The number shown was BArwick 3-7156. BA on the dial would be the same as "2, 2." "Come on! Quit stalling!" the man said threateningly. "How can I dial with my hands tied?" Tom objected. "I'll do the dialing, wise guy!" He lifted the phone from its cradle and extended it to his prisoner. Tom told him the Enterprises number, then asked for Ames's extension as the switchboard operator answered. A moment later the security chief's voice came over the line. "Ames speaking." "This is Tom Jr., Harlan." His captor bent close to the receiver as Tom replied, in order to overhear what was being said. "I've been thinking," the young inventor went on, "that it might be smart to have Mirov released." "_Released!_" Ames gasped in surprise. "But why, skipper?" "Well ... er ... as a good-will gesture," Tom said. "I think it might prevent future trouble with the Brungarians, don't you?" "I do not!" Ames exploded. "The idea sounds crazy!" "I don't think it's _too_ crazy or _too_ risky," Tom argued. By emphasizing the words, he hoped to impress them on Ames's mind. [Illustration: _"Come on! Quit stalling," the man threatened_] Tom's tone of voice and the farfetched nature of what he was saying had already triggered the security chief's suspicions. "Where are you calling from?" Ames asked after a tense pause. "Shopton," Tom replied. "I just drove in for a haircut." With a chuckle, he added, "Haven't had one in _three_ months. That's a whole _week_ longer than I usually go!" Would Ames understand that by "week" he meant _seven_ days?... "_It's the best I can do_," Tom thought. "Look, skipper, are you sure you want Mirov let out?" Ames said slowly. "I still think it's unwise." "Consider it an order!" Tom snapped. "This is _one_ thing I insist upon, Harlan. Shouldn't take more than _five_ or _six_ hours, should it, even if he has to wire the Brungarian Embassy to put up bail?" "It can probably be handled faster than that--if he has any friends around town," Ames said. Tom took the cue. "Could be," he replied meaningfully. Tom's captor snatched the phone away and slammed it back on the hook. "All right, smart boy! That's enough!" he growled, glaring at Tom. Back at Enterprises, Ames hung up thoughtfully. Tom's reply to his last question about Mirov having "friends around town" had convinced Ames that the young inventor was a prisoner, speaking under duress. Moreover, it had seemed as if someone else's breathing was faintly audible in the background, close to the phone. _But what message had Tom tried to convey?_ As a routine security-department precaution, Ames's phone was connected to a recorder which automatically taped all calls. Now, while he pondered the problem, Ames pressed a foot-treadle switch to play back the conversation. Meanwhile, Tom and his captor waited tensely. From time to time the latter glanced at his watch. "Better hope that call does the trick, Swift," he muttered. "It's the only hope you got of leavin' here alive!"