As Leavitt put the car in gear, Hall said, "I guess we don't rate any more."

"Oh yes. We rate. But drivers aren't used out here. In fact, we don't use any more personnel than we have to. The number of wagging tongues is kept to a minimum."

They set off across desolate, hilly countryside. In the distance were blue mountains, shimmering in the liquid heat of the desert. The road was pock-marked and dusty; it looked as if it hadn't been used for years.

Hall mentioned this.

"Deceptive," Leavitt said. "We took great pains about it. We spent nearly five thousand dollars on this road."

"Why?"

Leavitt shrugged. "Had to get rid of the tractor treadmarks. A hell of a lot of heavy equipment has moved over these roads, at one time or another. Wouldn't want anyone to wonder why."

"Speaking of caution," Hall said after a pause, "I was reading in the file. Something about an atomic self-destruct device."

"What about it?"

"It exists?"

"It exists."

Installation of the device had been a major stumbling block in the early plans for Wildfire. Stone and the others had insisted that they retain control over the detonate/no detonate decision; the AEC and the Executive branch had been reluctant. No atomic device had been put in private hands before. Stone argued that in the event of a leak in the Wildfire lab, there might not be time to consult with Washington and get a Presidential detonate order. It was a long time before the President agreed that this might be true.

"I was reading," Hall said, "that this device is somehow connected with the Odd Man Hypothesis."

"It is."

"How? The page on Odd Man was taken from my file."

"I know," Leavitt said. "We'll talk about it later."

The Falcon turned off the potted road onto a dirt track. The sedan raised a heavy cloud of dust, and despite the heat, they were forced to roll up the windows. Hall lit a cigarette.

"That'll be your last," Leavitt said.

"I know. Let me enjoy it."

On their fight, they passed a sign that said GOVERNMENT PROPERTY KEEP OFF, but there was no fence, no guard, no dogs—just a battered, weather-beaten sign.

"Great security measures," Hall said.

"We try not to arouse suspicion. The security is better than it looks."

They proceeded another mile, bouncing along the dirt rut, and then came over a hill. Suddenly Hall saw a large, fenced circle perhaps a hundred yards in diameter. The fence, he noticed, was ten feet high and sturdy; at intervals it was laced with barbed wire. Inside was a utilitarian wooden building, and a field of corn.

"Corn?" Hall said.

"Rather clever, I think."

They came to the entrance gate. A man in dungarees and a T-shirt came out and opened it for them; he held a sandwich in one hand and was chewing vigorously as he unlocked the gate. He winked and smiled and waved them through, still chewing. The sign by the gate said: