Stacy tried to respond, but nothing he said seemed adequate. Helga was right. He had not performed.

The old German heard Stacy storm out of the tent and start wandering around in the dark outside. Then Webenhaus heard his young associate Start toward his tent.

He hastily scrawled the name of the lemony man he had known for many years onto an envelope, stuffed his

partly written letter inside, and inserted both into the packet that contained his report to the company. Then he opened his thick copy of Modern Ideas in the Chess Opening and began setting up the chessmen for opening variation 1066 of the Sicilian Defense.

Webenhaus's tent flap parted, and Roger Stacy stooped in through the opening. He was tall and lean with thick black eyebrows and a strong mouth. He moved with an easy grace.

"Well, you old tub, you have succeeded."

Webenhaus took his time looking up from the chessboard. The two men's eyes locked for a long moment before Webenhaus responded with just a nod of his head.

A little glint of hate flashed in Stacy's eyes. "Have you written your report to the company?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Have you signed it? With your own name?"

Webenhaus answered immediately, without hesitation. "I signed it with all our names. Yours, mine, and Helga's. We are a team."

"Good," Stacy said. "That saves me the trouble of having to write it over again under my own name." He paused. "It's a pity you're not going to live to enjoy your success."

Webenhaus looked down at the board and hesitated for several seconds before moving his black queen's bishop.