"I'll take that," he said shortly. I blew out smoke, squinted through it at Mallon. He sat with his hand out, waiting. I looked down at the lighter. It was a heavy windproof model, with embossed Aerospace wings. I turned it over. Engraved letters read: _Lieut. Commander Don G. Banner, USAF_. I looked up. Renada sat quietly, holding my pistol trained dead on my belt buckle. * * * * * "I'm sorry you saw that," Mallon said. "It could cause misunderstandings." "Where's Banner?" "He ... died. I told you--" "You told me a lot of things, Toby. Some of them might even be true. Did you make him the same offer you've made me?" Mallon darted a look at Renada. She sat holding the pistol, looking at me distantly, without expression. "You've got the wrong idea, Jackson--" Mallon started. "You and he came out about the same time," I said. "Or maybe you got the jump on him by a few days. It must have been close; otherwise you'd never have taken him. Don was a sharp boy." "You're out of your mind!" Mallon snapped. "Why, Banner was my friend!" "Then why do you get nervous when I find his lighter on your table? There could be ten perfectly harmless explanations." "I don't make explanations," Mallon said flatly. "That attitude is hardly the basis for a lasting partnership, Toby. I have an unhappy feeling there's something you're not telling me." Mallon pulled himself up in the chair. "Look here, Jackson. We've no reason to fall out. There's plenty for both of us--and one day I'll be needing a successor. It was too bad about Banner, but that's ancient history now. Forget it. I want you with me, Jackson! Together we can rule the Atlantic seaboard--or even more!" I drew on my cigar, looking at the gun in Renada's hand. "You hold the aces, Toby. Shooting me would be no trick at all." "There's no trick involved, Jackson!" Mallon snapped. "After all," he went on, almost wheedling now, "we're old friends. I want to give you a break, share with you--" "I don't think I'd trust him if I were you, Mr. Jackson," Renada's quiet voice cut in. I looked at her. She looked back calmly. "You're more important to him than you think." "That's enough, Renada," Mallon barked. "Go to your room at once." "Not just yet, Toby," she said. "I'm also curious about how Commander Banner died." I looked at the gun in her hand. It wasn't pointed at me now. It was aimed at Mallon's chest. * * * * * Mallon sat sunk deep in his chair, looking at me with eyes like a python with a bellyache. "You're fools, both of you," he grated. "I gave you everything, Renada. I raised you like my own daughter. And you, Jackson. You could have shared with me--all of it." "I don't need a share of your delusions, Toby. I've got a set of my own. But before we go any farther, let's clear up a few points. Why haven't you been getting any mileage out of your tame Bolo? And what makes me important in the picture?"