"You're crazy. It's for security reasons. It's all hush-hush so it won't leak out like the atom bomb did. The big boys are being smart this time." "And you ain't getting on," the interrupted man repeated doggedly, "because there ain't a way in God's world to _get_ on. With triple security all around the building, just tell me a way to get in. Just tell me one." "I'm going to get on that ship," Joe Spain said. Then he clammed up suddenly. Joe Spain wasn't stupid. He was a talker, but he knew when to stop sounding off. The men went back to work shifting the big aluminum barrels from trucks into Building B. Carrying the wooden crates and the paper-wrapped parcels up the ramps and to the side of the building facing the big secret structure labeled A. They worked until five o'clock. Then they filed out and got into the waiting trucks and were hauled back to town; the boom town that had mushroomed up in the desert overnight and would die with the same swiftness when the project was completed. * * * * * Joe went straight to his rooming house, washed up, put on his good clothes, and found a stool in a nearby restaurant. He ate a leisurely supper, glancing now and again at the clock. When the clock read eight, he went out into the neon-stained darkness and walked three blocks to the Black Cat, one of the three night clubs the desert town boasted. He went to the bar and ordered a drink. He downed it slowly, carefully, after the manner of a man who wanted to stay sober. A half-hour passed before a thin, nervous individual elbowed to the bar and stood beside him. Joe said. "Hello, Nick. You been thinking it over?" "I need a drink." "Sure, Nick. Then we'll go some place and talk." But Nick got rid of five drinks while Joe protected his own glass from the barkeep. After a while, Joe said, "I'm willing to up the price, Nick. Two thousand--cash. All I got." "Le's get out o' here," Nick mumbled. They walked out of the town and into the desert, Nick stumbling now and again, to be supported by the tense, sober Joe. "Two thousand, Nick. You need the dough." "Sure. Need the dough. But it wouldn't work. Couldn't get you into one o' them barrels." "You wouldn't have to. All I ask is that you come along in the morning and seal me up in one. All you'll have to do is lock on the lid." "How you know the barrels are going on the ship?" "Never mind about that. I just know. I paid to find out." "Okay--suppose you do get on the ship in a barrel. Maybe it'll be stored in a hold somewhere. Maybe they wouldn't open it very soon. You'd die." "I got a way to get out. One of them special torches. The little ones. Aluminum isn't very strong. I can cut it like butter." "It'd be hot. You'd burn yourself." "Let me worry about that," Joe said fiercely. "You want the two grand or not?"