The job he had to do in Number Two kept him busy until well after fourteen hundred, as he intended it should. He didn't want to get there early, but he wanted to have a good excuse for being late. He actually walked into the monitor room for Number Nine Production Tunnel at fifteen-twenty. The Space Force officers were gathered around the screen watching the unit take shape under the deft, mindless fingers of the waldoes. The weird blue glow of radioactivity obscured the finer details a little, but the operation was worth watching. Major Stratford turned as he came in. "Hello, Mr. Crayley. I thought you were down below with Mr. Klythe." Crayley stroked his mustache and smiled a little. "I had some work to do," he said apologetically. "I didn't get through until a few minutes ago. I figured this would be as good a place to watch from as down below." Stratford grinned. "I suppose so. One screen is as good as another." They watched. Stratford introduced him around to the other Space Force officers, including a short little man with nervous eyes named Colonel Green who was evidently Stratford's superior. Then everything became silent as they watched the generator being built. Crayley smiled inwardly as he saw that the hulking generator had already blocked off the view of the one waldo he'd gimmicked. No one would be able to see what happened on the screen, and those who saw it directly wouldn't tell anyone. Exultant, Crayley watched the screen through the mask of his face. Very shortly, he would again be Director. When Klythe had gone to Denver to take the Big Gamble, he'd left Crayley as Acting Director, with the stipulation that he was to become Permanent Director if Klythe failed to live through the grueling torture of the Rejuvenation chambers. Naturally, Crayley had had every right to feel that the position was already his. He had never considered that Klythe might be one of those few who would live through the Big Gamble. Even when Klythe had come back, Crayley hadn't immediately considered him as a block in his path; there was always the chance of the Breakdown. Sometimes something went wrong with Rejuvenation, even when the patient lived through the year. Instead of being better than normal, the body went out of kilter. Some little thing, probably--they hadn't pinpointed it yet. A gland that malfunctioned, a nerve blockage, something. Whatever it was, the rejuvenee suddenly began to age rapidly after a few months, dying of acute senility within the year. But when a year had passed and Berin Klythe was as healthy as ever, Lewis Crayley had begun to plot murder. And now the plans had matured; soon they would bear fruit. Soon he would be Director--_Permanent_ Director. As Director, it would be easy to erase the end of that tape before anyone else got their hands on it. He, himself, would be the one to head the investigation of the accident. Crayley watched the assembly impatiently from behind his face.