CHAPTER 1

The offices of Joe Wilson, purchasing agent for Ryberg Instrument Corporation, looked out over the company’s private landing field. Joe stood by the window now, wishing they didn’t, because it was an eternal reminder that he’d once had hopes of becoming an engineer instead of an office flunky.

He saw the silver test ship of the radio lab level off at bullet speed, circle once and land. That would be Cal Meacham, Joe thought. Nobody but a radio engineer would fly an aeroplane that way.

He chomped irritably on his cigar and turned away. From his desk he picked up a letter and read it through slowly for the fourth time. It was in answer to an order he had placed for condensers for Cal’s hot transmitter job—Cal’s stuff was always hot.

Dear Mr. Wilson:

We were pleased to receive your order of the 8th for samples of our XC-109 condenser. However, we find that our present catalog lists no such item nor did we ever carry it.

We are, therefore, substituting the AB-619 model, a high-voltage oil-filled transmitting-type condenser. As you specified, it is rated at 10,000 volts with 100% safety factor and has 4 mf. capacity.

We trust these will meet with your approval and that we may look forward to receiving your production order for these items. It is needless, of course, to remind you that we manufacture a complete line of electronic components. We would be glad to furnish samples of any items from our stock which might interest you.

Respectfully yours,

A. G. Archmanter

Electronic Service-Unit 16

Joe Wilson put the letter down slowly and took up the box of beads that had come with it.

He picked up one bead by a lead wire sticking out of it. The bead was about a quarter of an inch in diameter and there seemed to be a smaller concentric shell inside. Between the two was some reddish liquid. Another wire connected to the inner shell, but for the life of him Joe couldn’t see how that inner wire came through the outer shell.

It made him dizzy to concentrate on the spot where it came through. The spot seemed to shift and move.

“Ten thousand volts!” he muttered. “Four mikes!”

He tossed the bead back into the box. Cal would be hotter than the transmitter job when he saw these.

Joe heard the door of his secretary’s office open and glanced through the glass panel. Cal Meacham burst in with a breeze that