ng through glass when he was looking down the throat of Bryce's
gun. Bryce waited for him to think it over.

The hand of the man in the back seat came into focus as his eyes
adjusted to the dark inside, and he could see that it was holding a
gun. The gun was not pointing at anything in particular. It was frozen
in mid-motion. The man had a half-smile frozen on his face, probably
in the way he had been smiling just before Bryce spoke.

"Open your hand. Drop it." The glint of the gun disappeared, and there
was a faint thud from the floor. Bryce opened the door and slid into
the rear seat, watchful for motion, ready to shoot. "Face front!" They
faced front like two puppets, perhaps the uncontrollable rasp in his
voice was convincing. He still did not know whose men they were, or
why they had been hired. It would be no use questioning them for they
would not know either. He could guess who it was, a name came to mind,
but there was no way of checking up. This kind of business did not fit
well with the crucial balance of his plans for the next two weeks. "Be
careful," he said perhaps unnecessarily, "I'm nervous. Union Hotel
please."

The short ride to the hotel was made in dead silence, with the man in
the opposite corner barely moving enough to blink his eyes. He was
middle-aged, with the resigned sagging lines to his face of ambition
disappointed, but he sat with a waiting stillness that Bryce
recognized as something to watch. There was probably another gun
within quick reach of that passive right hand.

The roter drifted down to a landing space on the floodlighted landing
roof of the hotel and settled with a slight bump. "Don't move." The
clumsy careful business of opening the door backward with his right
hand and sliding out without taking his eyes from either of them was
tediously slow.

Once out, he slammed the door briskly. "Take off." Not until the red
and green lights had faded into the distance did he turn away, pocket
his gun and walk into the wide doorway to the elevators. As he brushed
past the hotel detective standing in the doorway the detective was
reholstering a large size police pacifier. Apparently he had been
ready to impartially stun everyone concerned at the first sign of
trouble, which probably explained why those in the aircab had not
attempted any retaliation. The detective gave Bryce a cold stare as he
went by, probably in disapproval of guests waving weapons on hotel
premises.

III

In