It was an expensive dress, Vickers recognized, an exclusive Venusian creation of green gossamer that was very nearly transparent even to his normal vision. He was a little shocked and looked away. The man called Thorpe beamed at him. "Glad to see you, Vickers," he said and made it sound genuine. "Won't you sit down?" Vickers let himself sink into a chair across from the girl. He couldn't keep from studying her. Her brown hair was done in a sort of halo effect and she wore wedge type sandals that must have added three inches to her height and made her feet look tiny. Thorpe cleared his throat. "We had a good reason for bringing you here," he said; "I hope it didn't inconvenience you too much." "Get to the point," said Vickers. Thorpe looked startled. "Vickers, we can use a man with your unique talents. In fact, there's a job that no one but you--" "Sorry." Vickers was on his feet, starting for the door to the reception room. "Don't be hasty," Thorpe said in an agitated voice. "I really can't let you go until you hear me out." * * * * * Vickers caught the veiled threat in his words, swung around. Thorpe's finger was resting on a button. The girl had begun to sniff audibly. "All right," said Vickers, "but make it short. I have to register at the Parole Board office before the expiration of twenty-four hours." "No hurry," Thorpe said, waving him back to his chair. "You met your double on the street. He's gone to the board to register in your place. He'll also fill any job they see fit to assign you. So you see, Vickers, you're quite free. You're even supplied with a perfect alibi." Vickers did see. He saw a number of things, none of which reassured him. He said: "Fingerprints?" "They'll check. He's wearing tips with your prints. So will his height and weight. He's a fine actor, Vickers, one of the best." "How did you get my prints? My record is in the ISP secret file, but--" "But that's our business. Secrets, Vickers. Any secrets. State secrets, scientific secrets." He chuckled. "We make no secret about it." Vickers looked skeptical. "Do you mean to tell me that you could steal the plans, say, of the USSE's new space drive?" Thorpe rubbed his hands together, his grin broadening. "We sold them the plans. In fact, we sold those same plans to the Black Republic, the Arab Federation, China and New Spain as well. The only reason we didn't sell them to the United States is because they happened to be the ones who had developed them." He paused to let his words sink in. "That may seem unethical, but it's our policy. In our small way, we feel that we help to preserve the status quo." "Rubbish!" said Vickers. "If you'd done that, they would have sent the lot of you off to Jupiter." "They try." Thorpe looked at his watch. "In fact, Vickers, we have information that the ISP plans to raid us in exactly twenty-three minutes." Vickers stiffened. "Is that straight?"