"I like to play safe," said Westlake.
"How safe?"
"Plenty."
"Then you won't like this. But I'm going to make one gamble, and one bet on a certain thing."
"Yes—and which is which?"
"Without a doubt Grayson got the equipment he was using from Huston and Huston's crowd of coalitionists. They set him up on some planet with a laboratory under their direction, and are probably running the Neoterran Press ragged with glowing reports of Grayson's howling success—carefully guarding their statements with cautious warnings that The Public must not expect Z-wave communications with Terra overnight, but someday—soon—et-cetera, and so forth."
Westlake laughed. "'The police anticipate an early apprehension of the criminals,' sort of thing."
"Exactly."
"Furthermore I will be a bad prophet if I am incorrect in assuming that when Huston started Grayson on his job, Huston gave orders that Grayson was not to do anything that would gain him any notice whatsoever. On the idea that the first mention of failure would puncture Huston's political propaganda."
"All reasoning based upon the 'what would I do?' theory. Good and sound I calls it."