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Updated: June 19, 2025
"And here are the forms and cards, and the sound-recorder, and blank sound disks." "Yes," Melroy added. "Be sure you get a recording of every interview and oral test; we may need them for evidence." He broke off as a man in white coveralls came pushing into the office.
"We're all United States deputy marshals. They don't bother much with counterespionage, here, but they don't fool when it comes to countersabotage. Well, I'll get an order cut and posted. Be seeing you, doctor." "You think the union will make trouble about these tests?" she asked, after the general foreman had gone out. "They're sure to," Melroy replied. "Here's the situation.
The younger mediator, Quillen, cleared his throat. "It seems, from our information, that this entire dispute arises from the discharge, by Mr. Melroy, of two of his employees, named Koffler and Burris. Is that correct?"
Three seconds after he stopped speaking, the lights went out. For a moment, they were silent and motionless. Then somebody across the table from Melroy began to say, "What the devil ?" Doris Rives, beside him, clutched his arm. At the head of the table, Lyons was fuming impatiently, and Kenneth Leighton snapped a pocket-lighter and held it up.
"It's bad enough that all three of us got here ahead of them; they'll be sure to think we're trying to take an unfair advantage of them. I suppose neither of you have had time to see any of the new plays." Fortunately, Doris and Melroy had gone to the theater after dinner, the evening-before-last; they were able to join the conversation. Young Mr.
The bellicose voice continued, and Melroy spotted the speaker short, thick-set, his arms jutting out at an angle from his body, his heavy features soured with anger. "Like we was a lotta halfwits, 'r nuts, 'r some'n! Well, we don't hafta stand for this. They ain't got no right "
He knew, as a matter of fact, that there had been several nasty, meticulously unpublicized, near-catastrophes at the Long Island Nuclear Reaction Plant, all involving the new Doernberg-Giardano breeder-reactors, and that there had been considerable carefully-hushed top-level acrimony before the Melroy Engineering Corporation had been given the contract to install the fully cybernetic control system intended to prevent a recurrence of such incidents.
Rives, the new dimwit detector. Sid's in direct charge of personnel," he continued, "so you two'll be working together quite a bit." "Glad to know you, doctor," Keating said. Then he turned to Melroy. "Scott, you're really going through with this, then?" he asked. "I'm afraid we'll have trouble, then." "Look, Sid," Melroy said. "We've been all over that.
Crandall wants to talk to you," he said, grinning triumphantly, the phone extended to Melroy. The engineer picked up another phone, snapping a button on the base of it. "Melroy here," he said. Something on the line started going bee-beep-beep softly. "Crandall, executive secretary, I.F.A.W.," the man on the other end of the line identified himself. "Is there a recorder going on this line?"
Some of the Central Intelligence and F.B.I. people, who realized how futile even the most elaborate security measures were against a resourceful and suicidally determined saboteur. And a minority of engineers and nuclear physicists who remained unpersuaded that accidental blowups at nuclear-reaction plants were impossible. Scott Melroy was among these last.
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