"What, Paul?"
"It is barely possible that—" his voice trailed away as he eyed a dusty calendar on one of the desks. He went to it and began flipping pages. "It's barely possible that my gang did not turn off the radio beacons for a couple of weeks after I got caught by Westlake," muttered Paul. "Just barely possible—"
He went to the beacon receiver and turned it on. Impatiently he waited for it to warm up.
It came to life and Paul tuned carefully through the band where he expected the beacons to come through. There was silence. He ran the dial far to one side, and then to the other. At one point he picked up some 'side splash' from the big interstellar beacon on Latham Alpha IV, leakage from the tight beam.
He sat up stiffly.
"Nora, will you wait a week?"
"Week?"
"I've caught some of the radiation leakage from the big transmitter. We can use that."
"And if you fail?"
"I won't fail."