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radioactive count on.’
    â€˜And how’s it been going?’
    The technical assistant turned his head and looked directly at him. Frank thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, ‘Didn’t Professor Friedmann give you the figures?’
    â€˜He said there were no surprises.’
    â€˜That’s it,’ said the technical assistant, looking ahead once more. ‘No surprises.’
    The tunnel opened out and Frank was momentarily dazzled by a bank of lights in the roof of an enormous chamber, as wide and high as the main hall at Grand Central Station. Four huge stainless steel tanks about twenty feet high were cemented into the floor, arranged in line one after the other, a series of silver-coated pipes connecting them and running into what appeared to be a filtration apparatus mounted on a concrete base. The smell of perchloroethylene was very strong now, stinging the nostrils and making Frank’s eyes fill with moisture.
    The technical assistant laughed. ‘You get used to it aftera while. And it sure clears up any sinus trouble you might have.’
    Frank sneezed and wiped his eyes. He was beginning to find the technical assistant’s sense of humour a little wearing.
    The cab had halted in a siding and they climbed out and walked past the tanks to a two-storey steel gantry where three men were sitting within an arrangement of consoles and instrumentation, elevated above the floor of the cavern. Two of the men were fairly young, in their twenties; the third was older, Frank presumed, though it was difficult to tell; he was a dwarf.
    As they reached the top of the metal stairway the technical assistant said in an undertone, ‘Dr Leach isn’t too sociable. He doesn’t think visitors should be allowed down here. So I’d be careful what I ask him if I were you.’
    It was oppressively warm and Frank was sweating. The breeze was gentler here than in the tunnels and the humidity very high, the body perspiring while at rest without even expending any effort.
    The technical assistant introduced Mr Kersh from
Science Now
and Dr Leach’s bulbous eyes passed hurriedly and rather impatiently across Frank’s face, seeming to take him in and dismiss him in a single brief glance. He didn’t offer his hand but said at once in a voice that was low and throaty, almost a growl, ‘We’re extremely busy, I hope Professor Friedmann told you that. We haven’t got time to answer journalists’ questions when we’re conducting important scientific research.’
    He crouched rather than sat on the chair, his feet not touching the floor, and there was something even more strange about him that Frank at first didn’t comprehend: then he realized what it was: although his head and shoulders and arms were those of a normal-sized man the rest of his body appeared to have shrunk or wasted away so that his deformity was made even more grotesque by the ungainly joining of ill-matched parts. He was half-man, half-dwarf,the cruellest of nature’s jokes in combining odd bits and pieces left over from other human beings.
    Frank said, ‘I’ll try not to take up too much of your time, Dr Leach. But if I might correct you on one point: I’m a science writer, not a journalist.’
    â€˜Is that a camera you’ve got there?’ Dr Leach said pettishly. ‘You’re not to take any photographs, I hope that’s clearly understood.’
    â€˜Professor Friedmann raised no objection.’
    â€˜Professor Friedmann isn’t in charge of the installation; I am. The Professor is Project leader but I’m responsible for everything below ground.’
    Frank nodded slowly. ‘I see.’
    He also saw that he wasn’t going to impress Dr Leach with his charm, tact and good manners. The man had made up his mind and there didn’t appear to be much hope of changing it; in any case Frank didn’t feel