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my opinions and my vote."
    He paused. Since these were not public hearings, Macintosh was not indulging in any histrionics or impassioned oratory. He was a single-minded man with a basic objective. Len was suddenly glad that the Base was doing so well.
    "I did not hear a question, Senator," he said at last, when Macintosh showed no sign of continuing.
    "I am coming to it. Mr. Martello, I strongly believe that this entity, this powerful corporation which now has more activity in space than any country of the earth, is controlled by and the tool of organized crime."
    He leaned forward, his manner intent. "I also believe that you, personally, know a great deal about the workings of this organization." With an instinctive flourish, he picked up a document from the long table and held it out towards Len. "If you will cooperate with us—help us to the limit of your knowledge—then I have already arranged that you will be given immunity for any crimes you have personally committed. This document, which you are free to examine, gives that guarantee from the Justice Department."
    He handed it across the table. The room had gone completely silent. Len took the paper with trembling hands, surprised by his own tension, and looked at the Presidential Seal upon it. He read it through carefully.
    "And if I do not act as you suggest?" he said at last.
    "We will terminate our questions for today. You may return to your home." Macintosh paused. "For a time," he said softly. "But Mr. Martello, that will not be the end of the story. I will continue to pursue this matter, as long as I have strength to do it. And you will not have immunity."
    "A man who has done nothing wrong does not need immunity."
    "How true." Macintosh shook his head. "But how many of us have done nothing wrong? Will you give me your answer, Mr. Martello?"
    "I will give it to you, Senator." Len cleared his throat, then sat with head bowed for many seconds. When he at last looked up his face was white. "I decline your offer of immunity. If you have no more questions, I request that I be allowed to leave these Hearings."
    The hubbub in the room took a long time to die down. As Len was leaving he caught Garry's eye—an incredulous, troubled eye. Behind him, he could hear the mutter of voices at the table as Senator Macintosh huddled with his aides.
    * * *
    After that last meeting of looks in the Congressional Hearing, Len had seen and heard nothing from Garry for almost four months. His phone calls had not been returned, two letters had gone unanswered. That Garry should arrive, uninvited, at the penthouse apartment that Fall evening was doubly surprising. Even as a youth, Garry had made all his appointments in advance.
    "Alone?" Garry looked round and snaked into the apartment almost before the door was open fully.
    "God help us! "Len was laughing. "Who's after you, Aunt Wilma?"
    "No joking." Garry went over to the window and looked out nervously. "I took an Eastern Shuttle flight to get here—paid cash. Have to be back before anybody knows I've left."
    "You can come away from the window—we're thirty floors up. No one's going to be looking in. Garry, what the hell's going on?"
    They sat facing each other, Garry with his overcoat still buttoned.
    "You're in bad trouble, Len. A week from now, you'll be in jail. Macintosh has enough to put you in for tax evasion—I talked to one of his aides, and he told me a lot more than he ought."
    He was short of breath and his words came out in wheezing bursts.
    "It's not too late, I know that. If you come back to Washington with me, agree to cooperate—you'll still get immunity. Will you do it, Len?"
    His expression was pleading. Len shook his head slowly.
    "I can't do it, Garry. You don't understand the situation. They'd give me immunity so they could get at the top guys in the operations, right? But I've not been level with you. For the past two years, I've been the top man. Think they'd give me immunity? Anybody else in the Council,