e dead. You want me
in court."

Read clicked off the safety.

"Corporal Read is very young," Rashid said, "but he's a crack
shot. That's why I brought him with me. I think he _likes_ to
shoot, too."

Umluana turned back to Rashid a second too soon. He saw the
sergeant's upraised hand before it collided with his neck.

"Help! _Kidnap._"

Rashid judo chopped him and swung the inert body over his
shoulders. Read pulled a flat grenade from his vest pocket. He
dropped it and yellow psycho gas hissed from the valve.

"Let's be off," Rashid said.

The door lock snapped as they went out the window. Two men with
rifles plunged into the gas; sighing, they fell to the floor in a
catatonic trance.

A little car skimmed across the lawn. Bearing the Scourge of
Africa, Rashid struggled toward it. Read walked backward,
covering their retreat.

The car stopped, whirling blades holding it a few inches off the
lawn. They climbed in.

"How did it go?" The driver and another inspector occupied the
front seat.

"They'll be after us in half a minute."

The other inspector carried a light machine gun and a box of
grenades. "I better cover," he said.

"Thanks," Rashid said.

The inspector slid out of the car and ran to a clump of bushes.
The driver pushed in the accelerator. As they swerved toward the
south, Read saw a dozen armed men run out of the house. A grenade
arced from the bushes and the pursuers recoiled from the cloud
that rose before them.

"Is he all right?" the driver asked.

"I don't think I hurt him." Rashid took a syrette from his vest
pocket. "Well, Read, it looks like we're in for a fight. In a few
minutes Miaka Station will know we're coming. And God knows what
will happen at the Game Preserve."

Read wanted to jump out of the car. He could die any minute. But
he had set his life on a well-oiled track and he couldn't get off
until they reached Geneva.

"They don't know who's coming," he said. "They don't make them
tough enough to stop this boy."

Staring straight ahead, he didn't see the sergeant smile.

* * * * *

Two types of recruits are accepted by the UN Inspector Corps:
those with a fanatic loyalty to the ideals of peace and world
order, and those who are loyal to nothing but themselves. Read
was the second type.

A tall, lanky Negro he had spent his school days in one of the
drab suburbs that ring every prosperous American city. It was the
home of factor