"You told me what Stoner and Black would do to us," Tugwell said, intensely. "What I'm afraid of is that they'll do it to you." "They can't. Not a chance in the world," Kinnison assured him. "You fellows are young--not established. But I'm well-enough known in my own field so that if they tried to black-ball me they'd just get themselves laughed at, and they know it. So beat it back to the Nine, you kids, and hang red tickets on everything that doesn't cross-section up to standard. Tell the gang goodbye for me--I'll keep you posted." In less than an hour Kinnison was called into the Office of the President. He was completely at ease; Black was not. "It has been decided to ... uh ... ask for your resignation," the President announced at last. "Save your breath," Kinnison advised. "I came down here to do a job, and the only way you can keep me from doing that job is to fire me." "That was not ... uh ... entirely unexpected. A difficulty arose, however, in deciding what reason to put on your termination papers." "I can well believe that. You can put down anything you like," Kinnison shrugged, "with one exception. Any implication of incompetence and you'll have to prove it in court." "Incompatibility, say?" "O.K." "Miss Briggs--'Incompatibility with the highest echelon of Stoner and Black, Inc.,' please. You may as well wait, Dr. Kinnison; it will take only a moment." "Fine. I've got a couple of things to say. First, I know as well as you do that you're between Scylla and Charybdis--damned if you do and damned if you don't." "Certainly not! Ridiculous!" Black blustered, but his eyes wavered. "Where did you get such a preposterous idea? What do you mean?" "If you ram those sub-standard H.E.A.T. shell through, you are going to have some more prematures. Not many--the stuff is actually almost good enough--one in ten thousand, say: perhaps one in fifty thousand. But you know damned well that you can't afford _any_. What my Siberians and Inspectors know about you and Keller and Piddy and the Nine Line would be enough; but to cap the climax that brainless jackal of yours let the cat completely out of the bag this afternoon, and everybody in Building One was listening. One more premature would blow Entwhistle wide open--would start something that not all the politicians in Washington could stop. On the other hand, if you scrap those lots and go back to pouring good loads, your Mr. Stoner, of New York and Washington, will be very unhappy and will scream bloody murder. I'm sure, however, that you won't offer any Plate D loads to Ordnance--in view of the temper of my boys and girls, and the number of people who heard your dumb stooge give you away, you won't dare to. In fact, I told some of my people that you wouldn't; that you are a smart enough operator to keep your nose clean." "You _told_ them!" Black shouted, in anger and dismay.