Even when Klythe had come back, Crayley hadn't immediately considered him as a block in his path; there was always the chance of the Breakdown.
Sometimes something went wrong with Rejuvenation, even when the patient lived through the year. Instead of being better than normal, the body went out of kilter. Some little thing, probably—they hadn't pinpointed it yet. A gland that malfunctioned, a nerve blockage, something. Whatever it was, the rejuvenee suddenly began to age rapidly after a few months, dying of acute senility within the year.
But when a year had passed and Berin Klythe was as healthy as ever, Lewis Crayley had begun to plot murder. And now the plans had matured; soon they would bear fruit. Soon he would be Director—Permanent Director. As Director, it would be easy to erase the end of that tape before anyone else got their hands on it. He, himself, would be the one to head the investigation of the accident.
Crayley watched the assembly impatiently from behind his face.
The hands and arms and fingers of the waldoes in the screen worked together with precision as they put the last finishing touches to the generator unit. Finally they were finished; the arms assumed the "ready" position.
Crayley almost held his breath. Everything depended on Klythe now. Klythe, with his impatience, his pride in a piece of work well done, his eagerness to be sure of perfection; Klythe himself was the only weak link in the chain that led to his own death.
The tunnel was still flooded with radioactivity. In production, that wouldn't matter; the next set would slide into place and the hands would begin again. But this was a test run; the record would be allowed to run to the end instead of recycling, while the huge pumps replaced the argon atmosphere with air suitable for breathing. The radioactive stuff was pumped to a cooling chamber, where its silent violence would be allowed to expend itself below the danger point.
Five minutes. Crayley could see in his mind's eye that tape running through the pickup head, running through five minutes of nothing. Then a light flashed above the door to the tunnel as the detectors signalled the all-clear. It was safe to enter the tunnel now.
Crayley found himself clenching his teeth for a fraction of a second before Klythe opened the door and stepped through. There was a long, almost timeless instant as Crayley watched Klythe's face on the screen. Then there was a sudden sound, a brilliant light, and the screen went dead.