Point of Departure By VAUGHAN SHELTON Illustrated by WEISS [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction April 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] As if Donner's troubles weren't bad enough--they were a repetition of something that had created chaos thousands of years ago! "Halleck, for Pete's sake, sit down! You act as if you were ready to attack Donner with your bare hands." The president of the Research Foundation removed an expensive cigar from its plastic cocoon and lit it from young Taplin's eagerly offered lighter. Halleck sat down. "Sorry, G. W. This business has me on edge. I feel responsible for Donner's activities--and for the missing $300,000, too. The whole thing reeks of larceny." "You _are_ responsible, Hal." The president's tone was crisp but not accusing. "That's what a general manager gets paid for. Isn't it time Donner showed up?" "He's to be here at ten, Mr. Caples. The girl will buzz us as soon as he comes in." Orville Taplin was a very good secretary, but his eagerness to prove it sometimes irked his superiors. "Shall I order some coffee sent up, Mr. Caples?" "Not just now. Look, Hal, have you checked on this Simon Kane that Donner mentions in his letter? He doesn't sound quite real. Do we know if there is such a person?" Taplin interrupted the general manager to answer the question. "Yes, sir. There really is a Simon Kane. I talked to Dr. Reed by transatlantic telephone last night. He said Kane was public relations man on his first expedition to Egypt in 1958." "Why the blazes didn't you let _me_ talk to him?" Halleck was on his feet again, a sharp-faced, balding man with a temper that suggested ulcers. "G. W., I--" "Forget it, Hal! What else, young man?" "Well, Dr. Reed said he fired him at the request of the Egyptian government and sent him back to the States. He said it was a long story and he didn't want to get into it on the phone." * * * * * Leaning across the wide mahogany desk and tapping the blotter for emphasis, Halleck said, "Look, G. W., Kane doesn't matter. He's just a name. The Utah Flats plant is short $300,000. Let Donner explain it in court. If Kane or anyone else was involved, let Donner prove it." The buzzer wheezed and Orville Taplin's finger shot to the key. "Yes?" "Mr. Donner is here." G. W. Caples nodded to the question in the secretary's face. "Send him in." The man in the doorway was tall, sandy and rather stooped for early middle age. His straight lined features looked competent, but the mouth was compressed to a narrow hyphen, as if he had lived through this ordeal many times in anticipation and always come out of it badly. His gray business suit was wrinkled with travel.