"The head will be treated severely as a warning," shouted Hohmann. "Pass no buck, Unger. Your men are responsible to you—but you are equally responsible for them. Me—I think I will kill you myself! You might have deprived our people of a leader!"
Hohmann advanced toward the general, who faded back away from him. Across the vast office went the two of them, slowly and stalking, catlike. The general backed up, his face contorted with fear.
"Yesterday I start our pile," stormed Hohmann, "and this morning I get a radioactive letter! Twenty-four hours! Have you no shielding around that pile?" Hohmann grinned wolfishly. "Seems to me that I should lock you up in your own office over at the laboratory. Then you'd find that shielding is desirable, you idiot. Radiating like this—to render hot a letter, or pile of paper from which this letter came. Bah!"
He went forward again, and General Unger felt the dilemma he was in. He could not strike back; to kill this leader would bring about his own very slow and very painful death. To submit was death, but Hohmann was a good pistol shot and it would be quick. Yet to prolong life for another few precious moments, Unger retreated before the blazing eyes of his leader.
He backed, and felt the filing cabinets block his further retreat. He had crossed the vast office, backwards.
He pressed back against the cabinets and felt a warm wave of fear flush up through him. It rose and rose, and he pressed harder and harder back against the cabinets—
His yell of pain shattered the air. Hohmann startled, and the pistol went off with a loud racket. It missed, but General Unger was facing away from him, looking at the cabinets and rubbing his elbow.
Tentatively, Unger reached forward and touched a finger to the handle of the nearest file drawer.
He jerked it back, and blew upon it.
"Hohmann," he said. "They're hot!"