“Yes,” Romis agreed.
The tri-di image snapped off, leaving him looking at a dead-gray screen set into the side of his bed table. Bonus shook his head, as though trying to clear it of the memory of a dream.
It could be a trap, he told himself. One of Kor’s insidious maneuvers. But the Star Watchman was there; he wouldn’t help Kor. Or was it the Watchman? Might it have been an impersonator?
“Trap or not,” Romis said aloud, “we’ll never have another opportunity like this … if it’s real.”
He made up his mind. In three minutes he placed three tri-di caus. The deed was done. He was either going to free Kerak of its monster, or kill several hundred good men—including himself.
He got up from bed, dressed swiftly, and called for an air car. Then he opened the bed-table drawer and took out a palm-sized pistol.
His butler appeared at the door. “Sir, your air car is ready. Will you require a pilot?”
“No,” said Romis, tucking the gun into his belt. “I’ll go alone. If I don’t call you by noon, then … open the vault behind the bed, read the instructions there, and try to save yourself and the other servants. Goodbye.”
Before the stunned butler could say another word, Romis strode past him and out toward the air car.
Kanus was abruptly awakened by a terrified servant. “What is it?” the Leader grumbled, sitting up slowly n the immense circular bed. The sun had barely started to touch the distant snow-capped peaks that were visible through the giant room’s fioor-to-ceiling windows.
“A … a call from the Minister of Intelligence, sir.”