Terl raised the scan picture to the light. It took him a moment or two to realize it was different today. Then he quivered with abrupt shock.

The face of the cliff had avalanched. There was no lode there.

He didn't have yesterday's pictures. He always tore them up promptly. He tried to estimate how much of the face was gone. The incline of it was different. He couldn't estimate how deep the sheer-off had cut into the cliff.

There was a hole. That would be the drift. They had been drifting along the vein.

He was about to put the photo down to think about it when he noticed the mineral side scan trace. The primary purpose of a recon drone was not surveillance. It scanned ceaselessly for minerals and recorded them on a trace. This trace was different.

Indeed it was different. He knew the lode trace: the jagged spectrum of gold. He quickly ran the trace into the analyzing machine.

Sulphur? There was no sulphur in that lode. That gold was not a sulphide gold compound. Carbon? Fluorine? What in the name of the crap nebula...none of these minerals were in that area!

He wondered whether he was looking at the six-common-mineral formula of what the Psychlos called "trigdite." None of the explosives or fuels were imported from Psychlo. They were dangerous to transship and easy to make on this planet. The little factory stood about ten miles south of the compound, served by the power lines from the distant dam, and every now and then a crew went down to combine the elements into fuel cartridges and explosives. So all these elements were present on this planet.

He ran it through the scanner again to get the exact balance of the mix.

Trigdite!

Terl's unbalanced wits instantly leaped to a wrong conclusion. Trigdite was the commonest trace one got around any Psychlo mine. It would almost be unusual not to find it as it hung in the rocks and air after blasting.

He leaped from his chair and ripped the scan photo to bits in savage paws. He threw down the fragments. He stamped on them. He pounded his fists against the wall.

The vicious rotten animals had blown the face of the cliff off! Just to spite him! just to get even with him! They'd destroyed his lode!

He collapsed in the chair.

He heard a knocking at his door and Chirk's worried voice, “Whatever is the matter, Terl?"

Suddenly he realized he must get control of himself. He must be very cold, very clever.

“The machine broke,” he shouted, a clever explanation.

She went away.

He felt cool, dispassionate, masterful. He knew exactly what he would do, knew it step by step. He would have to remove all possible threats to his life. He would have to cover all traces.

First he would commit the perfect crime. He had worked it all out.

Then he would release the drone and exterminate the animals.

His talons were still shaking a bit. He knew it would make him feel much better if he went out and killed the two females. He had that planned for Day 94. He would make a couple of explosive collars for the horses and then he would lead the horses up to the cage and show the females the red blob on the horses' collars was the same as on theirs, and then he would hit a switch and explode a horse's head off. The females would go into terror. Then he'd do it to the other horse. Then he'd pretend to let them loose but step back and blow the smaller female's head off. The amount of terror he could generate would be delicious. He felt he needed such a boost now. Then he remembered the animal's “psychic powers.” That animal up in the hills would know about it and might do something to avoid getting killed.

No, attractive and needful to his nerves as it might be, he must not indulge himself. He must be cool, masterful and clever.

He had better set the perfect crime in motion right this instant.

He got up with deliberate, calm determination and went about it.

The perfect crime began by appointing Ker the deputy head of the planet. It was all done within the hour and distributed and posted. The company rules allowed for a deputy, there was none and it was only logical that one be appointed.

To do this, Terl used the already signed order pages he had gotten from Numph.

In the evening, Terl took Numph aside, swearing him to strict secrecy and hinting his swindle with pay and bonus funds might be at risk, and got him to make an appointment with a new employee named Snit.

He did not inform Numph that “Snit” was the cover name of Jayed of the imperial Bureau of investigation.

Terl impressed on Numph that no one must know of the appointment. It must take place at the hour just before midnight in the administration compound. He also didn't mention that the offices would be deserted at that time.

Telling Numph it was all for his own protection, Terl arranged to be standing behind a curtain in Numph's office when Jayed arrived.

With very expert care, Terl had oiled and charged an assassin gun, a silent weapon. He had also prepared two remote explosion blasting caps.

Just before the appointment time, Terl told Numph to be sure his handgun was loaded and ready in his lap. This frightened Numph a little, but Terl said, "I’ll be right behind this curtain protecting you.”

Numph was at the desk, gun in lap; Terl was behind the curtain. The hour of the appointment arrived. So far

Terl had been calm and masterful, but as he waited his nerves were playing him tricks and making his eyebones twitch. What if Jayed didn't come?

A dreadful minute went by. Then another. Jayed was late.

Then, what a relief to Terl, the slither of footsteps in the outside hall. Of course! Jayed must have been putting a probe to the area to see whether it was free of surveillance devices. What

a fool, thought Terl illogically. Terl had already done that and very thoroughly too. There were no surveillance devices here.

The door slid quietly open and Jayed came in. His head was down. He had not even bothered to change out of his tattered ore-sorter clothes.

“You sent for me, Your Planetship," muttered Jayed.

As he had been coached, Numph said, “Are you certain that no one knows you are here?”

“Yes, Your Planetship," mumbled Jayed. What an act, thought Terl contemptuously.

He stepped out from behind the curtain and walked forward. “Hello, Jayed,” said Terl.

The fellow was jolted. He looked up.

"Terl? Is it Terl?" I.B.I. agents were trained. They never forgot a face. Terl knew the fellow had not seen him for years and years and then only as a security student at the mine school when Jayed had been investigating a crime there. One interview. But it didn't fool Terl. He knew Jayed must have studied and studied the photographs and records of every executive here, and especially the security chief's. Terl smiled disdainfully.

Then Jayed saw the assassin pistol at Terl's side. He stepped back. He raised his mangy paws. “Wait. Terl! You don't understand-!”

What was he trying to do? Open his shirt? Reach for a secret weapon?

It made no difference. Terl stepped into position and raised the gun, putting it on a direct line from Numph to Jayed.

Terl fired one, accurate, deadly shot into Jayed's heart.

Jayed was trying to say something. Some protest. He was dead, crumpled and mangy on the green-stained carpet.

Terl thrilled a bit with the murder. Jayed had been afraid! But this was no time for self-indulgence.

A calm masterful Terl turned to

Numph.

Numph was sitting there in terror. Terl thought it was delicious. But he had a job to do.

“Don't worry, Numph,” said Terl. “That fellow was an agent of the I.B.I. come to smoke you out. He hasn't. You're safe. I have saved your life.”

Numph tremblingly laid his own gun down on the desk top. He was panting but much relieved.