their

use the matter transmitter to stage a dramatic proof that I wasn't the tool of the enemy. The demonstration would be more dramatic than I'd planned. The bomb would fit the machine as easily as the tape. The wheels would be surprised when their firecracker went off—right on schedule—in the middle of the Mojave Desert.
I set to work, my heart pounding. If I could bring this off—if I had time—if the transmitter worked as advertised . . .
The stolen knowledge flowed smoothly, l