"Good." Reinhart locked his hands, knotting his fingers harshly together in sudden decision. "That will do exactly. Unless I am completely wrong, Sherikov has only a half-dozen air units and no surface cars. And only about two hundred men. Some defense shields, of course--" "What are you planning?" Reinhart's face was gray and hard, like stone. "Send out orders for all available Security units to be unified under your immediate command. Have them ready to move by four o'clock this afternoon. We're going to pay a visit," Reinhart stated grimly. "A surprise visit. On Peter Sherikov." * * * * * "Stop here," Reinhart ordered. The surface car slowed to a halt. Reinhart peered cautiously out, studying the horizon ahead. On all sides a desert of scrub grass and sand stretched out. Nothing moved or stirred. To the right the grass and sand rose up to form immense peaks, a range of mountains without end, disappearing finally into the distance. The Urals. "Over there," Reinhart said to Dixon, pointing. "See?" "No." "Look hard. It's difficult to spot unless you know what to look for. Vertical pipes. Some kind of vent. Or periscopes." Dixon saw them finally. "I would have driven past without noticing." "It's well concealed. The main labs are a mile down. Under the range itself. It's virtually impregnable. Sherikov had it built years ago, to withstand any attack. From the air, by surface cars, bombs, missiles--" "He must feel safe down there." "No doubt." Reinhart gazed up at the sky. A few faint black dots could be seen, moving lazily about, in broad circles. "Those aren't ours, are they? I gave orders--" "No. They're not ours. All our units are out of sight. Those belong to Sherikov. His patrol." Reinhart relaxed. "Good." He reached over and flicked on the vidscreen over the board of the car. "This screen is shielded? It can't be traced?" "There's no way they can spot it back to us. It's non-directional." The screen glowed into life. Reinhart punched the combination keys and sat back to wait. After a time an image formed on the screen. A heavy face, bushy black beard and large eyes. Peter Sherikov gazed at Reinhart with surprised curiosity. "Commissioner! Where are you calling from? What--" "How's the work progressing?" Reinhart broke in coldly. "Is Icarus almost complete?" Sherikov beamed with expansive pride. "He's done, Commissioner. Two days ahead of time. Icarus is ready to be launched into space. I tried to call your office, but they told me--" "I'm not at my office." Reinhart leaned toward the screen. "Open your entrance tunnel at the surface. You're about to receive visitors." Sherikov blinked. "Visitors?" "I'm coming down to see you. About Icarus. Have the tunnel opened for me at once." "Exactly where are you, Commissioner?" "On the surface." Sherikov's eyes flickered. "Oh? But--"