"Here. Read for yourself. Here's the record of the conversation between your brother and di Cassio. I think it's what you're looking for." Walton accepted the sheets tensely and began to read: Di Cassio: _You have a what?_ Fred Walton: _An immortality serum. Eternal life. You know. Some Popeek scientist invented it, and I stole his notebook from my brother's office. It's all here._ Di Cassio: _Buono! Excellent work. Excellent. Immortality, you say?_ Fred Walton: _Damned right. And it's the weapon we can use to pry Roy out of office. All I have to do is tell him he'd better get out of the way or we'll turn the serum loose on humanity, and he'll move. He's an idealist--stars in his eyes and all that. He won't dare resist._ Di Cassio: _This is marvelous. You will, of course, send the serum formula to us for safe keeping?_ Fred Walton: _Like hell I will. I'm keeping those notes right where they belong--inside my head. I've destroyed the notebooks and had the scientist killed. The only one who knows the secret is yours truly. This is just to prevent double-crossing on your part, di Cassio. Not that I don't trust you, you understand._ Di Cassio: _Fred, my boy--_ Fred Walton: _None of that stuff. You gave me a free hand. Don't try to interfere now._ Walton let the transcript slip from his numb hands to the floor. "My God," he said softly. "My God!" Martinez' bright eyes flicked from Walton to the scattered papers on the floor. "What's the trouble? You've got Fred in your custody, haven't you?" "Didn't you read the order I sent you?" Martinez chuckled hollowly. "Well, yes--it was a Happysleep authorization. But I thought it was just a way of avoiding that writ ... I mean ... your own _brother_, man?" "That was no dodge," Walton said. "That was a Happysleep order, and I meant it. Really. Unless there was a slip-up, Fred went to the chamber four hours ago. And," said Walton, "he took the Lamarre formula along with him." * * * * * Alone in his office in the night-shadowed Cullen Building, Walton stared at his own distorted reflection mirrored in the opaqued windows. On his desk lay the slip of paper bearing the names of those who had gone to Happysleep in the 1500 gassing. Frederic Walton was the fourth name on the list. For once, there had been no slip-ups. Walton thought back over the events of the last nine days. One of his earliest realizations during that time had been that the head of Popeek held powers of life and death over humanity. Godlike, he had assumed both responsibilities. He had granted life to Philip Prior; that had been the start of this chain of events, and the first of his many mistakes. Now, he had given death to Frederic Walton, an act in itself justifiable, but in consequence the most massive of his errors. All his scheming had come to naught. Any help now would have to come from without.