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“You’re an engineer, Mr. Bending,” Condley said, in the same low voice. “You have been trained to evaluate facts. All I ask is that you use that training. Now, let’s get in there before Tovarishch Artomonov begins to think we might be stalling him.”

Condley strode toward the door and grasped the knob with a firm hand. Sam Bending followed, wondering. Artomonov? Who was Artomonov? The Secretary of Economics had indicated, by his precise enunciation of tovarishch, that the man was a Russian–or at least a citizen of one of the Soviet satellites. Sam Bending took a deep breath and decided that he was prepared for almost anything.

There were four men seated around the conference table in the back room, and the most surprising thing, as far as Sam was concerned, was that he recognized only one of them. From the big buildup, he had had half a notion that the President himself might be there.

“Mr. Samson Bending, gentlemen,” said Secretary Condley to the group. They all rose and made half-hearted attempts to smile, but Sam could see that they were watching him as though he had a live grenade in his pocket.

“Mr. Bending, I believe you know Mr. Richard Olcott,” the Secretary said.

Bending gave the Power Utilities executive a sardonic smile, which was returned by a solemn nod of the head.

Sure I know you, you crook, Bending thought.

“And, around the table,” Condley continued, “are Dr. Edward Larchmont, the research departmental head of Power Utilities–Dr. Stefan Vanderlin, of the United States Bureau of Standards–and Dr. Alexis Andreevich Artomonov, of the Soviet Socialist Republics’ representative office at the United Nations.”

Sam Bending managed not to blink in astonishment as the last man was introduced–a feat which took every milligram of his self-possession. He recognized the name; A. A. Artomonov, head of the United Nation’s International Trade Bureau. What was he doing here?

“If you’ll sit down, Mr. Bending,” Condley was saying, “we can get to business.”

Bending sat down, and the others sat with him. “May I say something before we go any further?” Sam Bending asked. “May I say that I think this is a rather irregular method of doing things and that I think I ought to see my lawyer.”

Secretary Condley’s eyes narrowed just the slightest. He was a heavy, jowl-faced, graying man who was known for his firmness in his official capacity. “At this stage of the game, Mr. Bending, there is no need for a lawyer. We merely want to explain something to you–we want you to get all the data. If, afterwards, you still want your lawyer, you’ll be perfectly free to call him. Right now, we want you to listen with an open mind.”

Bending thought it over. “All right. Go ahead.”

* * * * *

“Very well. First, I’ll agree that all this may seem a bit high-handed. But time was–and is–getting short.” He glanced at Olcott, and the glance was not all friendliness. “The Government was notified about this almost too late; we have had to act fast. Almost too fast.”

“I notified the Government as soon as I was sure of my facts,” Olcott said, completely unflustered.

“That’s as may be,” Condley said. “The point is that we now have the problem on our hands, and we must find an equitable solution.” He took a gold fountain pen from his pocket, and his strong, thick fingers began toying with it while his eyes remained on Sam Bending. “The fact that you have applied for a patent makes it imperative that we get the situation under control immediately.”

Before Sam could answer, there was a knock on the outer door that came clearly into the rear room. Secretary Condley rose without saying a word and went out.

Dr. Larchmont, the Power Utilities physicist, decided to make small talk to bridge the hiatus. “That’s a really beautiful piece of machinery you’ve built, Mr. Bending. Really remarkable.” He was a small, flat-faced man with a fringe of dark hair around his otherwise naked scalp.