“What was it?”
“A pencil mark drawn between two leads. It — ”
“I get you, a carbon short. Sabotage, all right. Well?”
“My point is, he found it too easily. How would he know right where to find it if he didn’t do it himself?”
Barnes thought about it. “If Traub is trying to stop us, all he has to do is to refuse to go. We can’t go without him-and he knows it.”
“Suppose his object was not just to stop us, but to wreck the ship?”
“And kill himself in the bargain? Be logical, Red.”
“Some of those people are fanatics, Jim. Beyond logic.”
Barnes considered it. “Forget it, Red.”
“But — ”
“I said, ‘Forget it!’ Get on back in that ship and prowl around. Imagine that you are a saboteur, try to think where you would hide a bomb-or what you would wreck.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Good. Mannie!”
“Yes, Mr. Barnes.” Traub trotted up; Barnes told him to go up and continue checking. The phone at the foot of the crane rang; it was Styles again.
“Boss? Just got a call from the pass gate. The deputy there is hooked by car radio with the deputies at the road blocks — ”
“Good. Nice organizing, Herb.”
“Not good! The north road black reports a car with a bailiff; he has a federal court order to stop the takeoff. They let him through.”
Barnes swore softly. “Call, the pass gate. Tell the deputy there to stop him.”
“I did. He won’t. He says he can’t interfere with federal business.”
“That tears it!” Barnes stopped to think. “Tell him to make almighty sure that the man is what he says he is. Tell him that the court order is almost certainly phony-which it is. Tell him to hold the man while he gets in touch with the sheriff’s office and has the sheriff phone the judge who is supposed to have issued the described order.”
“I’ll try,” Styles answered, “but suppose the order is kosher, boss? Hadn’t I better just put the slug on him and dump him in a closet until the fireworks are over?”
Barnes weighed this. “No-you’d spend your life breaking rocks. Gain me all the minutes you can-then hightail it for the blockhouse. Is everybody clear?”
“Everybody but the car and driver for Mrs. Corley.”
“How about Admiral Bowles’ wife?”
“He sent her off earlier-the Admiral doesn’t like ships watched out of sight.”
“Bless his superstitious heart! Send Mrs. Corley’s car into the pen. I’m going to button up around here.”
“Roger!”
Barnes turned around to find Corley and Hastings descending. He waited, bursting with impatience. Corley spoke as they reached bottom. “Oh, Jim, I — ”
“Never mind! Is everything okay up there?”
“Yes, but — ”
“No time! Say good-bye to your wife, Doctor Hastings — good-bye, and thanks! Your plane’s waiting.”
“Jim,” protested Corley, “what’s the rush? It’s — ”
“No time!” A car swung in through the gate of the pen, came toward them. “There’s your wife. Say good-bye and get back here. Move!” Barnes turned away and went to the crane operator. “Barney!”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going up now-for the last time. As soon as we are off the crane, back it-away.– The safety stops are off the tracks?”
“Sure.”
“Off entirely, or just moved back?”
“Off entirely. Don’t worry; I won’t run her off the rails.”
“Yes, you will. Run the crane right off the end.” “Huh? Mr. Barnes, if I dropped the wheels into the sand, it would take a week to get her back on.”
“Check. That’s exactly what I want. After you do it, don’t stop to explain; just run for the blockhouse.”
The operator looked baffled. “Okay-you said it.”
Barnes came back to the elevator. Corley and his wife were standing near her car. She was crying.
Barnes shaded his eyes against the floodlights and tried to see the road to the pass gate. The foundry cut off his view. Suddenly headlights gleamed — around that building, turned onto the shop circle and came toward the bull pen entrance. Barnes shouted, “Doc! Now! Hurry!”
Corley looked up, then hastily embraced his wife. Barnes shouted, “Come on! Come on!”