“It’s a thought,” he said, hoping the remark would pass for executive stubbornness. “Maybe we overlooked something.” “Maybe we _didn’t_,” growled Frescura. “The thinnest skin we can make will hold a piece of matter at a hundred thousand degrees for ten minutes. If we make it two inches thick it will last twenty-nine minutes and fourteen seconds. Constructed out of this a liner that would do us any good would be a quarter mile in diameter at its widest section. Is that practical?” “You might look into it again. You may have some new ideas,” said Talbot. He had avoided stumbling badly--and he’d learned something, although he should have known it in advance. The thermal bomb had been made in the plant. He looked up quickly. “Just when did the technicians arrive that morning? How many were in early?” “I went over that,” said Frescura. “So did plant protection. At least fifty men were asked in ahead of their shift. Several came in without being asked. But none of them were near your office.” It was puzzling and significant. Soleri had been in charge for years with no attempt on his life _until he, Talbot, had been brought in_. Talbot filed the fact away for future reference. Someone had known Talbot was going to come in that morning. Soleri had made it plain that Randy knew. But who else? Whom besides Randy had Soleri talked to? He couldn’t ask, but it was of vital importance. Whoever it was he had carefully manufactured the bomb in the laboratory, calculating the time by the thickness of the skin. That somebody had stuffed the capsule in his pocket and gone to Soleri’s office. When only a few seconds remained, he had rolled it through the door, giving himself just enough time to escape. But who was he? Talbot had no idea. He discussed the thermal bomb for a moment or two and then switched to the progress on the motor. He listened to Frescura, who was more than willing to talk. Soon, unless he could slide out of the invitation, he was going to have to answer some far more pointed questions from Taft. Still discussing high, very high, and stellar temperature chemistry, they went into the main experimental shop. This gave Talbot the opportunity of meeting the men he was supposed to have worked with for several years. There was a great difference between a picture and a page of statistics--even psychologically loaded statistics--and the man himself. He did a creditable job of imitating Soleri as he spoke to them. He had gone a long way toward merging with the dead man’s personality. But there was always an incalculable risk involved in anything he might say or do. Frescura stopped expectantly beside a large construction site enclosure. “This is the latest,” he said in a hushed voice. Talbot looked at the work in progress critically. He was still at sea as to its more technical aspects. “Is this the project we were working on before the accident?” he asked.