"Yes. I didn't catch his name...."

"It's Cutler. He's an Army major; Central Intelligence. His crowd's
interested in whether you had any real advance information on this. He
was in to see me, just a while ago. I have the impression he'd like to
see this whole thing played down, so he'll be on our side, more or
less and for the time being. I'll be around to your place about eight;
in the meantime, don't do any more talking than you have to. I hope we
can get this straightened out, this evening. I'll have to go to Reno
in a day or so to see a client there...."

* * * * *

The meeting in Whitburn's office had been set for eight-thirty; Weill
saw to it that they arrived exactly on time. As they got out of his
car at Administration Center and crossed to the steps, Chalmers had
the feeling of going to a duel, accompanied by his second. The
briefcase Weill was carrying may have given him the idea; it was flat
and square-cornered, the size and shape of an old case of dueling
pistols. He commented on it.

"Sound recorder," Weill said. "Loaded with a four-hour spool. No
matter how long this thing lasts, I'll have a record of it, if I want
to produce one in court."

Another party was arriving at the same time--the two Psionics and
Parapsychology people and the Intelligence major, who seemed to have
formed a working partnership. They all entered together, after a brief
and guardedly polite exchange of greetings. There were voices raised
in argument inside when they came to Whitburn's office. The college