"Someone slipped. Supposing," Hoagland suggested, "that you were held incommunicado while your double went to Proxima I and performed your job, complete with the automatic motion picture cameras you installed for--ah--posterity and Haedaecker's greatness. Your double returns and hands in his--your--report. Later the man leaves for parts unknown and you are released, complete with the conviction that yelling to the Authorities about your imprisonment would be at variance with the report, the pictures, and the job's completion. Everything is done as your ultimate superior wants it done, and then you go to him complaining that you were held prisoner. Or--would you, Grayson?" "Well, I--" Hoagland laughed heartily. "You might if you were the simple, honest soul. But Paul Grayson has been making plans to test the Z-wave on Proxima I for a long time and couldn't afford to have someone asking questions as to why Paul Grayson got himself into a cockeyed mess." "But what would it accomplish?" "Stall you for some time." In the back of Paul's mind there was a picture of a very attractive woman offering up eager lips and the warmth of a vibrant body beneath sheer silk--setting up the clay target. He had to know, he did not want to merely guess the answer, he--but Nora Phillips had turned up just as Haedaecker was getting nasty. Had she turned up to stall Haedaecker? Hoagland wanted the Z-wave business stalled for some reason. Nora's actions appeared to be that of someone bent upon aiding Grayson. Even--in the long run--her falsification of the Z-wave reception on Proxima I was one step in getting mankind interested in the problem of communicating with Neoterra. "So you erased him? When he failed, I mean?" Hoagland looked unhappy. "Unfortunate but necessary. However, Joel Walsh was a type of character that Mankind can well do without." Grayson grunted angrily. "Why not bump him first?" "Until he proved completely useless, he had a place," said Hoagland coldly. "There's just enough bad in the best of us, to quote an old cliche." "I suppose when a player has enough pawns he can afford to sacrifice." "Only useless pawns." Paul looked sourly cynical. "And I am the White Knight?" Hoagland smiled affably. "And you balance very badly while sliding down that poker. Again your humility signifies the beginning of great wisdom. I'd hardly call you a Bishop." Paul snorted through his nose. "If we want to make some more puns," he said flatly, "I'll admit that I've been Rooked. But who is the Queen in this mad game, Nora Phillips?" "Hardly." "You mean you'll not tell me the objective. Okay, Hoagland, we'll play one more gambit. I suppose the capture of the White Knight is worth the sacrifice of two pawns." Hoagland smiled self-confidently. "I call it the capture of a Rook as well as the White Knight for--did you say _two_ pawns?" Grayson eyed Hoagland distastefully. "Who was the guy on Proxima?" "Proxima?"