'How can you estimate a man's worth in silence?'

'I have a feeling you're just burning to tell me what bad news it will be if the brotherhood find out we ain't been treating you right.'

'The basic computations that support the city's gambling economy and even its basic stasis and life support all come from the brotherhood.'

'And it might just get cut off if they found we'd messed you up?'

'It's possible.'

'That's why my men aren't beating you to death right now.'

'You stopped them?'

'I stopped them.'

'And what will happen to me now?'

'That depends.'

'On what?'

'You're here to kill?'

'I'm here on an executive task.'

'You're here to kill?'

'Yes.'

Bannion sighed.

'That's more like it. Okay, who?'

'A woman who lives in this town.'

'Why?'

'If her course of action is not terminated, the eventual out-come could be a major disaster.'

'Is this woman a native of Litz?'

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

'A visitor.'

Bannion took out another cigar and lit it.

'That's a relief. Having a human killing machine running round the city would be bad enough, but letting you kill born and bred citizens is out of the question. What's this woman's name?'

'A.A. Catto.'

Bannion stood up, walked over to the door and banged on it with his fist. After a moment, the door opened and a blue-helmeted head appeared.

'Yes, Chief?'

'Get me all we have on a female called A.A. Catto.'

The door closed again. Bannion returned to his chair. Jeb Stuart Ho raised his head slightly.

'Could I sit up now?'

Bannion's eyes narrowed.

'You sure you won't try and jump me?'

'I have no reason to attack you.'

'Okay, sit up, but keep your hands on the slab.'

Jeb Stuart Ho eased himself into a sitting position. He crossed his legs, and Bannion appeared to relax. The door opened, and a uniformed patrolman came in carrying a red plastic folder. He handed it to Bannion, stared hard at Jeb Stuart Ho and then left. Bannion leafed through the file and then looked up at Ho.

'There seems to be no reason why you shouldn't kill her. We don't encourage the slaying of rich out-of-towners, but I sup-pose we have to go along with what the brotherhood wants. You'll have to make it legitimate, though.'

'Legitimate?'

'That's right.'

'How do I do that?'

'You file a claim.'

'A claim?'

Bannion looked at Jeb Stuart Ho as though he was talking to an idiot.

'An Assassin's Claim to Victim, form DY 7134/B. You fill it out. I approve it. We notify the security services. They withdraw any protection they might be renting to the victim and you go in and kill her. Normally the processing of a claim takes about six months.'

'Six months?'

'But in your case we'll do it immediately. Although you'll have to grease a few palms.'

'You mean bribes?'

Bannion grinned.

'A nasty word. Call it operating expenses, and a donation to the Widows' and Orphans' Fund.'

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

'You have my credit card.'

Bannion stood up. He winked.

'That's right. We do.'

Lame Nancy paid off the cab, and walked up to the glass doors of the Orchid House. They slid back as she came within a couple of metres of them, and two armed guardians in purple suits and dark red helmets barred her way.

'You are a non-resident.'

It was more a statement than a question. They were ob-viously clones. Nancy could tell from the way they moved that they were clones. Nancy didn't really like dealing with clones. They were too straightforward. They didn't respond to the tricks and subtleties that worked on normal humans. Nancy took a deep breath and stared back at the faces behind the dark visors.

'I want to see Miss A.A. Catto.'

'Do you have a visitor's pass?'

Nancy shook her head.

'No.'

'Then it is not possible. You'll have to leave.'

'Can't you call her some way? It's very important.'

'Are you known to the lady?'

'No, but I have some particularly vital information for her.'

The clones appeared to consider the matter for a few moments. Then one of them punched out a combination of digits on his wrist communicator. The instrument's tiny screen flickered into life. By craning her neck and peering over the shoulder of one of the guardians, Nancy could just make out the dishevelled image of a young teenage girl. A small tinny voice came from the speaker.

'What?'

'It's the main entrance, Miss Catto. There's a person who claims to have information for you.'

'Does this person claim to know me?'

'No, Miss Catto.'

'I don't want to see anyone. No, wait. What's the person's name?'

The guardian glanced at Nancy.

'What's your name?'

'Just Nancy. That'll do.'

The guardian looked back into the communicator.

'She says her name's Nancy.'

'It's a woman?'

'Yes, Miss Catto.'

'Scan her for me.'

The guardian took a step back and pointed the communica-tor at Nancy. A.A. Catto's voice came from the speaker.

'I'll take a chance on her. Check her for weapons and send her on up.'

The screen died as A.A. Catto broke the connection. The guardian took a small cylindrical detector from his belt.

'The lady says you can go up.'

'I heard.'

'I've got to check you for weapons.'

'I heard that too.'

The guardian pointed the detector at her. A small light came on.

'I'm getting a positive reading.'

Nancy produced a small, pearl-handled needle gun from a hidden pocket. She handed it to the guardian.

'It'll be this.'

'What did you bring it for?'

'A girl has to protect herself.'

'You'll have to leave this with us for as long as you remain in the building.'

'You better hope I'm not attacked.'

'We will be able to defend you.'

'Have you clones developed a sense of humour?'

'I fail to understand.'

The guardian pointed the detector at her again. This time the light didn't come on.

'You're clear, you can go through.'

Lame Nancy bowed extravagantly. One of the guardians led her to the lift and explained how to reach A.A. Catto's apartment. The next thing she knew the doors had closed and she was in a red, softly lit compartment that was rising quickly upwards. The interior was padded with soft cushions and music played. Suddenly Nancy wondered if she had taken on too much. She felt a long way out of her league. The feeling stayed with her when she reached A.A. Catto's door. It was overwhelming. The ride in the lift, the size of the place, the huge drop from the terrace and the cascading tiers of flowers, were so far removed from what she was used to. In the Leader Hotel she could throw her weight about and expect to get her own way. She looked at her reflection in the stain-less steel apartment door. She pulled herself together. She could deal with these people. People were the same every-where. She pressed the stud for attention. It was, after all, places like this that the tricks came from, and she could handle them easily.

'Yes?'

Nancy wasn't certain where the voice came from. There was obviously a speaker hidden somewhere round the door. She could see nothing specific to speak into.

'I've come to see A.A. Catto.'

She felt a little foolish talking to the blank door.

'Wait a minute.'

A small cylinder protruded over the door with what ap-peared to be a lens set in the end. Nancy realized that she was being scanned from inside. She stood perfectly still. The door slid silently back. Behind it was a small compact hallway with matt silver grey walls. A girl leaned against one of them, beside a wall panel with a small screen and a number of control studs. Nancy was surprised at just how young she was. The image in the guardian's communicator had looked like a teenager, but this girl was scarcely more than twelve or thir-teen. Her hair was dishevelled. Her makeup was smudged. There were dark circles under her eyes, and when she pushed herself away from the wall she seemed a little unsteady.

'You must be Nancy.'

Her voice was slurred. She sounded as though she was out of her mind behind something.

'I'm Nancy.'

'You're an interesting-looking creature.'

'I'm not a creature, dear. I'm solid human.'

'You're deformed.'

Nancy's face went very tight.

'Who isn't?'

The girl giggled and smoothed down her silver dress.

'You have to forgive me. I'm loaded. What is it you want?'

'I want to see A.A. Catto.'

'That's me. I'm A.A. Catto. What do you want?'

'I've something to tell you. I think you might find it inter-esting.'

'I find you interesting already. That's a very interesting device you have round your leg.'

Nancy was getting tired of the girl's rambling.

'Are we going to stand here in the hallway for ever?'

A.A. Catto looked round and blinked.

'I was forgetting. I've been awake for a long time. You'd better come in.'

A.A. Catto led her into a large white room. The whiteness was overpowering. Walls, furniture and carpet were all the one colour. There was an immense effect of space, although the room wasn't quite as huge as it appeared. On one wall was a screen, about four metres across and inset three dimensional. It was an ample substitute for a window. The sound was turned off, and two men fought in eerie silence. They were naked except for plate armour that protected their heads, necks, shoulders and arms. They fought in the Heidelberg manner, neither giving ground, both swinging at each other with long heavy sabres. Blood ran down both their bodies. Nancy stood looking at it until A.A. Catto spoke.

'These shows can be very tedious.'

She turned and waved her arm vaguely around the room.

'You'll have to excuse the mess.'

Nancy looked round. Mess was exactly the right word. Chairs and lamps were overturned. Cigar ends had been ground into the carpet. Bottles littered the floor. Empty duramene ampoules had been crushed underfoot. A long low table made from a single block of marble was overflowing with more bottles and dirty glasses. A jar had been knocked over, and loose pills were strewn about. Some of them were decomposing in a pool of spilled booze.

Nancy heard a whimpering noise. It came from the corner of the room. There was a man huddled on the floor. His head was pressed to the wall. He was naked, and his hands were secured by two wide leather bracelets joined by a short length of chain. Near him, some straps and lengths of chain were tossed across a steel and leather butterfly chair. A.A. Catto giggled.

'Take no notice of him. He only does it to attract attention. I've just been exercising him. Why don't you sit down?'

Nancy settled herself in a nest of huge velvet cushions. Her leg in the callipers stuck out in front of her. A.A. Catto didn't seem to be able to take her eyes off it. Nancy felt something sticking in her. She tugged at it and produced a short, plaited leather whip. She held it up.

'You, uh, exercise him a lot?'

A.A. Catto nodded, and settled herself beside Nancy.

'He pisses me off a great deal.'

Nancy grinned.

'Men can do that.'

'Right.'

A.A. Catto reached out and touched the black steel calliper.

'This is an incredible thing.'

Nancy sat very still and said nothing. A.A. Catto smiled at her, and ran her index finger round the damascening on the steel.

'I don't like men. They can be very tiresome. Do you like men, uh, Nancy?'

'Not a lot.'

'I have a direct link with this one's nervous system. I can make him feel whatever I want.'

Nancy looked impressed.

'That must have been expensive.'

A.A. Catto was puzzled.

'Expensive? I've never thought about it.'

Her eyes went vacant. Nancy waited. After a few minutes they flashed back to life again.

'I've got to take something to keep me going.'

She scrambled to her feet, and rummaged about on the marble table.

'I can't find any duramene. You don't have any, do you?'

Nancy shook her head.

'I don't. We don't get a lot of it down our way.'

'Too bad.'

A.A. Catto picked up a handful of pills and inspected them.

'I suppose these will hold me together for a while.'

She put half a dozen of them in her mouth and took a swallow from the nearest glass. Then she returned to the cushions.

'What did you want to talk to me about?'

'I heard your name today.'

'That must have been nice.'

'It was at the Leader Hotel.'

'What's the Leader Hotel?'

'It's a broken down fire trap on the other side of town. I keep a string of girls there.'

'What do they do for you?'

'They work for me.'

'That seems very practical. Do you think I'm pretty?'

'Yes, very pretty.'

'Go on.'

Nancy was beginning to become used to the way A.A. Catto's mind jumped around. She went back to her story.

'Two men were looking for you.'

A.A. Catto laughed.

'Men are always looking for me.'

'One of them looked like an assassin. A professional.'

'You believe he might want to kill me?'

'It's possible.'

'Why would anyone want to kill me?'

Nancy shrugged.

'I don't know, but it sure seemed like this guy and his part-ner had a contract for you.'

She jerked her thumb towards the corner.

'Maybe he wants you dead?'

A.A. Catto looked at her in disbelief.

'He wouldn't dare, besides, he hasn't had the chance. He's been with me all the time. He doesn't leave my sight.'

'I really don't know. Maybe I was wrong. I just had this feeling.'

A.A. Catto ran her fingers down the calliper again.

'And you came to warn me. That was very sweet o,f you.'

'It was nothing.'

'I still can't understand why anyone should want to kill me. I'm beautiful. You do think I'm beautiful, don't you?'

'Sure, I think you're beautiful. I think you're very beautiful.'

'If I was one of your girls, would you make me work for you?'

Nancy flashed with horror at the problems this dopefiend could cause if she was a working hooker. She smiled quickly.

'Honey, if you were working for me, I'd keep you all to myself.'

'Kiss me, Nancy.'

Nancy leaned over and kissed A.A. Catto in a way that wouldn't commit her to anything. A.A. Catto's arms im-mediately snaked around her, and her tongue darted into Nancy's mouth. She seemed almost desperate. She clung to Nancy, kissing her face and licking her ear. Nancy quickly responded, partly enjoying it, partly wanting to do the thing right. After a few minutes A.A. Catto moved away. She quickly squirmed out of her silver dress, and stood up for Nancy to inspect her. All she had on were her silver boots. She spread her feet wide apart and put her hands on her hips.

'Do you like my body?'

Nancy stretched out a hand and stroked the inside of A.A. Catto's thigh.

'I think your body's wonderful.'

A.A. Catto crouched down beside Nancy, and touched one of her small hard breasts. She plucked at the white material of Nancy's one piece outfit.

'How do you take this off?'

'You can't take it off completely.'

Nancy unclipped her silver belt and let it fall back on the cushions. Then she pointed to a small mother-of-pearl stud at her neck and kissed A.A. Catto on the cheek.

'If you press that, the whole thing splits down the front.'

A.A. Catto extended a long thin finger and touched the stud. The suit split open down the entire length of Nancy's body. A.A. Catto began caressing her skin, and Nancy sighed deeply. She reached out, and began to fondle A.A. Catto's breasts. A.A. Catto traced a path with her fingers down Nancy's body from her collar bone to the white fuzz of her pubic hair. Then she followed it with her tongue. As she found Nancy's clitoris, Nancy gave a groan of real pleasure and began to writhe her hips. A.A. Catto looked up from between Nancy's legs.

'Was that nice?'

Nancy sighed.

'Oh, really.'

A.A. Catto squirmed round until the gap between her own legs was presented to Nancy.

'Now do the same to me.'

For a long while the two women aroused and teased each other with their mouths and tongues. Each time the feeling became too strong one would clutch spasmodically at the other's legs. At last, A.A. Catto surfaced.

'This is very nice, but I'd like to get further.'

Nancy opened her eyes. There were beads of perspiration on her upper lip.

'What do you suggest?'

A.A. Catto grinned.

'I have some toys that might help us.'

Nancy ran her tongue up A.A. Catto's thigh.

'Why don't you find them?'

A.A. Catto jumped up with a laugh. She looked helplessly round the room.

'I know they're here somewhere. I saw them when I was torturing Reave.'

Nancy propped herself up on one elbow.

'Aren't you worried that someone might be trying to kill you?'

A.A. Catto paused from rummaging about in the litter that covered the room.

'I'll probably worry terribly when I start to come down, but right now I can't quite believe it. Anyway, it'd be very hard for anyone to get me here. We're surrounded by guards.'

Nancy sank back into the cushions as A.A. Catto went on searching. Things were working out very differently from the way she had expected. When she'd first thought of coming to the Orchid House it had been for a quick bribe. It seemed to have gone a lot further than that. Her deliberations were in-terrupted by a buzzing from the wall screen. On the screen, one of the swordsmen was, at last, delivering the finishing blows to the other. A.A. Catto moved over to it, and flicked the control to the communication channel. The huge head and shoulders of a guardian filled the screen. It completely dwarfed A.A. Catto. She took an involuntary step back.

'What do you want?'

'Miss Catto?'

'Yes.'

'I regret to inform you that our organization can no longer offer you protection of any form. This withdrawal of service applies to all guard and security organizations in the city.'

A.A. Catto looked at the screen in bewilderment.

'You mean I'm not protected?'

'That's correct.'

'And nobody will protect me?'

'That's right, Miss Catto.'

'For god's sake, why?'

'You are the subject of an Assassin's Claim to Victim.'

'What the hell's that?'

'In simple terms, a professional assassin has applied for permission to kill you, and permission has been granted.'

'But why?'

'I have no information on that.'

'Who is this assassin?'

'The claim was filed in the name of Jeb Stuart Ho. He described himself as an executive of the brotherhood.'

A.A. Catto looked round desperately.

'Isn't there anything you can do to help me?'

'Nothing, Miss Catto. All we are allowed to do is give you formal notification of the claim. I must terminate this con-versation.'

A.A. Catto shook her head helplessly.

'I don't understand. What have I ever done to these people?'

'I have to terminate this conversation right now.'

The screen went blank. A.A. Catto felt terribly cold. She looked imploringly at Nancy.

'Did you hear that?'

'It's worse than I thought.'

'What can I do?'

'We'd better get out of here.'

'Where can I go?'

'You could come to the Leader. You might be safe there until we organized something. You got plenty of credit?'

'Unlimited. If they haven't taken that away.'

Nancy stood up and began fastening her suit.

'They can't take that away.'

'Thank god.'

Nancy began to organize. She was mentally kicking herself for becoming so involved. The only consolation was that there might be some rich pickings, in it. At least the assassin didn't have carte blanche to kill her.

'You'd better throw anything you need into a bag. Oh, and wake him up.'

She pointed at Reave.

'We've got to move fast. He may be on his way here right now.'

A.A. Catto hurried across to where Reave lay huddled, and kicked him. He whimpered and tried to push himself further into the corner.

'Please, I couldn't take any more.'

A.A. Catto snapped at him impatiently.

'Get up. This is important.'

Her voice softened.

'Please get up. I forgive you for now. There's someone com-ing to kill me. We've got to get out of here. Please, Reave. Get up and help me.'

Reave got painfully to his feet.

Billy Oblivion lay on his bed feeling better than he'd felt in weeks. Darlene had finally started to make a real effort, there was a bit of credit stacked up, and all was right with the world. The only thing that troubled him slightly was the way Dar-lene had gone so militantly to work. She seemed to be turning tricks every hour of the day she could. Billy couldn't figure out what had got into her, but while it lasted, he didn't try very hard.

Billy wasn't trying very hard at anything. After a handful of dormax and two-thirds of a bottle of tequila he didn't have a worry in the world. A couple of times he'd thought about getting up, going down to the desk and getting the desk clerk to reconnect the room screen. Even that seemed to be too much trouble when he looked at it from inside the pleasant haze of booze and sleeping pills. As long as they held, out, Billy could think of nothing more pleasant than to sprawl on the bed and examine the interesting cracks and patterns on the ceiling.

The building trembled slightly as the lift was set in motion. Billy grinned to himself. One day someone would step into the Leader Hotel's lift, push a button, and the whole build-ing would fall down. Billy giggled, and took another shot of tequila. Somebody was flat picking an amplified guitar some-where down the hall. Billy tapped his toe in time to it. It really seemed a pleasant way to pass the time. The lift came to a halt at Billy's floor. Billy listened, he wondered if it might be Darlene. He held up the tequila bottle. There was only about an inch left. If it was her, she could go down to the desk for another one. A thought suddenly got through to him. She might have a trick with her. If she did, that would mean he'd have to get out of the room. He'd end up in the foyer feeding drinks to the goddamn desk clerk. That was the only trouble with Darlene's new attitude to work, it was a drag having to scoot in and out of the room all the time. Maybe if she kept on working the way she was, they could get two rooms, one for living in, and one for business.

A key rattled in the door. It was Darlene. Billy propped him-self up on one elbow. The door opened. Darlene stood in the doorway. She was wearing her red working outfit. Billy grinned at her.

'You look good enough to eat.'

Darlene flounced across the room.

'I've had enough people eating at me. I feel like I was a meal.'

She pulled off her red boots and threw them across the room.

'Can't you do anything but lay about all day?'

Billy knew he really ought to get mad and hit her. Darlene was getting completely out of line. The trouble was that he just couldn't get it together. He let his head fall back on to the pillow.

'I really don't need this.'

Darlene was pulling off her stockings.

'You think I need it? You're just turning into a bum. There was a time when I used to feel good walking around for you. I didn't mind turning tricks, I thought we were going to get someplace.'

Billy groaned.

'How can we get anyplace? We're non-people. We don't have credit.'

'We ain't going to get anyplace if you keep getting too loaded to walk.'

Darlene pulled her red dress over her head, and carefully folded it over a chair. Billy focused on her. She looked really good. She was naked apart from the garter belt that still hung round her hips. Her black skin colour contrasted sharply with the thin strip of red. He patted the bed beside him.

'Honey, don't give me a hard time. Come on over here and relax.'

Darlene pulled open the door to the tiny shower. She turned on the water and took off the garter belt. Before she stepped inside she looked down at Billy.

'If you think I feel like fucking you after turning five tricks in as many hours, you better think again.'

The door of the shower banged behind her. Billy sighed, picked up the tequila bottle and swallowed about half of what was left. Things with Darlene were getting out of hand. He repeated the phrase to himself a few times. He liked the ring of it. His brain was too fuzzy for any kind of concentrated thought. When he was straight he'd work it out. One thing was sure. It couldn't go on like this. It was a determined kind of phrase. Billy liked it. He was still repeating it to himself when Darlene came out of the shower.

The flash of Darlene naked and dripping wet was the kind of thing that stopped Billy leaving her. He shook his head. That was the trouble with dormax. They made you horny, but left you incapable of making the effort to do anything about it. Darlene was busily towelling herself. Billy raised his head.

'Are you going out again?'

'Maybe. I don't know yet.'

'You don't want to overdo it. Why don't you stay up here with me for a while?'

Darlene flung the towel on the floor.

'For Christ's sake don't start that again.'

'Start what again?'

'I told you before. I don't want to know right now. For one thing, I'm sore.'

Billy subsided again. Darlene pulled on a dirty housecoat.

'If you want something to do, you could go down to Nancy's. You might find yourself some work down there.'

'You been hanging round with Nancy? You know I don't like you getting in with her.'

'Afraid I might go to work for her?'

'No, it's just . . .'

'Listen, Billy. I don't care what you like. Nancy's useful. She knows what's happening. She passes on tips to me.'

Billy became sullen.

'I bet she does.'

'If you got yourself down there, you might pick up a fair bit of credit.'

'Why? What's happening?'

'I don't know for sure. She's getting a team of guys together for something. She asked if you could handle a gun.'

'What did you tell her?'

'I said I didn't know.'

'You know I can handle a gun.'

'You can't handle walking half the time.'

Billy struggled to sit up.

'Listen, you bitch. I killed a man in a shoot-out when I was on the road with Reave. Shit, we got involved in a whole fucking war.'

Darlene turned on the hot plate under the coffee pot.

'So you say.'

'Damn it, it's the truth.'

'Even if it is, there's no saying you could do it now. You've gone downhill ever since I met you.'

Billy scowled.

'I can do it.'

'Go do it then.'

'I will.'

Billy swung his legs over the side of the bed. His stomach lurched, and he had to sit still for a while. Darlene laughed.

'See the fearless gunman.'

'Shut the fuck up.'

Billy had another try at standing up. He stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly.

'I need some duramene.'

Darlene snorted contemptuously.

'Since when could we ever afford duramene? You live in a dream world, Billy boy.'

Billy looked round helplessly.

'I need something.'

'We don't have anything.'

'Some funaids might help.'

Darlene shook her head.

'They'll just make you stupid.'

'I've got to get myself straight.'

'A shower and a lot of coffee would take care of you as well as anything else.'

Billy started to fumble with the fastenings on his shirt.

'Why do you always want me to do things the hard way?'

'I like to see you suffer.'

For the next hour Darlene filled Billy with black coffee, pushed him into alternately hot and cold showers and massaged the back of his neck. He was sick a couple of times, but by the end of the period he was zipped into his best suit and walking steadily, if a little stiffly, towards the lift. He rode down to Nancy's floor and walked down the corri-dor. He paused for a moment in front of her door, then stretched out his hand and knocked.

'Who is it?'

'Billy.'

'Hold on.'

There was the rattle of security bolts being shot back, and the door opened just wide enough for Nancy to peer out. It was still secured by a chain lock. She confirmed it was really Billy, and then shut it again. He heard the sound of the chain being removed. Before letting Billy in Nancy looked carefully up and down the corridor. Billy wondered what could be going on that merited so much caution. The room was crowded with at least half the hoods who hung round the hotel. Billy nodded to a few of them. Most of them seemed to be armed, and everyone had the air of wait-ing for something. On the far side of the room, setting cross-legged on the bed, was a young girl in a metallic blue one-piece jump suit. Beside her was a man. Between them they produced a flash of violent recognition in Billy.

'Reave!'

'Billy!'

'How are you, my man?'

His one-time partner looked thinner and more haggard than when they had parted company in the city of Con-Lee, when Reave had stayed with A.A. Catto, and Billy had continued with his wanderings. Reave clutched at Billy's arm.

'It's good to see you.'

'You too, what's been happening?'

Reave frowned.

'We're in a bit of trouble.'

'You and A.A. Catto?'

'Yeah, there's . . .'

Before Reave could tell his story, Nancy interrupted him.

'Why don't you leave the reunion till later? It seems like everyone's here, so we might as well all hear the tale at once.'

There were murmurs of assent from the men grouped around the room. It seemed as if nobody really knew why Nancy had got them up there. She stood in the middle of the room and slowly turned round.

'You'll be pleased to know that each of you has been left a day's credit at the front desk.'

There was general approval for this statement. Only one of the men didn't join in the loud reception. His name was Monk. He was a thickset individual. He wore a collarless striped shirt, a black waistcoat, and his face was half hidden by a light grey fedora. Under one armpit a heavy, vicious-looking needle gun hung in a patent Speed-Draw shoulder holster. He leaned forward in his seat and looked suspiciously at Nancy.

'What are we supposed to do for it?'

Nancy grinned.

'Nothing. Nothing at all.'

Monk shook his head.

'I don't get it.'

'It's a token of goodwill. Look at it as a payment for coming here.'

'Seems to me that there's a lot of credit behind whatever this thing is you're cooking up.'

Nancy nodded.

'You can believe that.'

There was a chorus of questions. Nancy raised her hands and waited until they subsided.

'I'll get straight down to the reason I've got you all up here. I need to put a team together. This lady here . . .'

She pointed to the girl on the bed.

'Her name's A.A. Catto, and this team's being hired to protect her. There's a couple of guys in the city who are going to try a hit on her. We're going to stop them.'

Monk interrupted.

'Why can't she just hire a team of guardians? It sounds as though she can afford it.'

'They won't deal with her.'

Monk raised a slow eyebrow.

'There's only one reason I can think of why the guardians won't protect her.'

Nancy nodded.

'I ain't going to hide anything. There's a claim out on her.'

There was an immediate ripple of conversation. Monk seemed to be slipping into the role of spokesman for all the men present. He minutely examined his fingernails. There was a pause while everyone waited to see what he would say. He sucked in his breath and looked up.

'That means that the guys who are after her are profes-sionals.'

Nancy grinned.

'They looked that way.'

'You've seen them?'

'They came here yesterday asking a lot of questions.'

Billy looked up sharply, but said nothing. Monk went on voicing the men's queries.

'What did they look like?'

'One was tall and thin, dressed in black and carrying a bundle of hardware. The other was shorter. Seemed to be only carrying a set of knives.'

She picked up a bundle of papers and began to pass them round.

'I put the descriptions down on these fax-sheets'

There were a few moments of silence while everyone in the room studied the papers. Then Monk tapped his with his forefinger.

'It says here that the tall one's name is Jeb Stuart Ho.'

Nancy nodded.

'That's right.'

'Sounds to me like a brotherhood name.'

'Could be.'

'So you seriously expect us to try stopping a brotherhood killer?'

'I don't suggest we wait for them to come. I figure we should try and get them first.'

Monk shook his head.

'You got to be crazy.'

Nancy planted her hands on her hips and looked down at him.

'There's a credit card in it for the one who gets Ho, a card of his own.'

Everyone began to talk at once. A credit card meant re-instatement in full. It was the only kind of prize that might tempt anyone to tackle a professional assassin. Monk grinned.

'What do the others get?'

'A month's credit. That's for each man who joins us. There's nothing else to tell. Who's going to join us?'

The men all looked at each other. A couple shook their heads and sheepishly left. The remainder stayed put. Monk stood up.

'Looks like you got your team. All we need is weapons.'

Nancy nodded towards a pile of gift-wrapped packages in the corner.

'We stopped at the gun store on the way up here. There's a half dozen riot guns, ammunition, some hand guns and gren-ades. We've got enough weapons.'

Monk grinned.

'You think of everything.'

Then Nancy got down to the final details. The team was split into two groups. One would stay at the Leader and guard A.A. Catto, the other would move out into the city and start circulating the description of Ho to the beggars, winos and hustlers. Once he'd been located they'd move in for the kill. Billy found himself drafted into the hotel group. He wasn't really concentrating on the planning. While it was going on he moved close to Reave, and spoke to him in a low voice.

'I know who the other guy is. Ho's partner.'

Reave looked at him in surprise.

'Who?'

'The Minstrel Boy.'

'You're kidding.'

'I'm not, I saw him when they came here looking for A.A. Catto.'

'Did he see you?'

Billy shook his head.

'I ducked into the lift. I didn't want him to see me. I guess I was ashamed or something.'

Reave said nothing. Billy looked at him urgently.

'What are we going to do?'

'We can't let him kill A.A. Catto.'

'But we can't let him be gunned down. He got us out of real trouble a couple of limes.'

Reave ran his fingers through his hair.

'I don't know what we can do except wait and see. If we tell anyone now, it could put us in a real awkward position.'

Billy glanced at A.A. Catto.

'But you're with her. She won't let anything happen to you.'

Reave avoided his eyes.

'I wouldn't altogether count on that.'

Billy nodded unhappily.

'I guess we'll just have to wait and see.'

The Minstrel Boy was drunk. He wasn't quite at the point of falling over, but he was certainly having trouble getting up the steps of the Club 93. He leaned heavily on the girl beside him. Although he couldn't quite remember her name, he was happier than he'd been since Jeb Stuart Ho had rudely dragged him from his comfortable tank at Wainscote. It was his first day of living it up on Ho's credit, and he was making the most of it. He grinned at the girl.

'Think we should make it back to my hotel, honey?' The first thing the Minstrel Boy had done after he'd left Ho was to check into the Albert Speer. The Albert Speer was generally considered to be the best hotel in Litz. The girl looked up at him with a quick professional smile.

'I don't think you're capable of much else.'

The Minstrel Boy's grin widened.

'You'd be surprised what I'm capable of.'

'I'm surprised you're still capable of standing up.'

Still holding him steady, she signalled to the 93's doorman to get them a cab. While they were waiting for it, he took the opportunity to have a better look at her. The pick-up had been so fast he hadn't really had a chance to study her. She'd made a beeline for him almost immediately he staggered into the club and started tossing his credit about. She'd seemed okay in the dim light of the club, but up on the street, the blemishes were inclined to show.

In fact, she stood up to the examination very well. Her growth had been halted around fourteen or fifteen. She had the turned-up nose, large eyes and cute features of the most popular clone hostess model, although from the way she moved and talked, he knew she was a normal human. Her skin was done in a pleasant rainbow blend of light pastel shades. Her hair was a mass of waist-length, dark blue ring-lets that matched her short tight tube dress and lace-up boots. The Minstrel Boy congratulated himself. He'd really done rather well for one so drunk.

The cab pulled up, and it took both the girl and the door-man to get him safely inside. If the Minstrel Boy hadn't suffered so much difficulty in negotiating himself into the back of the cab, he might have noticed the beggar who took one look at him, started, jumped up from his pitch on the kerb and hurried off down the street.

The cab ride took longer than originally intended. Halfway to the Albert Speer, the Minstrel Boy decided that he needed a bunch of duramene to burn off some of the alcohol in his brain, and he made the driver make a detour to a drugstore. Once they got there, he suffered an attack of paranoia and refused to get out of the cab. He'd convinced himself that if anyone saw him buying anything as expensive as duramene he was quite likely to be mugged as he walked back to the cab. After some haggling, the driver was persuaded to go.

They started back to the hotel once again, but after they'd only gone a couple of blocks he stopped the cab again. He'd decided he needed a shot to help himself get across the hotel foyer. As he fumbled the ampoule into the injection unit, the girl began to exhibit noticeable signs of impatience, but when he offered her a shot for herself, they quickly receded. By the time they reached the hotel they were laughing and talka-tive. The Minstrel Boy was hardly any more coherent, but the duramene had made him a good deal more mobile.

They stopped for a moment and stared up to the soaring baroque facade of black and red glass. The girl squeezed the Minstrel Boy's arm.

'You really like to live well, don't you?'

The Minstrel Boy grinned and nodded. He was still hoping he would find out her name without having to ask.

'You'd better believe it.'

They crossed the foyer, stepped into the lift, and rode up to the Minstrel Boy's thirty-seventh-floor suite without any difficulty. Immediately they were inside the girl grabbed the Minstrel Boy and kissed him very hard. She thrust the whole length of her body against him, squirming slightly and dart-ing her tongue in and out of his mouth. When she suddenly released him, he took a step back and dropped into a chair.

'Unh.'

The girl looked down at him.

'What's the matter with you? Don't you like me?'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

'How should I know? I only met you a while ago, and ain't been able to see straight most of the time.'

The girl began to look angry.

'You don't take a lot of trouble to be charming.'

'That's true.'

'I expect you can't even remember my name.'

'That's true too.'

'You're goddamn impossible.'

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

'Impossible.'

The girl went red.

'Well fuck you, Jack.'

She turned on her heel and began heading for the door. The Minstrel Boy turned in his chair, and called after her.

'Hey!'

She turned in front of the door.

'What?'

'I'd really like to fuck you.'

The girl leaned back against the door and gave a half smile.

'You would, would you?'

'Sure.'

'Am I supposed to be flattered?'

'You could be, whatever turns you on. I could pay you if that's what you want.'

'I'm not a hooker.'

'So you're up here for kicks.'

'That's what I thought when I came here.'

'So come on over here and get some.'

'I'm not so sure. You really don't try very hard.'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

'What would you like me to do?'

'You could ask me my name.'

'Okay. What's your name?'

'Liza.'

'Liza, hey? Liza from Litz.'

'Don't be cute. Do something else.'

'What?'

'You choose. Think for yourself.'

The Minstrel Boy suddenly sat up in his chair. He grabbed the phone. The girl came and stood beside his chair looking puzzled.

'What are you doing?'

'You'll see. Hello, room service? Listen, send up a couple of bottles of champagne — how the hell should I know what kind? The best kind, and a couple of pounds of strawberries, right, oh — and a large cut glass bowl. Yeah, right.'

He hung up. Liza looked disappointed.

'Is that the best you can do? Just start drinking again?'

The Minstrel Boy smiled at her crookedly.

'Who said anything about drinking?'

'But I thought . . .'

'You want to use your imagination.'

He mimicked the girl's Litz accent. She looked annoyed.

'So what else can you do with champagne?'

The Minstrel Boy grinned broadly.

'First of all you take the glass bowl, you put the straw-berries in it. Then you pour in the champagne, and mush it all together, until you've got this bowlful of expensive goo.'

'And what do you do with it?'

The Minstrel Boy's grin broadened.

'We take off our clothes, spread the mush all over each other's bodies, and then we lick it off again.'

Liza smiled.

'Sounds delicious, if messy.'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

'The hotel takes care of the mess.'

She began to drift round the room, looking at the things that the Minstrel Boy had left strewn about. Before getting drunk, he had been on a buying spree. She picked up a hand-carved guitar.

'Do you play this?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'Uh-uh, I just drop them from great heights and watch them break.'

'You're a funny bastard.'

She picked up his belt of knives.

'What are these?'

A hard edge came into his voice.

'Put those down.'

Liza dropped them. She said nothing. She wandered around for a little while longer, and then walked slowly and slightly dramatically towards the Minstrel Boy. He sensed it might be the start of a display. He liked displays. He thought of himself as something of a connoisseur.

'I'm glad you can be obscene.'

The Minstrel Boy frowned.

'Obscene?'

'The strawberries and champagne.'

'Aah.'

Liza put both her hands to the back of her neck.

'We could start being obscene right now.'

The dress undid itself and dropped to the floor. Liza stood in front of him, naked except for her boots.

'Do you like what you see?'

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

'Sure, love it.'

The girl looked a little put out. She squatted crosslegged at his feet.

'Aren't you going to take your clothes off?'

'In a moment.'

'What do I have to do?'

'Use your imagination.'

The girl slowly stretched out her legs on either side of the Minstrel Boy's feet. Slowly she lay back on the ground. The Minstrel Boy raised one of his boots and covered her pubic hair with it. He noticed that she had it dyed the same blue as the hair on her head. He moved his foot with a circular motion, gradually increasing the pressure. Liza gave a soft laugh.

'You've got an odd imagination.'

The Minstrel Boy raised an eyebrow.

'Who, me?'

He was just stretching out a hand to touch her when there was a knock on the door.

'Who is it?'

'Room service.'

He didn't bother to look round. He just went on teasing the girl with his foot. He ignored the sound of the door opening. Then hands grabbed him roughly round the neck.

'What the hell . . .?'

It all seemed to happen at once. The Minstrel Boy was struck hard across the face. The chair toppled over on its side and he fell with it. He saw three men standing over him. Liza screamed and jumped to her feet. One of the men grabbed her by the wrist. Another kicked at the Minstrel Boy. As he rolled over he saw a fourth man dragging an unconscious bellhop into the room. Liza went on screaming. The man hold-ing her, a thickset individual in a grey fedora, slapped her hard across the face.

'Shut your mouth, honey.'

Liza continued to struggle.

'Take your goddamn hands off me.'

She found a heavy, vicious needle gun pressed beneath her chin. The man hissed at her from between clenched teeth.

'Make another sound and I'll rip your face off.'

Liza stood very still. One of the other men was systemati-cally kicking the Minstrel Boy. He glanced at the one in the fedora.

'Do we kill him now, Monk?'

Monk shook his head.

'No, I want to see if he knows where his partner is. That's the one that scores the prize.'

The chair was set back on its feet. The Minstrel Boy was hauled into it. One of the men, a small sallow one with a livid scar on his cheek, ripped the cord out of the phone, The Minstrel Boy's arms were dragged back behind the chair, and his thumbs were tied together with a length of wire. Liza was also tied up. Another length of flex secured her wrists, and a third strapped her ankles together. Still naked, she was left in a corner as the four hoods directed all their attention towards the Minstrel Boy. A sense of something almost like calm settled over him. There was nothing he could do except sit there and take it. All he could hope for was to come up with what they wanted as quickly as possible. That was the only way he could see to avoid getting hurt. He watched the four hoods as they gathered round him. The one called Monk leaned forward and breathed into his face.

'Okay, where's your partner?'

'What partner?'

Smash! The one called Monk punched him hard in the face. They all stood round and waited while his head cleared. Monk grinned down at him.

'Okay. Let's try it again. Where's your partner?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

Smash! The Minstrel Boy was aware of a warm sensation, a trickle of blood running down from the side of his mouth. The telephone cord had cut off all feeling from his thumbs.

'Your partner?'

'Listen . . .'

Smash!

As the Minstrel Boy's senses came back to him, he decided to try another tack.

'If you told me what partner you were talking about, I might be able to help you.'

'Jeb Stuart Ho. You know Jeb Stuart Ho?'

'He's not my partner.'

Smash!

The Minstrel Boy's head reeled. There had to be some way out of this.

'He wasn't my partner.'

Monk drew back his fist. The Minstrel Boy thought quickly.

'He wasn't my partner. I was just working for him.'

Monk sneered.

'Working as what?'

'A guide.'

'A guide?'

The Minstrel Boy took a deep breath.

'I'm one of the ones who know where they are.'

The four men fell silent. Two of them took a step back. The legend of the guides seemed to stop them in their tracks. Monk was the first to recover.

'You worked for Jeb Stuart Ho?'

The Minstrel Boy nodded painfully.

'Sure.'

'And you guided him here?'

'Right.'

'So where is he?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'I just don't know.'

Monk turned savagely to his three sidekicks.

'Work him over for a while. He might remember some-thing.'

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle as they moved to-wards him. His voice almost reached a scream.

'Hold it, hold it.'

Monk looked down at him. He motioned to the other two.

'Wait a bit. Maybe he's going to tell us something.'

The Minstrel Boy sagged in the chair.

'I don't know exactly where he is, but I might be able to find out.'

'How?'

'How do I know you won't kill me once I've found out what you want to know?'

Monk grinned.

'You don't.'

'So why should I do it for you?'

Monk gestured to the other three hoods. They started to-wards the Minstrel Boy. Monk held up his hand and they halted. His smile was ugly.

'You can do it the easy way, or you can do it the hard way. It's your choice.'

The Minstrel Boy nodded.

'I've always preferred the easy way.'

'Okay. How do we find him?'

'Do I have to stay tied up?'

'How do we find him?'

'You don't find him.'

Monk drew back his fist. The Minstrel Boy went quickly on.

'I find him.'

Monk's eyes narrowed.

'What are you trying to pull?'

'I've got a credit card on his account. The bank will know the last location he used his card.'

'So where's the card?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'It's not as easy as that. They'll want to be able to identify me on a vision link before they give out the information. I'm the only one who can do it. You'll have to untie me, and clean me up a bit.'

The Minstrel Boy even managed a lopsided bruised grin.

'You'll even have to take me down to the lobby.'

He nodded towards the service phone with its ripped out handset.

'Your gorillas don't think ahead.'

Monk looked at the other three. They all said nothing for a while. Then he shrugged reluctantly.

'Maybe he's telling the truth.'

The one with the scar looked sideways at the Minstrel Boy.

'And maybe he's just playing for time. I figure we should work him over a bit more — just so we can be sure.'

'That's what you figure, Wormo?'

The hood with the scar nodded. Monk grabbed him by the front of his jacket.

'Leave the figuring to me, okay? When you start trying to figure, your nasty inclinations usually get in the way.'

He pushed him away.

'Now untie him, and take him into the bathroom and get him cleaned up.'

Wormo reluctantly did as he was told. When the Minstrel Boy emerged from the bathroom, Monk pointed the needle gun at his chest.

'We're going down to the lobby now.'

He snapped his fingers at Wormo.

'Give me that coat off the bed.'

Wormo picked up a fur coat off a chair. It was one that the Minstrel Boy had bought during his spending spree. Monk draped it over his arm so it hid the gun.

'This'll be pointed at your back all the time. If you try anything I'll cut you in half.'

The Minstrel Boy nodded. They started towards the door. Wormo was the only one who hesitated. Monk half turned.

'What's your problem?'

'What about the girl and the bellhop?'

'Leave them. The cleaners'll find them.'

Wormo licked his lips.

'Can't I have them? The girl at least. I'll take care of her and catch up with you later.'

He looked at Monk expectantly.

Monk shrugged.

'Stay here and do what you want. You'll be finished with the job, that's all.'

Wormo looked disappointedly back at Liza, hesitated for a moment and then reluctantly followed the others. He spotted the Minstrel Boy's belt of knives. He picked them up.

'Can I take these?'

Monk nodded impatiently.

'Take what you want but grab it fast.'

The Minstrel Boy's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. With Monk right behind him he started walking towards the lift.

In one corner of the hotel foyer were a cluster of com-booths. The Minstrel Boy and his escort came out of the lift. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention. They crossed the foyer, threading their way between the flowering plants, glass tables and Bauhaus chairs. They attracted no interest at all. The Minstrel Boy looked round. He wondered what would happen if he tried to run. Monk was right behind him. He imagined the stream of steel needles slicing into his back. His skin crawled and he felt sick. He kept on walking.

The Minstrel Boy seated himself in one of the plastic blisters. Monk positioned himself in the entrance so he could see and hear everything. The gun under the coat was still pointed at him. The Minstrel Boy took the credit card from his pocket. He punched out the coordinates of the bank. A stiff-collared clerk appeared on the screen.

'Can I help you?'

'I wish to know the location of Jeb Stuart Ho. I hold a temporary card on his account.'

'Place the card in the transmission slot and your hand on the scanner.'

The Minstrel Boy did as he was told and the screen clouded. Monk leaned over and hissed at him.

'What's going on? Is this some kind of double cross?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'Just wait.'

The screen cleared and the card dropped from the receiver slot. The clerk smiled a thin smile.

'You're in luck, sir. Brother Ho has just paid for a meal at Fidel's Burgers on Authority Plaza.'

The screen went blank. The Minstrel Boy looked up at Monk.

'There's your man.'

Monk nodded grimly.

'That only leaves the question of what we do with you.'

Jeb Stuart Ho took one bite out of the Vegie-Wonder and put it down. The brotherhood were not meat eaters. He had passed Fidel's Regular, Super and the Triple Deck Scrumbo, and picked out the Vegie-Wonder. It was advertised in the menu as a 'non-meat vegetarian whole-food delight'. It was nasty. The so-called vegetables were sheets of recycled cellu-lose, die-stamped into crude leaf shapes and dyed a garish green. Jeb Stuart Ho suspected that the burgers were made of the same material, only dyed brown.

He pushed away his meal and looked through the plate glass front of Fidel's Burgers. He had walked through to Authority Plaza after going to the Orchid House. The guard-ians had told him A.A. Catto had left. He had been hungry, but the main reason he had come into the place was to attempt to think about his next move. Even this was denied him. Hard metallic music blared from speakers all over the hamburger joint, and jagged patterns of light danced on the walls. The other customers in the place seemed to be munching con-tentedly.

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head and took his credit card from the pay slot. He stood up and made his way out of Fidel's Burgers. The pavement was almost deserted. In the centre of the square was a particularly ugly fountain. Lit by search-lights, stylized heroic figures supported a huge marble bowl from which water cascaded over them. The only thing Jeb Stuart Ho could imagine it symbolized was blind stupidity. Apart from a few drunks who staggered round the statue's base, the centre of the square was equally quiet. It seemed an ideal place to stop and think.

He stepped off the kerb and dodged the ground traffic until he reached the central island. There he walked slowly towards the fountain. He stopped at its rim and stared down into the water. A.A. Catto had eluded him. He couldn't afford just to roam Litz and hope for another lead. That would undoubtedly give her time to leave the city altogether. There was even a chance that she had done that already. His best action might be to contact Bannion, to see if he had any information on her whereabouts. His other alternative might be to get hold of the Minstrel Boy and find out if he had any more contacts that could be valuable.

He let his eyes follow the patterns of ripples. He made his brain become calm and analytical. He forced it to calculate the possibilities that might stem from any single action. He was completing the third level when a voice beside him in-terrupted the process.

'Got a drink, buddy?'

Jeb Stuart Ho was jerked into the material world.

'I'm sorry. I failed to hear you.'

A ragged, filthy drunk stood in front of him, swaying slightly and scratching his leg. He looked up at Jeb Stuart Ho and made an implausible attempt at a winning smile. He also raised his voice a little.

'I said, got a drink, buddy?'

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled compassionately at him, and stretched his hand out to the water.

'Drink of the fountain, my friend. There is plenty here for everyone.'

The drunk spat in disgust.

'Fucking wisearse.'

He staggered away, muttering indignantly. Jeb Stuart Ho watched him sadly. It seemed as though Litz was a place where logic hardly functioned. He wondered if it was a fault in the city's stability generators. He decided that his best immediate course of action should be to call Bannion. He looked around for a com-booth. There was one a little way on from Fidel's Burgers in the foyer of an Obscenery. There seemed to be a lull in the traffic. His attention was attracted by a black, low-slung ground car that screamed into the square, dodging other vehicles with almost suicidal high-speed swerves. It made a half circuit of the square, drifting on the corners, and then screeched to a halt in front of Fidel's Bur-gers. It only paused for a moment, and then gunned away again. Jeb Stuart Ho was just wondering if it was some kind of local pastime, when the interior of Fidel's was taken out by an impact bomb. The blast lifted Jeb Stuart Ho clean off his feet, and blew him some metres across the square. When he had picked him-self up and recovered from the shock, there were LDC patrol cars arriving, ploughing through the rubble that now littered the square in front of what had recently been a brightly lit burger joint. A Correction Department airship floated over-head, directing its searchlights down at the wrecked build-ing. A pair of ornithopters fluttered close to the mass of its cigar-shaped gas bag. From inside the ruins, Jeb Stuart Ho could hear muffled screaming.

A thought struck Jeb Stuart Ho with almost physical force. One of the strongest possible reasons for someone bombing the burger joint was the fact that he might have been there. If he hadn't abandoned the meal he would have still been sitting inside. It was an obvious move on the part of A.A. Catto to hire warriors, more likely brigands of some kind, to kill him before he killed her. It was a very logical action. He felt a tingle run through his muscles. It was now a battle, something which he could deal with. A throng of sightseers were already pressing towards the ruins of Fidel's. They milled about and hampered the move-ments of the LDC. A fire truck, a medic unit and more patrol cars arrived. The disaster area was now packed with people, and luridly illuminated by the garish colours of the flashing warning lights. Jeb Stuart Ho pushed himself to the centre of the crowd to see if he could pick up any clue to the identity of the attackers. Even the patrolmen seemed to move out of the way of the tall, sinister, black-clad figure.

At the far side of the crowd, Jeb Stuart Ho spotted Bannion. He was still dressed in his rumpled brown suit. He appeared to be directing operations. He waved and gesticulated to the squad. Bodies were being carried out of the wreckage on stretchers. Jeb Stuart Ho made his way across to where Ban-nion stood.

'Chief-Agent Bannion.'

Bannion turned. When he saw Ho he scowled and took the cigar from between his teeth.

'What the hell are you doing here? Why don't you fuck off? I've got enough troubles without you showing up.'

Jeb Stuart Ho took a deep breath.

'I fear I may have inadvertently been responsible for this unfortunate occurrence.'

Bannion looked as though he was going to explode. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a snub-nosed .70 cor-rection special. He waved it under Jeb Stuart Ho's nose.

'I've a good mind to kill you right now! Accidentally!'

He almost spat out the last word. Jeb Stuart Ho stood very still, staring impassively at the gun. Its short barrel was almost as wide as it was long. At last the chief-agent managed to control himself. His words were cold and deadly.

'Are you trying to tell me that you blew up Fidel's burger joint?'

Jeb Stuart Ho quickly shook his head.

'I didn't cause the explosion. That would have been neither logical nor ethical. I think I may well have been the intended victim.'

'You were in the place?'

'Minutes before the explosion. I left quickly because the food was so bad.'

Bannion's lip curled.

'That figures. Go on.'

'It is my deduction that whoever drove up and threw the bomb was hired by A.A. Catto to kill me.'

'Before you get to her?'

'That's correct. I think there will be other attempts.'

Bannion dropped his cigar and ground it out with his heel.

'You really are a prize, aren't you, brother? First you cause the death of one of my officers and now you seem to have started a mini-war. I knew I should never have let you go. I should have shot you when you were first brought in.'

Jeb Stuart Ho attempted to be totally reasonable.

'Perhaps you should attempt to cooperate with me.'

Bannion began to turn red again.

'Cooperate! With you!'

'The sooner I find A.A. Catto, the sooner I'm out of your city.'

Bannion's face tightened.

'Listen, sunshine. If I knew where the girl was, you'd be the last person I'd tell. I hope her boys get you real soon. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and blow you apart.'

'I . . .'

Bannion began waving the pistol again.

'Get!'

Jeb Stuart Ho took a last look at the mess of broken glass, twisted neon and shattered concrete. As he walked away, the vid crews began arriving. They came in all sizes, from single hand-held operators with scanners and backpacs to big, full-size mobiles that rode on their own cushion of air. Each company's crew vied with the others to get the tightest close-ups of death and mutilation. One portable operative was kneeling beside an arm that had been ripped off and flung out into the road. At close range he panned along it, recording every pore and every fleck of blood in loving 3D colour. Jeb Stuart Ho shuddered and walked away.

He kept on walking until he had covered the length of five blocks. The city of Litz was beginning to produce a taste in his mouth that was far worse than the Vegie-Wonder. He passed an alley that ran up the side of a Sex-O-Mat and something called Ye Olde Gunne Shoppe. A furtive movement made him pause. Although it was only half seen, there was something about it that triggered a subconscious response. Without thinking, he threw himself flat on the sidewalk. At the same instant there was the flash and explosion of a riot gun. Jeb Stuart Ho heard the scream of the cloud of deadly metal particles pass about half a metre over his head.

Two more blasts came from the alley, but both were slightly above him. Jeb Stuart Ho swivelled on his stomach with his own gun braced in both hands. He let go two shots in the direction of the flashes. It seemed from their position that there was more than one gunman. More riot blasts screamed over his head, and Ho returned the fire.

There was a clatter of garbage cans, and two men broke cover and ran, weaving in a low crouch down the alley. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a shot, and one of them fell. He was about to fire again, but the second man vanished into the shadows.

Ho, still flat on the ground, moved sideways like a crab. He reached the cover of the Sex-O-Mat wall and cautiously stood up. Still holding his gun, he drew his sword left-handed. He moved slowly and carefully down the alley. He was tensed to shoot at the slightest movement. After about twelve paces he came upon the body of one of the assassins. There was an ugly hole in his chest, and he was quite dead. Jeb Stuart Ho felt a grim satisfaction at his marksmanship. He now only had one killer to deal with. He moved on along the alley, keeping a careful watch on the deep shadows.

There was a slight movement, and Ho sprang sideways like a cat as a riot gun went off. A handful of particles nicked the right arm of his suit. He landed fractionally off balance, and before he could fire, a figure leaped to its feet and started running back in the direction of the street. The man made an easy target against the streetlights. Jeb Stuart Ho was about to fire, but then he changed his mind. He wanted this one alive. He dropped his gun into its holster, switched his sword to his right hand, and went after him.

When he reached the pavement the man hesitated for a moment and then ran to his right. A second later, Jeb Stuart Ho turned the corner, and saw him duck inside the Sex-O-Mat. Jeb Stuart Ho followed. Inside the brightly lit doorway was a red velvet curtain. He swept it aside and found a turnstile. He didn't bother to fumble for his credit card. He jumped it. There was no sign of the man in the small anteroom. He went on into a red-lit corridor. On either side of it were red doors that led into two rows of cubicles. The man must have taken refuge in one of the cubicles. Jeb Stuart Ho started towards the first. A figure appeared from a small alcove.

'Hey you!'

Ho swung round with his sword in the ready position. It was a guardian. Probably the Sex-O-Mat bouncer. The clone seemed to ignore the pointed sword and kept on coming.

'You have entered without paying.'

Ho took a step back.

'Did a man come through here?'

The clone kept on moving towards him.

'You will either leave or pay.'

He produced a short club from his belt. Jeb Stuart Ho took another step back. He was struck by a sense of the absurd. Here he was, an expert swordsman, backing away from a man with a small billy club. He had no desire to kill the man, but he couldn't afford to lose the gunman. He deliber-ately lowered his sword. The guardian swung his club at his head. Jeb Stuart Ho's hand flashed up and blocked the blow. At the same time, the hilt of his sword flicked the clone behind the ears. He suddenly sagged to the floor. Jeb Stuart Ho stepped over him and started down the corridor. Each door had a small tri-di cube set in the door, just below eye level. This gave the customer an idea of what particular attraction the cubicle contained. The first one showed a young girl lying down with her legs spread wide. She was caressing herself with a single repeating motion. The cubes were obviously run on a single short loop. On the second door a well-built girl in an outfit of leather and studs repeatedly cracked a long bullwhip, while the third showed a muscular young man flexing his biceps. The fourth was blank. It looked as though it was filled with a kind of pink mist. Jeb Stuart Ho assumed that it was the sign that the cubicle was occupied. He took a pace back and then launched himself at the door. His foot hit the lock and it shattered. He pivoted so a riot gun blast from inside the cubicle wouldn't hit him. None came. He pushed the door. A girl was on all fours on the bed, a small fat man crouching over her. They both stared at Jeb Stuart Ho, wide-eyed with shock and fear. He muttered his apologies and closed the damaged door.

The next two had images in the cube. The third was occupied. He hit the door. This time he interrupted a. loose-skinned middle-aged woman being thrashed by a handsome, golden-tanned young man. Again Ho made his excuses and shut the door.

At the third door Jeb Stuart Ho hesitated. All he seemed to be doing was progressively breaking up the Sex-O-Mat and frightening the customers. The man should be in the place somewhere. He poised himself to hit the door. At the last moment he remembered to twist and avoid any blast inside the cubicle. A fraction of a second later his care was rewarded. A riot gun blast shattered the door frame. Ho rolled into the room. A small man in dirty overalls was half standing, half kneeling on the bed. A frightened sex operative was huddled in the corner. Before the gunman could fire again, Ho stabbed his sword clean through his foot. The man screamed. Ho lashed out with his foot and knocked the riot gun out of his hands. The man attempted to drag the sword out of his foot, but Jeb Stuart Ho kept on holding the sword. The man gashed his hand and gave up the attempt. Ho flicked one of his knives forward into his hand from the sheath on his arm. He placed it gently under the man's chin.

'I wish to talk to you.'

'My foot! Take the goddamn sword out.'

'When you've told me what I want to know.'

'I ain't saying nothing.'

'But you are. You are making a great deal of noise. I need to know why you tried to kill me.'

'I can't tell you.'

'Why not?'

'They'll kill me.'

'Who will kill you?'

'I'm not saying.'

'I will kill you. It will be very slow and painful. I have no desire to do it, but I need the information you have very badly.'

The man looked desperate.

'If I talk I'll be killed.'

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him with great patience.

'If that is the truth, you must accept death, for if you don't talk, I am going to kill you.'

'Please . . .'

'I take it that A.A. Catto hired you.'

'I don't know any A.A. Catto.'

Jeb Stuart Ho twisted the sword a little. The man gasped and sweat stood out on his forehead.

'Listen . . . It was a girl that hired me. For fuck's sake take that thing out of my foot.'

'Where's the girl now?'

'I can't tell you.'

Jeb Stuart Ho put his face very close to that of the snan.

'It's just occurred to me that you might fear castration even more than death.'

The man gave a strangled shriek as Jeb Stuart Ho slowly moved his knife towards his genitals. The tip touched the material of the man's overalls. Jeb Stuart Ho paused.

'For the last time, where is she?'

The eyes darted from side to side in terror. Finally he gave in.

'She's holed up at the Leader Hotel.'

Ho jerked the sword out of the man's foot. He fell back on the bed, groaning. Ho turned to the boy.

'Is there a back way out of here?'

He could already hear LDC sirens outside. He didn't want to run into Bannion so soon after the last time. The boy started to giggle hysterically. He slapped him across the face.

'Can I get out at the back?'

He pulled himself together.

'There's a fire exit at the far end of the corridor. It leads out into the alley.'

Jeb Stuart Ho let himself out. He ran down the alley, away from the patrolmen who were milling in front of the Sex-O-Mat. When he reached the next main street he flagged down a cab.

'Leader Hotel, and quickly.'

The com-screen buzzed in Nancy's room at the Leader. Reave answered it. The room had been turned into a virtual com-mand post. In addition to A.A. Catto, Reave, Nancy and Billy, Monk and four other hoods including Wormo hung about waiting for news. The Minstrel Boy squatted in a corner with his hands tied. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of booze. As the screen came to life it brought the face of little Sammy into focus. He looked agitated.

'Lemme speak to Monk.'

Reave turned to Monk.

'It's Sammy, he wants to speak to you.'

Monk moved within range of the screen.

'What d'you want?'

'It's trouble, boss.'

'Trouble?'

'That killer. He's on the loose. It looks like he's heading your way.'

'What?'

'I just heard over the LDC radio net. I've got a buddy who works as a dispatcher. The bomb at Authority Square didn't get him. He'd already left the place. Mutt and Drucker made a play for him. He shot Drucker, and then chased Mutt into a Sex-O-Mat. It seems like he's wrecked the place and cut Mutt up pretty bad. I figure there can't be no way that Mutt didn't talk.'

Monk looked grim.

'So you think he's on his way here?'

Sammy nodded.

'He's got to be.'

Monk thought for a couple of seconds.

'How long ago did all this happen?'

'Five, maybe ten minutes.'

'Listen, you better get back over here.'

Sammy avoided Monk's eyes.

'Listen, Monk. No disrespect or anything, but I ain't coming anywhere near the place. I had it with this job. I'm through.'

Monk snarled.

'You're through alright.'

He hit the console with the edge of his hand and broke the connection.

'Chickenshit!'

He turned to Nancy and A.A. Catto.

'You hear that?'

They both nodded. Nancy looked round the room. Every-one had fallen silent.

'We have to get out of here.'

A.A. Catto turned to Monk.

'How do I get out of the city? I've got to find a place where he can't reach me.'

Monk looked blankly at the other hoods.

'Don't ask us, lady. We've never been out of the city in our lives.'

A.A. Catto looked round helplessly. Nobody seemed about to offer any kind of practical suggestion. Reave muttered something about calling a cab, and A.A. Catto hit him with the small riding crop that hung from her wrist. Even the blow seemed a little preoccupied. Finally the Minstrel Boy grinned.

'You could rent an airship.'

A.A. Catto gripped the crop firmly and advanced on him.

'Are you trying to be funny?'

The Minstrel Boy shook his head.

'Am I in any position to be funny?'

He held up his bound hands.

'I'm perfectly serious. I'm good at getting people out of trouble. Ask Billy and Reave.'

A.A. Catto looked doubtful.

'Where do I get an airship from?'

The Minstrel Boy grinned.

'Dirigible Rentals, Lighter Than Air Leasing. They're both good. You can get their coordinates from Information.'

A.A. Catto kicked him.

'You're trying to make a fool out of me.'

The Minstrel Boy shrugged as best he could while tied up. Captivity seemed to be making him philosophical. A.A. Catto was about to kick him again when Reave called across from the com-screen.

'He's right. Both corporations exist.'

Reave had discreetly checked while A.A. Catto had been raging at the Minstrel Boy. She redirected her anger at him.

'Then get one, dummy.'

The Minstrel Boy sank back into the corner with a sigh while Reave went about his task. He ceased to wonder how he was going to get out of the situation. He was thankful for being alive from one moment to the next. He wondered if this minute at a time lifestyle was the basis of his new-found philosophy. Reave looked up from the screen.

'Dirigible Rentals can get a one hundred capacity here in fifteen minutes. It comes with a cinema and small intimate ballroom. The orchestra's extra.'

'Screw the orchestra. Can't they get it here any quicker?'

Reave shook his head.

'We're paying double for that.'

'Order it, then.'

'I can't.'

A.A. Catto went bright red.

'What do you mean you can't?'

'You have to. You're the client, it's your credit card.'

Reave stood up and A.A. Catto flung herself into the chair in front of the com-set. As she was arranging the airship hire, Nancy went over to where Monk was sitting staring bleakly into the mirror of her elaborate makeup table.

'How long do you figure it will be before Jeb Stuart Ho gets here?'

Monk toyed with one of Nancy's gilt hairbrushes.

'If he took a ground cab, and the traffic went his way, maybe ten minutes. Give or take a couple of minutes each way.'

A.A. Catto came across from the com-set. She'd gone white.

'But the airship won't be here for fifteen.'

Monk nodded.

'So it'll be too late.'

Monk nodded again. A.A. Catto bit her knuckles

'What can we do?'

Nobody answered. She looked at Nancy.

'There must be something. He's going to kill me.

Nancy looked at Monk, and back to A.A. Catto.

'If Monk and his boys could hold him off for five minutes or more we could go up on the roof and wait for the ship to come. We can board it from there. It's not used, but there's still an old mooring tower from when this used to be a fancy hotel.'

Monk, who had listened to the whole conversation in sullen silence, suddenly slammed his fist into the top of the dress-ing table.

'No way!'

Nancy looked at him in surprise.

'No way what?'

'No way will we hold off this guy for you.'

Every eye in the room was on Monk. Reave walked over and stood beside him.

'Why not, Monk, what's wrong?'

The Minstrel Boy's voice came from the corner.

'I'll tell you why not.'

Reave turned towards him.

'Why?'

'For one, the man knows if you all jump on your airship, he ain't going to get paid, and for two, Jeb Stuart Ho is most likely to kill anyone who gets in his way.'

A.A. Catto suddenly exploded. She pushed past Reave, and started slashing at the Minstrel Boy with her riding crop.

'I'll kill you! You little creep! I've had enough! Nasty little punk! I'll . . .'

Reave grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn't reach her ring. Even as he was doing it he couldn't believe himself. He'd never been so brave.

'Come on. Calm down.'

A.A. Catto continued to struggle.

'If I'm going to die, I'm going to kill him first.'

The Minstrel Boy had curled up in a ball in the corner. He marvelled that he still hadn't died. Suddenly Nancy moved between him and A.A. Catto.

'There's no reason why anyone should die, least of all you.'

A.A. Catto stopped struggling,

'What do you mean?'

Nancy glanced at Monk.

'I'm sure Monk and the boys would hold off Ho if you offered them a credit card each.'

Monk suddenly looked interested.

'How do we get them?'

'A.A. Catto calls the bank and makes the arrangements. They could be transmitted to the desk clerk who could hold them until we're safely away.'

Nancy didn't neglect to make sure of her own place on the airship.

Monk hesitated. He tilted back his fedora and scratched his head. Then he looked at A.A. Catto.

'You agree to that?'

'Anything, anything.'

Monk nodded.

'Okay, do it, we're wasting time.'

Reave let go of A.A. Catto. While she began desperately to punch out coordinates, he began to direct his men.

'Huey and Jeff, you go down to the lobby. Stay hidden. When he comes in let him get past you, then shoot him in the back.'

The two hoods nodded. He turned to the other two.

'Wormo and Chang, us three will set ourselves up on the landing. If he gets past the other two, we'll be there to blast him in a cross fire whether he uses the lift or the stairs. Okay?'

The two men rather reluctantly agreed. He glanced at A.A. Catto.

'Is it fixed?'

She nodded.

'It's fixed.'

The hoods all trooped out. Everyone looked at Billy. Nancy scowled.

'What about him?'

A.A. Catto turned.

'What about him?'

Reave turned from collecting up the things they'd need.

'Can't he come with us?'

A.A. Catto looked petulant.

'Why?'

'He's my old partner. I can't leave him, he might be killed.'

'Why should I do you any favours, you hurt me just now?'

Reave almost grovelled.

'Please.'

'Oh, very well.'

Billy looked questioningly at Reave.

'What about Darlene? She's up in our room with a trick.'

'You'll have to leave her. There isn't time.'

Billy shrugged.

'Okay.'

The Minstrel Boy decided to push his luck.

'What about me?'

A.A. Catto regarded him coldly.

'What about you?'

'I could be useful. I'd know where you were. You're going to have to go through the nothings. I could be amazingly use-ful.'

A.A. Catto shook her head.

'You're not going.'

'I could save you a lot of trouble.'

Reave looked uncertain.

'He could be right. After all he is a guide.'

A.A. Catto began to get angry again.

'I've already agreed to take one of your little friends. I'm not taking him. I don't trust him, and I don't like him.'

Reave didn't press the point. The four of them began to file out towards the lift. The Minstrel Boy had one last try.

'At least untie me.'

A.A. Catto almost spat at him from the doorway.

'Take your chances.'

The Minstrel Boy sagged back into his corner again. He heard the lift gates clang shut and the mechanism grind into action. Eventually he heard it stop as the lift reached the top floor. A few moments later, the sound of gunfire echoed up the lift shaft. It sounded as though it came from the lobby. Jeb Stuart Ho came carefully through the door of the Leader Hotel. The lobby was silent and deserted. The screen flickered in one corner, but no one was watching it. The drunks had all left. Someone had even turned off the sound. Just inside the doorway, Ho stopped. He felt the air, almost like an animal. It seemed heavy with tension. He turned and walked quietly to the desk. The clerk seemed to have abandoned his usual position. Jeb Stuart Ho leaned over the desk and looked down. The clerk was crouching on the floor. He looked fear-fully at Ho.

'I . . .'

'Why are you kneeling on the floor?'

The clerk half rose.

'I . . . I was looking for something. Something I dropped.'

'Did you find it?'

'Find what?'

'The thing you were looking for. The thing you dropped.'

'I . . . er . . . no. I didn't. It must be somewhere else.'

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

'That seems very likely.'

He took two paces away from the desk in the direction of the lift. The clerk sank behind the desk again. Ho stopped and wondered from which direction the ambush that had evidently been arranged for him would come. The most likely tactic for the assassins would be to remain hidden until he was almost by the lift, and then shoot him in the back. He knew that he would have to take a chance on being right. He pulled out his gun and sword. Slowly he bent his knees until he was almost crouching. With a snap he launched himself into the air. The leap took him most of the way across the lobby. He landed on his feet just in front of the lift gates. He spun round. Two men with guns appeared from behind the battered furniture, on each side of the room. Jeb Stuart Ho flung out his arm. The gun exploded and the sword flashed from his hand. One hood spun into the wall as the bullet smashed into his chest. The other toppled forward and fell on his knees, desperately trying to pull the sword from his throat. As his gun hit the floor it went off. The shot carved a long furrow in the threadbare carpet. With his arms still extended Jeb Stuart Ho slowly straight-ened up. The clerk emerged furtively from behind the desk. When he saw Jeb Stuart Ho and the two dead men, he turned even paler. Jeb Stuart Ho slowly let his arms drop. He walked to the man with the sword sticking out of his neck. Ho rolled the corpse over until it was lying on its back. He grasped the sword hilt with both hands, placed his foot on the body's chest, and tugged. He picked a tattered cushion out of one of the chairs and carefully wiped the blade. He dropped the cushion and looked at the desk clerk.

'Where is A.A. Catto?'

The desk clerk's mouth worked desperately, but no words came. Jeb Stuart Ho started to walk towards him.

'Where is A.A. Catto?'

The desk clerk found his voice.

'Up on the fifth floor, but there's more of them waiting for you.'

'I see.'

Jeb Stuart Ho turned and peered up the dark lift shaft. He would be a sitting duck if he used the lift. He saw that a set of emergency stairs ran round the outside of the shaft. He would be safer using them. As he started up the first flight he turned back, and smiled sardonically at the white-faced desk clerk.

'I hope you locate whatever you lost.'

He went up the first three floors very quickly, but as he approached the fourth he slowed down and took the stairs much more carefully. It would be foolish not to assume that another trap had been set for him. He stepped on to the fourth floor landing, ready to act at the slightest sound or movement. Nothing happened. Ho waited for a few moments and then moved silently towards the next set of steps. There would be men waiting at the top of the next flight.

There were eight steps in front of him. Then a right-angle turn and, if it was the same as the first four, another eight that led up to the fifth floor. Ho moved silently up to the turn, and stopped. Still nothing had happened. He looked up at the last eight steps. He took a firmer grip on his gun and sword. He put his foot on the first step. Nothing. He tried the second, the third and the fourth. Still there was no explosion of gun-fire. Maybe the desk clerk had lied. Maybe there was no one lying in wait. Maybe A.A. Catto had fled the Leader Hotel altogether. He touched the fifth step. He moved to the sixth. As he placed his foot silently on the seventh step, there was the roar of a riot gun. The blast smashed lumps of plaster out of the wall above his head. He somersaulted backwards down the eight steps and landed on his feet at the turn in the stairs. A hail of needles gouged into the wall where he'd been standing just a fraction of a second before.

Jeb Stuart Ho crouched on the stair. On his hands and knees he edged his way forward, a centimetre at a time. The needles and the riot blast meant there were at least two gun-men waiting for him. At the sixth step he paused. He un-strapped the nanchuk from his arm, held one end at arm's length, and quickly swung the other. It soared into the air, hit the far wall of the landing and clattered on the stone floor. One riot blast hit the far wall, another smashed plaster from the wall beside the stairs, a burst of needles screamed, rico-cheting through the steel cage of the lift shaft. Jeb Stuart Ho smiled grimly. There had to be three of them. The riot blasts were too close together and the angle of fire too great for them to have come from the same gun. For a fraction of a second one of the gunmen had emerged from cover to fire. It was one of the men with riot guns. He crouched in an open doorway. Jeb Stuart Ho could only see him when he leaned out to fire.

He waited patiently, crouching halfway up that last flight. Sure enough, a minute hardly passed before the man cautiously poked his head out and looked around. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a single shot. It smashed the man's forehead and pitched him back inside the room. There was another riot blast, and another burst of needles. Each hit an opposite side of the stairs. Jeb Stuart Ho remained very still and thought care-fully.

At each end of the fifth floor landing, a corridor led away to the various rooms. From the way their shots were hitting the wall, he decided that the two men must be somewhere in the corridor, positioned at opposite ends of the landing, main-taining a crossfire on the head of the stairs. While he stayed where he was they couldn't hit him, but once he set foot on the landing, one at least would probably get a shot at him while he was dealing with the other. He couldn't afford to waste time. It seemed he would have to take a chance on their re-actions being slower than his.

Jeb Stuart Ho took a step backwards. He tensed himself. He flashed up the stairs and hit the landing. He leaped and, curling himself into a ball, he crashed into the far wall. The riot gun exploded. The bulk of the charge missed him. A few particles ripped through the fabric of his suit. He could feel blood running down his arm. He fired at the man from a crouch. The impact of the bullet flung him backwards down the corridor. He twitched a couple of times and lay still. Ho swung round to face the killer with the needle gun. He couldn't understand why he hadn't shot at him. As he raised his gun he saw why. The riot blast that had been meant for Jeb Stuart Ho had caught the man squarely in the chest. He must have stood up to take aim and been caught in his partner's fire. His body was almost cut in half. It lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. A grey fedora lay about a metre from the mutilated corpse. Jeb Stuart Ho stood up cautiously. There were no more shots. It seemed as though there was nobody else lying in wait for him. He dropped his gun into its holster, and walked down the corridor. He still kept his sword in his hand. He stepped over the body, and looked inside the first room. It was empty. The door of the second was wide open. In one corner was a huddled figure. Its hands were tied behind its back. It looked up. Jeb Stuart Ho saw it was the Minstrel Boy. He lowered his sword. The Minstrel Boy grinned crookedly.

'I was wondering when you'd get here.'

Jeb Stuart Ho sheathed his sword and stood looking down at the Minstrel Boy. His face was grim.

'Where is A.A. Catto?'

'She's gone.'

'Gone? How?'

'She rented an airship. They left from the roof. They must have got well away by now.'

Jeb Stuart Ho's jaw muscles tightened, but otherwise he showed no sign of the anger and frustration that welled up inside him. The Minstrel Boy struggled to sit up.

'Aren't you going to untie me?'

Jeb Stuart Ho didn't move. A thought had just struck him. The Minstrel Boy's voice took on a querulous edge.

'Come on, Killer. Don't just stand there, untie me.'

Jeb Stuart Ho stared hard at him.

'It must have been you who informed them where I was.'

The Minstrel Boy adopted a look of pained surprise.

'Who, me?'

'It could only have been you.'

'How would I know where you were?'

'You must have used your credit card. I can think of no other way.'

'You're crazy.'

'I could check with the bank.'

Jeb Stuart Ho moved towards the vid set. The Minstrel Boy sighed.

'Okay, okay. It was me. I found you through the bank.'

Jeb Stuart Ho looked coldly at him.

'So you changed sides.'

'Does it look as though I changed sides? Would I be lying here tied up if I changed sides?'

'You told them where I was.'

'So? Who says I changed sides? Who says I was on your side in the first place? You forced me to guide you at gun-point. That don't mean I owe you anything.'

'They threw a bomb into an eating house. A number of people were killed.'

The Minstrel Boy's mouth set in a stubborn line.

'So? What could I do? They beat me up. They would have killed me if I hadn't told, them. I never asked to get involved in your private wars, and no way am I responsible for any bystanders who get in the way. Now, are you going to untie me or not?'

Jeb Stuart Ho reluctantly pulled one of his knives from the sheath on his arm and sliced through the Minstrel Boy's bond. He stood up and began massaging the circulation back into his wrists. Ho put away his knife, and walked slowly out of the room. The Minstrel Boy paused for a moment, and then followed him. As he was about to start down the stairs, some-thing on one of the bodies on the landing caught his eye. Around its waist was his knife belt. He walked over to the body, bent down and retrieved it. He strapped the belt round his own hips and followed Jeb Stuart Ho down to the lobby. When they reached the ground floor, Chief-Agent Bannion and a squad of LDC patrolmen were waiting. Bannion stared at Jeb Stuart Ho with his hands clasped behind his back. The ever-present cigar was clamped between his teeth.

'You just can't stop, can you?'

Jeb Stuart Ho inclined his head.

'The trials that beset us are as numerous as the flowers that bloom.'

'I don't give a fuck what besets you, brother. It's the way you beset me that I care about. You are giving me ulcers.'

'A careful diet might correct that.'

Bannion began to turn crimson.

'Don't get wise with me, buster. There's two men dead here. The desk clerk says you killed them.'

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

'Didn't he also tell you that they were trying to kill me?'

Bannion began to pace up and down. Finally he stopped in front of Ho. He thrust his face very close to Ho's.

'Your score so far is nine dead, including the five we pulled out of the burger joint.'

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him calmly.

'There are three more upstairs.'

Bannion looked as though he might haemorrhage.

'Divine Marquis give me patience. I suppose you're going to claim that was self-defence.'

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

'That is correct.'

The Minstrel Boy began to edge towards the door. Bannion saw him out of the corner of his eye and swung round.

'You! You hold it right there!'

'Who, me?'

'Yes, you. You're mixed up in this somewhere.'

The Minstrel Boy became a picture of innocence.

'Not me, mister Chief-Agent, sir. I was just passing through.'

Bannion snarled. He looked ugly.

'Bullshit. You arrived in town with this maniac, and he paid you with a credit card. Right?'

'I was only a guide. He forced me to lead him here.'

'Okay then. You can just lead him away again. You're both being expelled from the city. If you're still here in one hour, my men will shoot you on sight.'

Jeb Stuart Ho's face became set.

'I have a task to complete.'

Bannion's eyes narrowed.