"Yes, sir." Sellors looked tremendously relieved.
"And start interrogating the communications technicians. Find out who's responsible for that spy circuit, and hold him on security charges. And locate Lamarre!"
"I'll do my best, Mr. Walton."
While the screen was clearing, Walton jotted down a memorandum to himself: investigate Sellors. So far, as security chief, Sellors had allowed an assassin to reach FitzMaugham, allowed Prior to burst into Walton's old office, permitted Fred to masquerade as a doorsmith long enough to gain access to Walton's private files, and stood by blindly while Lee Percy tapped into Walton's private wire and some unidentified technician strung a spy pickup into the director's supposedly sacred office.
No security chief could have been as incompetent as all that. It had to be a planned campaign, directed from the outside.
He dialed Eglin.
"Olaf, you get my message about the Venus rescue mission okay?"
"Came through a few minutes ago. I'll have the specs drawn up by tonight."
"Devil with that," Walton said. "Drop everything and send that ship out now. I've got to know what Lang and his crew are up to, and I have to know right away. If we don't produce a livable Venus, or at least the possibility of one, in a couple of days, we'll be in for it on all sides."
"Why? What's up?"