starvation and apathy. Jules shuddered to think of it, but kept his disgust hidden; as Har
Koosman, such sights should be as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror.
At length they came to a spot where the street was frankly impassable. The press of
people had become so great that they simply overflowed the sidewalks into the
thoroughfare, and no vehicle could hope to get through. Jules looked at Passar for
advice, but the latter only shrugged. “We’d’ve had to go on foot from here, anyhow,” the
older man said.
Jules stripped off his guard uniform to the caftan beneath it and the two escapees
jumped from their car, leaving it stopped in the middle of the street to be stolen by
anyone passing by. Passar started running through the crowd, slipping between the
people who jammed the path as though he were a boneless figure. There obviously was
an art to dodging through crowds like this, but it was one that Jules had not mastered.
Try though he did to follow Passar’s motions exactly, be found himself knocking people
over or stepping on their feet as he raced along after his companion. Every few meters
he would have to leap over the body of someone sleeping or, possibly, dead on the
sidewalk. How he managed to keep Passar in sight while maneuvering through the throng
he was never sure afterwards; somehow, though, desperation gave him the extra edge
he needed.
Passar never looked back to see whether Jules was following him or not. He assumed,
probably, that Jules was as adept at street running as he was, and consequently didn’t
see how clumsy his partner really was. That might have broken Jules’ cover right there.
But Passar’s attention was focused on two things-first, to get them lost in the crowd as
thoroughly as possible so that the police following them would not be able to find them;
and second, to take them to a place of refuge.
At last, Passar turned off the main streets and into a back alley that ran between two
rows of buildings. He raced about a third of the way down the row, then descended a
short flight of stairs to a basement door. Jules broke free of the crowd in the streets and,
with an extra burst of speed, managed to catch up with the older man enough to make
him think he’d been right behind all the time.
Passar gave two quick raps on the door, paused, gave another rap, paused again, then
gave one more rap. The door swung inward, and Passar and Jules slid inside into a
darkened room. At first, Jules could not see a thing, his eyes being accustomed to the
glare of the light outside; but as his eyes became adjusted to the gloom he could see
that they were in a storage cellar. Racks of bottles ran the length of the room, with large
stacks of boxes scattered in the aisles between the racks.
“Where are we?” Jules asked.
“Safe,” Passar said ambiguously. “It don’t pay you to know more than that.
Jules took the hint and shut up. The place must be a bar or cocktail lounge, judging from
all the bottles piled around. It was also a hiding place of some repute, because the door
had opened immediately at Passar’s knocks, indicating it was constantly manned. On a
planet where crime was as rife as on Chandakha, criminals would have systems of
hideouts. It was also likely, Jules thought, that they would have to pay a price for their
sanctuary.
“Oh, it’s you, Passar,” said the man who’d opened the door-a large, burly fellow with a
face that had suffered through a thousand barroom brawls. “Funny; I didn’t think we’d be
seeing you for quite some time. We’d heard you’d found another hangout, eh?” He
laughed at his own small joke.
Passar joined him in the laughter. “Well, it seems they didn’t like my company, so they let
me out a little early me and my friend here.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Ah,
the only trouble is that we packed in such a hurry that we neglected to bring our wallets.
“That is a shame,” the doorman agreed solemnly. “Gospodin Tuhlman will have to be
apprized of this.” “Of course,” Passar said as the other man pressed an intercom button.
Turning to Jules, Passar said, “Don’t worry, I know Tuhlman pretty well. He won’t turn us
out. There’s always little odd jobs that need doing. We can trade services for our keep.
Everything’ll be all right.” And he winked at Jules.
CHAPTER 10
Games
Yvette spent most of the day after her talk with Myerson wandering aimlessly around
Vesa, trying to get her thoughts in order. Think, girl, she commanded herself. You’re
behaving like a schoolchild. Don’t let your brain turn to jelly. Think.
There was one weak link in the chain of killings, one spot where the killers would have to
surface-the victim’s hotel. Spaceship tickets could be cashed in over the phone and the
money deposited to a blind bank account, but somebody would have to go to the hotel
and remove the victim’s belongings personally. The killers would have to have the
compliance of some person or persons on the hotel staff to be able to clean out a room
so thoroughly and so quickly. And they would need the assistance of someone to arrange
all the checkouts. Which meant widespread corruption throughout the staffs of each
tourist hotel on the moon.
At 0130 hours that night she walked calmly into the lobby of the Soyuz Hotel, where Dak
had been staying. Even at this hour there were large numbers of people crossing the
lobby or sitting around in chairs reading the local newsrolls. The nightclerk was on duty
behind the desk, sorting some incoming mail.
Yvette strode confidently up to the desk, her bouppelande swirling as she moved. “Were
you on duty here last night?” she asked.
“Yes, I was,” the man replied without looking up from his task.
“I’m told that a man named Dak Lehman checked out exactly twenty-four hours ago.
“It’s possible.
“I’d like to know some more of the details about his departure.
“Gospozha, so many people check in and out that I. . . .” He stopped suddenly as he
looked up from his work. Yvette was holding the stun-gun she had taken from Myerson,
and the muzzle was only ten centimeters from the clerk’s face. The bulk of her body hid
the gun from the view of the rest of the people in the lobby. “What is this, a robbery?.
“No, as I said, I only want some information, and I think you can give it to me. Is there
somewhere private we can go?.
“Th-there’s the office back here,” the clerk said, never taking his eyes off the barrel of
the gun.
“Good; I suggest we go there at once. I also suggest you make no sudden movements. I
am, by nature, a very nervous person, and this stun-gun is set on eight. It would paralyze
you for days at least, with the possibility of permanent crippling. I’m sure you wouldn’t
like that, would you?.
“No, gospozha, not at all,” the man assured her. “Follow me, please.
He led her into a small, well-appointed office behind the front desk. She closed the door
behind them and motioned for him to sit down in the easy chair. When he’d done so, she
took a length of rope out of her purse and proceeded to tie him up quite securely.
“Now that we’ve got the preliminaries out of the way I can explain the rules of the game,”
Yvette said coolly. “I’ll ask you questions and you’ll provide me with answers. You have
three alternatives-you can either lie, remain silent or tell the truth. I also have three
alternatives-I can either accept what you’ve said, kick you where it hurts most or use my
gun. Very simple rules, don’t you agree?.
The clerk was sweating profusely, and could only nod his head in reply.
Yvette had a fourth alternative, namely the nitrobarb that was still concealed in her shoe;
but using it on so insignificant a cog in the killers’ machine would be pointless. One
doesn’t use a blaster to kill gnats.
“All right, then, we’ll begin. Did Dak Lehman actually check out last night?.
The man wet his lips with his tongue. “I can show you on the records that. . . .
“I saw the records yesterday afternoon. They don’t prove a damn thing. You were there,
gospodin. Did Dak Lehman personally check out of this hotel?.
The clerk was on a spot and he knew it. This ferocious young lady meant business. “Not
personally, no. A friend of his checked out for him.
“A friend, eh? Did this friend also go up to the room and clear out all of Gospodin
Lehman’s belongings?” “Yes, and he also paid the bill. Look, he had a key so I thought it