There was some fault in calling from a pay-phone, of course--and a Long Distance call on a rural pay-phone at that. Neither Long Distance calls nor pay-phones nor rural phones had the new videophone accessories. Videophones, involving two-way television transmission via a camera-screen installation, were still in the development stage. Metropolitan and suburban phones had the video screens. Long Distance coaxial transmission was still too costly to merit the installation of the screens on rural phones--which also ruled out Long Distance video calls. To install the screens in pay-phones would, as yet, triple the cost of the calls. Naturally, the Sacramento operator would inform Foster this was a Long Distance call; Foster's screen would remain blank. The gas station's pay-phone had no screen. This was a disadvantage to Morrow: not seeing Foster's face, he wouldn't be absolutely certain he was speaking to Foster. He'd have to rely on his memory of Foster's voice, and it had been more than two years since he'd met Foster. Positive identification could be important. Morrow kicked himself mentally for not making a local call to Foster's home while he was in Sacramento. Suppose Foster had moved in the past two years? Suppose there was some sort of slip-up that aroused someone's suspicions just enough to start the authorities on an investigation-- Even the _slightest_ mistake might finish them! And the call had to be made. Their plan was set for tonight, Saturday night, because Foster was most likely to be home from work--research engineers often worked late hours on weekdays--and because he'd probably have the next day off. They had to get Foster out for that one day, and it had to be done right. But they had to be certain that Foster was home when they went after him. The receiver continued its rattling noise in his ear as Morrow waited, fidgeting impatiently, and the seconds crawled past. The rattling ended with a faint click. "_Hello?_" Morrow exhaled a shuddery sigh of relief. He recognized Foster's characteristic deep, muffled tones almost at once. "Hi, Bob. This is Bill Morrow--" "_Morrow? Well, hi yourself! Where you calling from?_" "I'm on the highway," Morrow said. "I'm on my way north and wondered if I might drop in as I pass through Sacramento--I ought to be there in a few hours. You going to be home?" "_Ye-e-es. C'mon around, by all means! You still have my home address, haven't you?_" "Sure thing. How've you been?" "_So-so, between drawing curves on flight-test characteristics and pounding out stories. You written anything lately?_" "I've been a little too busy to give it much thought," Morrow answered truthfully. "_Uh huh! Well--say, you going to be in 'Frisco for next year's science-fiction convention?_" Morrow grinned. "'Sa little too early to say, yet. I'll see you in a few hours, then, huh?" "_Right-o! We'll have the beer on ice!_" * * * * *