«Well, Richard, what do you say to the notion?»

Blade straightened slightly in the Chippendale chair and raised his eyes from his empty plate to J's elegantly wrinkled face.

«I'll be more than willing to help, sir. I think it's a damned good idea, getting a training center set up beforehand. I hope the PM will swallow it.»

«He won't have to,» put in Lord Leighton, his eyes gleaming wickedly like those of an old billy goat. «We pulled the entire purchase price out of the Contingency Fund. He won't know a thing about it until after the deed is signed, sealed, and delivered.»

«To be sure,» said J dryly. His eyes met Blade's for a moment. Both knew there was little love lost between Lord Leighton and the Prime Minister. The scientific genius and the hardheaded practical politician had come into head-on collision more than once. «But the bill for fitting the place out as a training center and office annex is going to be more than the Contingency Fund can provide. That's why I want Richard's help. He's our one and only Dimension X veteran. He can sit down with the headshrinkers and the training technicians and give them some notion of what to train the new people for. Otherwise they'll simply be guessing. And we're going to have to give the PM a complete presentation and an accurate one, with a list of gear and a budget.

Otherwise I can't imagine he'll play. He'll say it's another of your wild-goose chases, Leighton.»

The scientist ran his gnarled fingers through his fringes of white hair and shook his head. «That's all very well, J. But you can't have Richard now. The computer is all set up with a new program. I was planning to ask him to report tomorrow afternoon.»

There was no need for Leighton to say what he wanted Blade to report for. Blade felt a quickening of his breath and for a moment his mouth was so dry that he was not sure he could speak. He was going into Dimension X again-on his fifteenth trip, this time. How many more, he wondered, before one of the people to be trained at this new center replaced him-or his luck ran out? For a moment his vision blurred. The little private dining room, the dark paneling, the white tablecloth, the red wine in the crystal glasses-all seemed to be things from a dream.