"Right away," said the Major. "Tonight." Then he added detachedly: "Officially, the excuse for your presence there will be that you have been useful in uncovering sabotage methods. You have. After all, through you a number of planes that would have been blown up have now had their booby traps removed. I know you do not claim credit for the fact, but it is an excuse for keeping you where I want you to be for another reason entirely. So it will be assumed that you are at the pushpot field for counter-sabotage inspection." The Major nodded dismissal with an indefinable air of irony, and Joe went unhappily out of his office. He telephoned his father at length. His father did not share Joe's disappointment at being removed to a place of safety. He undertook to begin the castings for an entire new set of pilot gyros at once. A little later Sally came out of her father's office. "I'm sorry, Joe!" He grinned unhappily. "So am I. I don't feel very heroic, but if this is what has to be done to get the Platform out of the Shed and on the way up--it's what has to be done. I suppose I can phone you?" "You can," said Sally. "And you'd better!" They had talked a long time that afternoon, very satisfyingly and without any cares at all. Neither could have remembered much of what had been said. It probably was not earth-shaking in importance. But now there seemed to be a very great deal of other similar conversation urgently needing to be gone through. "I'll call you!" said Joe. Then somebody approached to take him to the pushpot airfield. They separated very formally under the eyes of the impersonal security officer who would drive Joe to his destination. It was a tedious journey through the darkness. This particular security officer was not companionable. He was one of those conscientious people who think that if they keep their mouths shut it will make up for their inability to keep their eyes open. Socially he treated Joe as if he were a highly suspect person. It could be guessed that he treated everybody that way. Joe went to sleep in the car. He was only half-awake when he arrived, and he didn't bother to rouse himself completely when he was shown to a cubbyhole in the officers' barracks. He went to bed, making a half-conscious note to buy himself some clothes--especially fresh linen--in the morning. Then he knew nothing until he was awaked in the early morning by what sounded exactly like the crack of doom. 9