He returned to his own office and paced in a fury for five minutes. "It's no use," he muttered. "I know I'll have to kill him. He won't accept merger. Why should he? He's licked me and he knows it. I'll have to kill him and I'll need help. Peeper help."
He flipped on the v-phone and told the operator; "Recreation."
A sparkling lounge appeared on the screen, decorated in chrome and enamel, equipped with game tables and a bar dispenser. It appeared to be and was used as a recreation center. It was, in fact, headquarters of Monarch's powerful espionage division. The Recreation Director, a bearded scholar named West, looked up from a chess problem, then rose to attention.
"Good morning, Mr. Reich." Warned by the formal `Mister,' Reich said: "Good morning, Mr. West.
Just a routine check. Paternalism, you know. How's amusement these days?"
"Modulated, Mr. Reich. However, I must complain, sir. I think there's entirely too much gambling going on." West stalled in a fussy voice until two bona fide Monarch clerks innocently finished their drinks and departed. Then he relaxed and slumped into his chair. "All clear, Ben. Shoot."
"Has Hassop broken the confidential code yet, Ellery?" The peeper shook his head. "Trying?" West smiled and nodded. "Where's D'Courtney?" "En route to Terra, aboard the `Astra'." "Know his plans? Where he'll be staying?" "No. Want a check?" "I don't know. It depends..." "Depends on what?" West glanced at him curiously. "I wish the
Telepathic Pattern could be transmitted by phone, Ben. I'd like to know what you're thinking at." Reich smiled grimly. "Thank God for the phone. At least we've got that
protection from mind readers.