Crayley's nerves tightened as the minutes slipped away. Would that fool Greene never step away from the control board, even for a minute? Why didn't he shut the damned thing off?
He finally gave up and forced himself to relax. It was too late now. He'd have to talk fast.
"Look!" one of the men snapped. He was pointing at one of the screens. Right on schedule, the waldo's arm reached up, grabbed the regulator coil housing, and ripped it off.
There was an excited babble of voices, and Crayley forced himself to look as flabbergasted as the rest.
The hand dropped down again to the ready position.
Crayley turned to Greene and started to say something that would keep the board's mind on the sabotage track, but he noticed that everyone was looking at the screen again. He swiveled his head around.
The secondary hand had lifted into the air. It extended its forefinger and made meaningless motions.
Crayley's jaw muscles tightened. What the devil did it mean? How had that got on the tape?
The hand dropped. There came a faint chime which signaled the end of the tape.
"Let's run through that again," said Fenwick Greene, an odd note in his voice.