Benteley listened to the television between conversations, his mind on only half of what Laura and Al were saying.
"... Quizmaster Cartwright has announced the dismissal of two hundred Directorate employees," the announcer was saying. "The reason given is b.s.r."
"Bad security risk," Laura murmured. "That's what they always say."
"... Convention plans are booming. Applications are flooding the Convention Board and the Westinghouse Hill office. Reese Verrick, the former Quizmaster, has agreed to handle the technical details that will set in motion the most spectacular event of the decade."
"Is old Judge Waring still on the Board?" Laura asked Al. "He must be a hundred years old."
"He won't resign, not until he's dead."
"But he knows everything about the Challenge," Laura said.
The television had changed announcers. A view of the massive auditorium in which the Convention was being held swam into focus. Seats were already up, and the huge platform at which the Board sat in judgment. People milled back and forth; the auditorium boomed and echoed with sounds of furious activity.
"... Reese Verrick's offer of a million dollars has galvanized the Convention proceedings. Statisticians estimate a record number of applications. Everybody is eager to try his hand at the most daring role in the system, the greatest risk and the highest stakes. The eyes of six billion people on nine planets are turned on the Westinghouse Hill tonight. Who will be the first assassin? Out of these many brilliant applicants, representing all classes and Hills, who will be the first to try his hand for the prize and the acclamation of a whole civilization?"
"How about you?" Laura said suddenly to Benteley. "Why don't you put in an application?"
"Not my line!"
"Make it your line! Al, haven't we that big tape they put out—all the successful assassins of the past, their lives and everything about them? Show it to Ted." "I've seen it," Benteley said curtly.