ral situation, Chief." The young man leaned back, confidently, await- ing the word that would send him off on another mission of infiltra- tion. He was quite stunned at the Chief's next move.

The Chief smiled, almost wickedly as he held up a file. “All in good time. All in good time. Ah—I've been looking at your file. This is you? Bowmont, Ian D., age 27, weight hundred thirty-five pounds, height five-six-with that mass of hair you look quite taller, you know.” He tapped the cover of the folder suggestively with a well-manicured fore- finger. What was up? Ian wondered he had an approximate idea of the contents of the folder-more important, the only things that would prevent him from taking this new caper wouldn't likely appear in his personnel file. "Your last medical examination seemed a bit strange- what was it-oh, yes, low metabolism, several deficiencies." He paused and looked at Ian for comment. "Well, after a year and a half of nothing but cheese and raw fish and some really terrible wine, I shouldn't wonder that a person might come up a little short, here and there. But the Senior Medical Officer gave me a great lot of tablets and such and said I should snap around straight off." Quite honestly, I feel as good or better than I ever have before, if you take away the effects of five hours in a night-train from Liverpool," he grimaced.

The Chief nodded soberly. "We shall see. I'm putting you on Head- quarters staff for a short time. You'll have a complete physical, and perhaps a bit of leave, and then we'll see we'll see.” Ian was incensed

-in one sentence, he had been told the three worst things that could happen to him— 1: that he would be tied to the dull, everyday routine of reading and filing briefs, 2: that he would have to take leave. This was unheard of unless an operator had really put his foot in it. For Ian, it meant losing part of his personality that was so strong that made him such a successful operator-the ability to live another life. He really didn't care for his own, as such. And finally, and this was really the crowning blow, the mission was going to another. The final insult! He had a damned good idea to resign right then!

"Oh, by the by," said the Chief. “I shouldn't be too worked up about all this—I have something special in mind for you—something you'll really have to go for to pull off. I suggest, if you're so enthusiastic, you run along to the SMO tomorrow a.m. and get his report. Maybe we can chat a bit later in the morning." With a wave of one hand, the Chief dismissed the young man, smiling as the door closed. For all their God-awful talents, sometimes these rare types were the easiest to herd. You just had to know where the sensitive spots were- -and how

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