The only really adequate reply to those words would have been to punch the Prime Minister in the nose. Since this was out of the question, there was really nothing J could do except go along and have Leighton's activities watched. The Prime Minister was partly right. Watching over the Project's security meant more than looking for Russian spies and English embezzlers. It meant looking out for Richard Blade and looking after Lord Leighton.

So J gave his undercover man in Complex Two the appropriate orders and hoped the young man would know when to turn a blind eye. For a while it looked as if his hopes would be justified.

Then came the eager call describing Leighton's new studies of the computer's electrical field and what he might be planning to do with them. J listened politely until he could find an excuse for hanging up, then poured himself a whiskey so large that his doctor would have screamed in protest. He sat down with the whiskey in his hand, staring out at another dismally gray and rainy London afternoon.

He was going to have to act on this call, even if he thought the young man was jumping to conclusions. Leighton certainly seemed to have another bee in his bonnet. If the bee buzzed loudly enough, sooner or later the Prime Minister would hear it. Then there'd be questions asked, including why J hadn't informed the P.M. before.

Also, there was Richard Blade to think about. Leighton's brainstorms sometimes created new and unnecessary dangers for Richard. Even if the younger man hadn't been almost a son to J, the old spymaster would have had to protest at putting the Project's only reliable test subject in unnecessary danger.

The first thing to do, however, was call Richard himself. J drained the glass, went to the scrambled telephone in the corner, and began punching in Blade's number.

It took J quite awhile to reach Blade, because the younger man wasn't at home or even in London. He was in Hampshire, miles from the nearest telephone, looking at a country house he wanted to buy.