Their own people could be turning out such weapons as they wanted, without going through the twists and turns for production that he had encountered.
A foreign power—He'd ruled that out time after time. Another country could produce weapons in its own workshops, with far more secrecy than could be obtained here.
The Federal government itself—That was ridiculous.
Actually, his mind was going over the same old tracks again, playing with ideas for which it had no solution. One always had to come back to the cost, the staggering, fantastic cost of production. Under this system the costs were a thousand times what normal production costs would be.
Usually, he played with the ideas, then told himself he would wait and see. Eventually he would find out. Now, it was different. Now he must give up the speculation. There was no telling himself that sooner or later he would know. Now, that he was at the end of the trail, he might never know.
He couldn't hide under the belt forever. Actually, it was practically no protection. Merely a six-foot wide strip that was eight feet high, stretching a thousand feet or more to disappear into the wall on the far side.
It struck him—there were no supports for the belt. It seemed to be self-supporting throughout its length. The place itself was light, without any sign of a light source, like the early dawn, but brighter. And except for the belt, the light, and himself, the place was empty.
He followed the belt, after awhile, walking beneath it, feeling that that was the only thing to do. He couldn't go back, and there seemed no way out except where the belt went.
He should have stayed on it. For he walked the length—or was it the width?—of the room and he saw no sign of a door opening except for the belt passageway.
The belt had dropped so that here it was about five feet above the floor, instead of eight. He could get back on, be carried where it went. Or wait.
He went back twenty feet, so there would be time to get in position on the belt before he hit the opening in the wall. Then he went to one side, turned, ran easily, and jumped. His hands caught the edge of the belt, his arms contracted, and the momentum of his body was maintained. He was on the surface of the belt again. He reached the center just as he came to the opening in the wall. Twenty feet hadn't been too much. The belt was moving more swiftly than he had thought. Much more swiftly.
He was in a tunnel again. Perhaps it was imagination, but he thought the belt was moving even faster, now. At one point he felt a slight jolt beneath him, and started in alarm. But it was over before he could have taken action. It could have been where one belt ended and
