There was a slight bend to the highway just before it entered the village. When the procession passed this point, they would see a group of men disperse quickly into the low scrub at the side of the road. This would put them on their guard, they would be apprehensive, watching. When the procession had entered the village itself and was within the short commercial strip, there would be an explosion back of them. Grenades, perhaps some shooting. If Wolf's prediction were accurate, this would divert the attention of at least the major portion of guards for long enough. Long enough for the five men in the crowd to do what they had to do-- "This must be timed perfectly," he told the man who was to head the diversionary squad. "I understand that." "Too soon or too late, either will destroy us. It will take us too long to reach the Administrator. He must be exactly opposite the tailor's shop. It must be done right." "It will be done right." "If it is not, all the sacrifices are for nothing, you understand that? The consequences will be as bad, or worse, for the village, and we will have accomplished nothing. If the Administrator is dead, there will be time for most of the villagers to escape into the hills before the Federation can take action against them." The man left, after Wolf had provided him with the weapons his group would need from his cache on the nearby hillside. The dependable five were instructed in their parts, and then there was nothing to do but wait. The next morning dawned clear. The air was cool, a slight breeze ruffled the fields around the village. As the sun rose higher in the sky, it glinted sharply from the towers of Thanlar. It had been impossible to keep the entire operation a secret from the villagers. They knew something was to happen, and they knew it concerned the inspection trip of Mayne Landing to the village. It was not hard to guess what it was. As the day drew on toward noon, the tension of the people grew. Small knots of farmers gathered on the corners, their fields forgotten for the day, talking low. Wolf didn't like it, it was too obvious. The village was primed, ready to explode, and he was afraid the tension would make the guards _too_ alert. They had to be just tense enough to respond to the diversion, not enough so they would be watching _everywhere_. He was counting on an instinctive, rapid response. He sat behind the tailor shop, talking to his men with a confidence and calm he did not feel. He spoke as if the success of the mission were a foregone fact, and the escape of the villagers into the hills. But he knew it was tenuous. Perhaps he had planned it too critically. Perhaps a simple direct attack would have been better. Perhaps, perhaps-- Any number of things were possible, he thought. But it was done now. If he had made a mistake, they would know soon.