"It better not be," Armstrong said tersely. "You better get going, Arnold. I'll keep in touch with you by radio from Burns Lake." * * * * * Outside the Major's office I almost collided with a code clerk hurrying in with a message. I thought nothing of it till I was on the street climbing into the car that would take me to the airport and a voice called sharply after me. "Sir, Major Burley wishes to see you in his office right away." I went back upstairs, cold with foreboding, suddenly recalling the excited look on the code clerk's face. Armstrong was standing by the window, looking disconsolate, when I entered. The Canadian said nothing but handed me a decoded message. ATTENTION CANADIAN INTELLIGENCE: COLONEL ARMSTRONG SUSPENDED FROM FURTHER DUTIES FOR OVERSTEPPING HIS AUTHORITY. WILL REPORT BACK TO WASHINGTON AT ONCE TO FACE CHARGES. "Now," explained Major Burley sternly, "you will understand why I must cancel your plans, sir." I blew sky-high. "Go ahead. Let the world blow up behind their stuffed-shirtism and quintuplicate file copies and pedantic memos and see how well that will protect them when the earth goes 'puff'." The Major stared at me in frank bewilderment. This "puff" business was something entirely new to him. I felt a strong grip on my arm. "Easy, Arnold," Armstrong was saying, a warning look in his eyes. "This is one moment when we have to keep our heads, or more than just us will lose them. Hold tight here for a day. Washington probably got Disney's report on your trip to the Congo. I think I can talk my way out of the mess. If I don't," he shrugged hopelessly, "it's all up to you." * * * * * All next day I sweated for a word from Armstrong. About five o'clock a call came from one of his friends in Washington. He was under house arrest but still striving desperately to wake the government up to Chetzisky's threat. I drink lightly but if at that moment I had a bottle I would have emptied it at one swift sitting. Instead, I took an ice cold shower to calm myself. Half-way through the shower I ran out and picked up the phone to put in a long-distance call. I had an idea. Nevil Oxford answered. I poured out my story. His voice shook as he talked with me. I had him on the ropes and I kept pouring it on. The earth had only six days to live unless the nation did something about it. We were just a stone's throw, so to speak, from catching up with Chetzisky. What was needed was to rouse public opinion and force the complacent hand of the swivel-chair bureaucrat. As a crusher I told him that the world-wide radioactive count had gone up five roentgens. If only he knew how absurd that was ... but it turned the trick. "All right, Arnold, I'll go on the air tonight with the story," he said wearily with the tone of a man acquiescing in an inevitable surrender.