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never got in without a temporary visitor's badge and careful scrutiny.

The reason for ultra-precautions was simple. The center housed a

priceless treasure trove: A computerized record of eight and a half mil-

lion GSP&L customers, with their meter readings, billings, and pay-

ments-all going back years-plus details of shareholders, employces,

company equipment, inventories, technical data, and a multitude of other

intelligence.

One strategically placed hand grenade in the Computer Center could have

wreaked more havoc to the giant utility's system than a wbeelbarrow load

of high explosive employed against high voltage lines or substations.

The center's information was stored on hundreds of magnetic disc packs.

There were twenty discs to a pack, and each disc-twice the size of a

normal LP recording-contained the records of one hundred thousand

customers.

Value of the computers was about thirty million dollars. Value of the

recorded information was incalculable.

Nim had come to the Computer Center with Oscar O'Brien, their purpose to

observe the dispatch of what was officially a "Consumer Survey" mailing

but what, in fact, was the baited trap in which it was hoped to snare the

Friends of Freedom leader, Georgos Arcbambault.

It was Thursday, four days after the Sunday "think group" session in the

general counsel's home.

Many hours had been spent since then, working on the questionnaire

scheme. Nim and O'Brien bad decided eight questions would be posed. The

first few were simple. For example:

Does Golden State Power & Light provide you with satisfactory

service? Please answer yes or no.

Further on, there was room for more expansive answers.

In what ways do you believe that Golden State Power & Light service

could be improved?

And:

Do you have trouble understanding the details on your Golden State

Power & Light bills? If so, please tell us your problem.

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Finally:

Golden State Power & Light apologizes to its customers for

inconveniences as a result of cowardly attacks on company installations

by small-time, would-be terrorists who act in ignorance. If there are

ways in which you think such attacks could be ended, please give us

your views.

As Oscar O'Brien observed, "If that doesn't make Arcbambault hopping mad,

and tempt him into replying, nothing will."

Law enforcement authorities-the city police, FBI, and the District

Attorney's office-when informed of GSP&L's idea, had reacted favorably. The

D.A.'s office offered help in examining the thousands of questionnaires

when they began coming back.

Sharlett Underhill, executive vice president of finance, whose respon-

sibilities included the Computer Center, met Nim and O'Brien after they

were checked through Security. Mrs. Underhill, dressed smartly in a light

blue tailored suit, told them, "We are running your Consumer Survey now.

All twelve thousand copies should be out of here and in the mail tonight."

"Eleven thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine of the damn things," O'Brien

said, "we don't care about. There's just one we're hoping to get back."

"It would cost us a lot less money," the finance chief said tartly, "if you

knew which it was."

"If we knew that, my dear Sharlett, we wouldn't be here."

The trio walked deeper into computer country, past rows of softly bumming

metal and glass cabinets, stopping beside an IBM 3800 laser printer which

was spitting out questionnaires, ready for mailing in window envelopes.

The top of the single page read:

Golden State Power& Light

CONSUMER SURVEY

We would appreciate your answers,

in confidence, to some important questions.

Our objective is to serve you better.

ne name and address followed, then a perforation across the entire page.

Below the perforation was the instruction:

TO PRESERVE YOUR ANONYMITY

TEAR OFF AND DISCARD THE TOP

PORTION OF THIS FORM.

NO SIGNATURE OR ANY OTHER

IDENTIFICATION IS REQUIRED.

THANK YOU!

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A return business-reply envelope, requiring no stamp, would accompany each

questionnaire.

Nim asked, "Where is the invisible ink?"

O'Brien chuckled. "You can't see it, meathead. It's invisible."

Sharlett Underhill went closer to the printer and opened the top. Leaning

forward, she pointed to a bottle containing a clear, apparently oily

liquid; the bottle was inverted and from it a plastic tube ran downward.

"This is a special assembly put on for this job. TI-ie tube feeds a

numbering device linked with the computer. The bottom half of each page is

being imprinted with the invisible number. At the same time, the computer

is recording which number goes to what address."

Mrs. Underhill closed the cover. At the back of the machine she removed one

of the completed questionnaires and carried it to a metal desk nearby.

There she switched on a portable light on a small stand. "This is a 'black'

light." As she placed the paper under it, the number 3702 leaped out.

"Damned ingenious," O'Brien said. "Okay, so now we have a number. Then

what?"

"When you give me the number which requires identifying," Mrs. Underhill

informed him, "it will be entered into the computer along with a secret

code, known only to two people-one of our trusted senior programmers and

me. The computer will immediately tell us the address to which that

particular questionnaire was mailed."

Nim pointed out, "We're gambling, of course, that we'll have a number to

give you."

Sharlett Underhill fixed the two men with a steely glare. "Whether you do

or not, I want you both to understand two things. I was not in favor of

what is being done here because I do not like my department's equipment and

records used for what is essentially a deceitful purpose. I protested to

the chairman, but be seems to feel strongly about what is being done and I

was overruled."

"Yes, we know that," O'Brien said. "But for God's sake, Sharlett, this is

a special case!"

Mrs. Underhill remained unsmiling. "Please bear me out. When you have given

me the number you hope to get-and I will accept one number only-the

information you want will be drawn from the computer, using the secret code

I mentioned. But, the moment that has happened, the computer will be

instructed to forget all the other numbers and related addresses. I want

that clearly understood."

"It's understood," the lawyer acknowledged. "And fair enough."

Nim said, "Changing the subject, Sharlett, did your people have trouble

defining and separating that seven-square-mile area we specified?"

"None whatever. Our programming method makes it possible to di-

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vide and subdivide our customers into many categories and any geographic

area." The executive vice president relaxed as she warmed to a subject she

clearly enjoyed. "When properly used, a modern computer is a sensitive and

flexible tool. It's also totally reliable." She hesitated. "Well, almost

totally."

As she spoke the last words, Mrs. Underhill glanced toward another IBM

printer, flanked by a table at which two men were seated. They appeared to

be checking computer printouts, one by one, by hand.

O'Brien was curious. "What's happening over there?"

For the first time since they had come in, Sharlett Underhill smiled.

"That's our 'VIP anti-goof squad.' Many public utilities have one."

Nim shook his head. "I work here and I've never heard of it."

They strolled to where the work was being done.

"Those are bills," Mrs. Underhill said, "based on latest meter readings,

and due to go out tomorrow. What the billing computer does is separate the

bills of several hundred people who are on a special listthe mayor,

supervisors, councilmen in the various cities we serve, senior state

officials, Congressmen, newspaper editors and columnists, broadcasters,

judges, prominent lawyers-others like that. Then each bill is inspected, as

you're seeing now, to make sure there's nothing unusual about it. If there

is, it7s sent to another department and double-checked before mailing. That

way, we avoid fuss and embarrassment if a computer, or a person who

programmed it, does slip up."

They watched the inspection continue, an occasional bill being extracted

and put aside, while Sharlett Underhill reminisced.

"We once had a computer print a monthly bill for a city councilman. The

computer tripped and added a string of extra zeros. His bill should have

been forty-five dollars. Instead, it went to him as four million, five

hundred thousand dollars."

Tliey all laughed. Nim asked, "What happened?"

... I'hat's the point. If he'd brought the bill in, or phoned, evervone

would have had a good laugh, after which we'd have torn it up and probably

given him a credit for his trouble. Instead, he called a press conference.

He showed the bill around to prove how incompetent we are at GSP & L, and

said it proved we ought to be taken over by the city."

O'Brien shook his head. "I can hardly believe it."

"I assure you it happened," Mrs. Underhill said. "Politicians are the worst

people to magnify a simple mistake, even though they make more than most of

us. But there are others. Anyway, it was about then we started our own 'VIP

anti-goof squad.' I'd heard about it from Con Edison in New York. They have

one. Now, whenever we come across anyone important or pompous or both, we

add his-or her-name. We even have a few people in this company on the

list."

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O'Brien conceded, "I can be pompous at times. It's one of my weaknesses."

He pointed to the pile of bills. "Am I in there?"

"Oscar," Sharlett Underhill told him as she led the way out, "that is

something you will never know."

Ruth Goldman was in New York.

She had gone to begin treatments at the Sloan-Kettering Institute and

would be away two weeks. Other trips would be necessary later.

The decision had been taken by Dr. Levin after studying the test results

from Ruth's previous visit and discussing them by telephone with the New

York doctors. He told Nim and Ruth together, I can't make promises; no

one can, and nothing is definite. But I'll go so far as to say that 1,

and the Sloan-Kettering people, are cautiously optimistic." That was as

much as they could get from him.

Nim had taken Ruth to the airport early yesterday morning for an American

Airlines non-stop flight. They had said an emotional goodbye.

"I love you," he declared just before Ruth boarded. "I'll miss you, and

I'll be doing whatever's the equivalent of praying."

She had laughed then, and kissed him once more. "It's a strange thing,"

she had said, "but even with all this, I've never been happier."

In New York, Ruth was staying with friends and would attend the Institute

several days a week as an outpatient.

Leah and Benly had again gone to stay with their grandparents. This time,