"Barwan's slipped through our fingers again," the man said bitterly. Ruscar frowned at him. "Actually, you're jumping to conclusions concerning Tedor. He's a good man, one of the best Agents we've got." "That's just it, Chief. That's exactly it. He's been so well indoctrinated in Agenting, he'll never play along with us." "No. Who do you think it was who indoctrinated Tedor? I did. I believed that way myself, you know. If I changed my mind, perhaps I can change Tedor's. I'd certainly like to, because we can use Tedor. "Well, you can take this Dorlup thing from here. The girl has had an unfortunate accident. She's dead. But we have her statement, and it should hold up in a court of law." "Dead!" Dorlup cried, not understanding what was going on. "Take him out of here," Ruscar said, and someone removed Dorlup from the room. "Now, then," Ruscar continued. "Return to our century with him. Press charges. Make an astonishing revelation, as it were. We doubted the existence of a monopolist of despotism, but we're not infallible. We were wrong. Dorlup is the monopolist, and we have proof." "Poor Dorlup." "One of those things. We needed a scapegoat, because too many people were beginning to demand action regarding Domique Hadrien's claims. Too bad we couldn't stick it on Hadrien himself; that would be taking care of two things at once. "About Barwan, tell Sertant to forget it. If Barwan's on his way to Moscow, then we can only assume he's thrown in completely with Domique Hadrien and his followers. That doesn't mean it's irrevocable, for I'm going to Moscow myself. I'd like to have Barwan with us, as you know. If not--well, no one man is indispensable." In the next room, meanwhile, Dorlup was fuming. His whole orientation toward what had happened had been drastically altered in the last few moments. It was not a mistake, hardly a mistake at all. A plot? A plot, decidedly. Dorlup was being used as--what was the 20th century term he had picked up?--as a fall guy. He'd have none of it. Not Dorlup. At first he hardly knew how to straighten it out, but if Ruscar wouldn't help--he had counted on Ruscar and now it seemed Ruscar was behind everything--then Dorlup had only one place to turn. He smiled grimly. After what had happened at the Eradrome, he never thought he'd go to Tedor Barwan for anything. The guard kept one eye on Dorlup, and at the same time tried to listen, through a partially opened door to the conservation in the next room. Dorlup picked up a chair when he was convinced all the guard's attentions were centered on the other room. He swung the chair like a four-stemmed club, shattering it over the guard's head. Feet pounded in the next room, but Dorlup was on his way out.