_JUNE 21:--Visited Doctor Chetzisky today. A brilliant man, deeply concerned for the world. His words moved me as he spoke of policing the world into peace. His hopes, he told me in strictest confidence, rest on an ore discovery by Ian MacRoberts of British Columbia, a university geologist, who seems to have found a new radioactive element easily controlled. The Doctor has received a sample from MacRoberts today to verify the preliminary spectroscopic analysis. When I left, Doctor Chetzisky shook my hand warmly. I wished him success and promised secrecy. He is one of the obscure great men of our times._ I barely finished reading when Pilon's footsteps sounded outside. I closed the book quickly and greeted him when he entered. The jeep was ready, he said, and wished me a pleasant and safe trip to Katanga. The jeep was just starting off when a native ran up, shouting that Bwana Pilon wanted to see the driver. I sat in the car, waiting uneasily, remembering that I hadn't slipped the ledger back in place; I hoped Pilon hadn't noticed. Fifteen minutes went by. I climbed out of the jeep and went in search of the driver, who was sitting in Pilon's tent, regarding his watch from time to time. "Doctor Pilon asked me to wait here for twenty minutes before going," the driver explained. "He said something about he might have a package." My eyes wandered to the corner table. I drew a deep breath. The ledger was gone. "I guess we can go now, sir." The driver left the tent. I followed him and got into the jeep with a growing foreboding. The sun was low in the sky, fading rays dissolving into twilight. I hunched low in my seat, the flesh creeping on the back of my neck as if a gun was sighted on it. Now that Pilon knew I had read his diary, there was good chance he might try to keep me from getting back alive to Katanga. With the ruthlessness of the fanatic Pilon might feel he owed that much to "the great man" Chetzisky. A mile from camp the trail broke out of the jungle onto a swaying suspension bridge across a deep gorge. The driver inched the jeep across. Looking down I felt nauseous; a fall and a man was a shredded pulp. Half way across the span it happened. A rifle cracked. The air whined at my ear. The driver slumped stupidly against me and the jeep swerved crazily out of control. I leaped out on the bridge just as the jeep dropped into the gorge. I ran a few yards and hurled myself to the boards; a bullet whistled over me. I was on my feet again. Another shot rang over. I thanked God for the sway of the bridge; it put the crimp in anyone's marksmanship. I disappeared into the shelter of the jungle on the other side. The battle was joined; it was Pilon's life or mine. He couldn't let me live, and I couldn't let him. If I got away, he would get in touch with Chetzisky who probably wouldn't wait till the deadline to pull the switch. * * * * *