was all wrong; he had to keep trying, had to investigate every possible avenue before giving up. His fingers hovered lightly over a benzolurethrin tablet, then drew back. Stiffly he rose from his chair and switched on the annunciator. "I'm leaving the office for a while," he said hoarsely. "Send all calls to Mr. Eglin." He had to see Fred. * * * * * Security Keep was a big, blocky building beyond the city limits proper, a windowless tower near Nyack, New York. Walton's private jetcopter dropped noiselessly to the landing stage on the wide parapet of the building. He contemplated its dull-bronze metallic exterior for a moment. "Should I wait here?" the pilot asked. "Yes," Walton said. With accession to the permanent directorship he rated a private ship and a live pilot. "I won't be here long." He left the landing stage and stepped within an indicated screener field. There was a long pause. The air up here, Walton thought, is fresh and clean, not like city air. A voice said, "What is your business here?" "I'm Walton, director of Popeek. I have an appointment with Security Head Martinez." "Wait a moment, Director Walton." None of the obsequious _sirring_ and _pleasing_ Walton had grown accustomed to. In its way, the bluntness of address was as refreshing as the unpolluted air. Walton's keen ears detected a gentle electronic whirr; he was being thoroughly scanned. After a moment the metal door before him rose silently into a hidden slot, and he found himself facing an inner door of burnished copper. A screen was set in the inner door. Martinez' face confronted him. "Good morning, Director Walton. You're here for our interview?" "Yes." The inner door closed. This time, two chunky atomic cannons came barreling down to face him snout first. Walton flinched involuntarily, but a smiling Martinez stepped before them and greeted him. "Well, why are you here?" "To see a prisoner of yours. My brother, Fred." Martinez frowned and passed a delicate hand through his rumpled hair. "Seeing prisoners is positively forbidden, Mr. Walton. Seeing them in person, that is. I could arrange a closed-circuit video screening for you." "Forbidden? But the man's here on my word alone. I--" "Your powers, Mr. Walton, are still somewhat less than infinite. This is one rule we never have relaxed, and never will. The prisoners in the Keep are under constant security surveillance, and your presence in the cell block would undermine our entire system. Will video do?" "I guess it'll have to," Walton said. He was not of a mind to argue now. "Come with me, then," said Martinez.