with armed police, their sirens andrevolving lights cleared a path through the dark streets. Neel keptwalking, following the cars now.
The street he wanted to go into was cordoned off.
Showing more than a normal interest would have been a giveaway. He lethimself be hurried past, with no more than a glance down the block, withthe other pedestrians. Cars and men were clustered around a doorway thatNeel felt sure was number 265, his destination. Something was verywrong.
Had Costa walked into a trap--or tripped an alarm? It didn't reallymatter which, either way the balloon had gone up. Neel walked on slowly,painfully aware of his own inadequacy in dealing with the situation. Itwas a time for action--but what action? He hadn't the slightest ideawhere Costa was or how he could be of help to him.
Halfway down the block there was a dark mouth of an alleyway--unguarded.Without stopping to think, Neel turned into it. It would bring himcloser to the building. Perhaps Costa was still trapped in there. Hecould get in, help him.
The back of 265 was quiet, with no hint of the activity on the otherside of the building. Neel had counted carefully and was sure he had theright one. It was completely dark in the unlit alley, but he found arecessed door by touch. The chances were it was locked, but he movedinto the alcove and leaned his weight against it, pulling at the handle,just in case. Nothing moved.
An inch behind his back the alley filled with light, washed with it, eyeburning and strong. His eyes snapped shut, but he forced them openagain, blinking against the pain. There were searchlights at each end ofthe alley, sealing it off. He couldn't get out.
In the instant before the fear hit him he saw the blood spots on theground. There were three of them, large and glistening redly wet. Theyextended in a straight line away from him, pointing towards the gapingentrance of a cellar.
When the lights went out, Neel dived headlong towards the cracked andfilthy pavement. The darkness meant that the police were moving slowlytowards him from both ends of the alley, trapping him in between. Therewas nothing doubtful about the fate of an armed Earthman caught here. Hedidn't care. Neel's fear wasn't gone--he just had not time to thinkabout it. His long shot had paid off and there was still a chance hecould get Costa out of the trap he had let him walk into.
The lights had burned an after-image into his retina. Before it faded hereached out and felt his fingers slide across the dusty ground into apatch of wetness. He scrubbed at it with his sleeve, soaking up theblood, wiping the spot fiercely. With his other hand he pushed togethera pile of dust and dirt, spreading it over the stain. As soon as he wassure the stain was covered he slid forward, groping for the secondtelltale splash.
Time was his enemy and he had no way to measure it. He could have beenlying in the rubble of that alley for an hour--or a second. What was tobe done, had to be done at once without a sound. There were silent,deadly men coming towards him through the darkness.
After the second smear was covered there was a drawn out moment of fearwhen he couldn't find the third and last. His fingers touched itfinally, much farther on than he had expected. Time had certainly runout. Yet he forced himself to do as good a job here as he had with theother two. Only when it was dried and covered did he allow himself toslide forward into the cellar entrance.
Everything was going too fast. He had time for a single deep breathbefore the shriek of a whistle paralyzed him again. Footsteps slappedtowards him and one of the searchlights burned with light. The footstepsspeeded up and the man ran by, close enough for Neel to touch if he hadreached out a hand. His clothing was shapeless and torn, his head andface thick with hair. That was all Neel had time to see before the gunsroared and burned the life from the runner.
Some derelict, sleeping in the alley, who had paid with his life forbeing in the wrong spot at the wrong time. But his death had bought Neela little more time. He turned and looked into the barrel of a gun.
Shock after shock had destroyed his capacity for fear. There was nothingleft that could move him, even his own death. He lookedquietly--dully--at the muzzle of the gun. With slow determination hismind turned over and he finally realized that this time there wasnothing to fear.
"It's me, Adao," he whispered. "You'll be all right now."
"Ahh, it is you--" the voice came softly out of the darkness, the gunbarrel wavered and sank. "Lift me up so I can get at this door. Can'tseem to stand too well any more."
* * * * *
Neel reached down, found Costa's shoulders and slowly dragged him to hisfeet. His eyes were adjusting to the glare above them now, and he couldmake out the gleam of reflected light on the metal in Costa's fingers.The UN man's other hand was clutched tightly to his waist. The gun hadvanished. The metal device wasn't a key, but Costa used it like one. Itturned in the lock and the door swung open under their weight. Neel halfcarried, half dragged the other man's dead weight through it, droppinghim to the floor inside. Before he closed the door he reached down andfelt a great pool of blood outside.
There was no time to do a perfect job, the hard footsteps were coming,just a few yards away. His sleeves were sodden with blood as he blotted,then pushed rubble into the stain. He pulled back inside and the doorclosed with only the slightest click.
"I don't know how you managed it, but I'm glad you found me," Costasaid. There was weakness as well as silence in his whisper.
"It was only chance I found you," Neel said bitterly. "But criminalstupidity on my part that let you walk into this trap."
"Don't worry about it, I knew what I was getting into. But I still hadto go. Spring the trap to see if it _was_ a trap."
"You suspected then that Hengly was--" Neel couldn't finish thesentence. He knew what he wanted to say, but the idea was too unbearableto put into words. Costa had no such compunction.
"Yes. Dear Hengly, graduate of the University and Practitioner ofSocietics. A traitor. A warmonger, worse than any of his predecessorsbecause he knew just what to sell and how to sell it. It's neverhappened before ... but there was always the chance ... the weight ofresponsibility was too much ... he gave in--" Costa's voice had diedaway almost to a whisper. Then it was suddenly loud again, no louderthan normal speaking volume, but sounding like a shout in the secretbasement.
"Neel!"
"It's all right. Take it easy--"
"Nothing is all right--don't you realize that. I've been sending myreports back, so the UN and your Societics people will know how tostraighten this mess out. But Hengly can turn this world upside down andmight even get a shooting-war going before they get here. I'm out of it,but I can tell you who to contact, people who'll help. Hold the k-factordown--"
"That wouldn't do any good," Neel said quietly. "The whole thing is pastthe patch and polish stage now. Besides--I blew the whole works up. Mymachines and records, your--"
"You're a fool!" For the first time there was pain in Costa's voice.
"No. I was before--but not any more. As long as I thought it was anormal problem I was being outguessed at every turn. You must understandthe ramifications of Societics. To a good operator there is nointerrelationship that cannot be uncovered. Hengly would be certain tokeep his eyes open for another field check. Our kind of operation isvery easy to spot if you know where--and how--to look. The act ofgetting information implies contact of some kind, that contact can bedetected. He's had our location marked and has been sitting tight,buying time. But our time ran out when you showed them we were ready tofight back. That's why I destroyed our setup, and cut our trail."
"But ... then we're defenseless! What can we possibly do?"
Neel knew the answer, but he hesitated to put it into words. It would befinal then. He suddenly realized he had forgotten about Costa's wound.
"I'm sorry ... I forgot about your being hurt. What can I do?"
"Nothing," Costa snapped. "I put a field dressing on, that'll do. Answermy question. What is there left? What can be done now?"
"I'll have to kill Hengly. That will set things right until the teamgets h
ere."
"But what good will that accomplish?" Costa asked, trying to see theother man in the darkness of the cellar. "You told me yourself that awar couldn't be averted by assassination. No one individual means thatmuch."
"Only in a normal situation," Neel explained. "You must look at thepower struggle between planets as a kind of celestial chess game. It hasits own rules. When I talked about individuals earlier I was talkingabout pieces on this chessboard. What I'm proposing now is a little moredramatic. I'm going to win the chess game in a slightly more unorthodoxway. I'm going to shoot the other chess player."
There was silence for a long moment, broken only by the soft sigh oftheir breathing. Then