"Mr. Ross, I believe?" he murmured, eyes asparkle. His face was set in a peculiar way that made him appear on the verge of smiling. Ross' features stayed wooden. "My name's Thigpen." "It is?" The adjudicator chuckled, gestured. "Corrack, is this our old friend Tornelescu's helper, Lewis Thigpen?" A snort from the man with the blaster. "Not even in the dark, he ain't Thigpen." "You see, Ross?" Mawson spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Corrack grew up in the same colony with Thigpen. He knows him intimately--drank kabat with him less than an Earth week ago, as a matter of fact. So there's really no point to your trying to continue the imposture." Ross shrugged, not speaking. Mawson said, "On the other side of it, I've succeeded in learning your real identity, though it cost me no small expense: you're Stewart Ross, and you hold the rank of special agent with Security. You're twenty-eight years old. You came from Earth, originally. Your most recent assignment was breaking up a theol ring on Titan. You've also dealt with the starak traffic, and with kabatol derivatives in the Uranian satellite system. Your luck has been so spectacular as to indicate real ability, and in consequence your superiors--even including the famous Commandant Padora--have marked you for special attention and advancement." A pause. Mawson's fingers drummed on his chair-arm. "That's why I'm here, Ross: because I've learned your identity; because I know the kind of man you are." "Oh?" Ross' tone was flat and noncommittal. "Yes." The adjudicator gave strong positive emphasis to the word. He leaned forward. "You see, Ross, I overstepped myself on this life catalyst venture. Badly." Ross' eyes narrowed, just a fraction. "In any case," Mawson went on coolly, "I finally find myself in a position where I have no choice but to make a deal with you ... a very special sort of deal, one I wouldn't chance with anyone less reliable and trustworthy." Ross frowned. "I don't follow you, Mawson." It was the other's turn to shrug. "It's very simple really, Mr. Ross. My own age, the sense of years creeping upon me, prejudiced my judgment. So, thinking you were Thigpen, I sent Cheng to Venus to run you down." The adjudicator shook his head sadly. "It was an error, Mr. Ross--a grievous error. Guile's my forte; I never should have turned to violence." "I'll agree with you there," Ross nodded, "but I still don't see how this concerns me." "Don't bait me, Mr. Ross!" the other snapped back. "That first episode tipped my hand to Cheng, and to Veta Hall, and to Veta's brother, Sanford. The next thing I knew, even Zoltan Prenzz, Security's resident undercover agent on Japetus, was aware of what was going on. "That meant I had to kill him. So, I sent one of my men to inject him with a dose of the catalyst--a dose from a bad batch my people found in Tornelescu's laboratory when they cut his throat and made off with the formula to begin with.