influence reached into places
where the Veep himself was totally unknown. Yes, he could count on an
excellent, well above suspicion, set of clients to discover Rynch
Brodie when the time came.

"I can deliver the boy tonight, or early tomorrow morning. Where?"

"You are sure of your selection?"

"He fulfills the requirements, the right age, general appearance. A
boy who will not be missed, who has no kin, no ties, and who will
drop out of sight without any questions to be asked."

"Very well. Get him at once. Deliver him here."

Wass swept one hand across the table surface. On the red of the stone
there glowed for seconds an address. Hume noted it, nodded. It was one
in the center of the port town, one which could be visited at an odd
hour without exciting any curiosity. He rose.

"He will be there."

"Tomorrow, at your convenience," Wass added, "you will come to this
place." Again the palm moved and a second address showed on the table.

"There you will begin your tape for our use. It may take several
sessions."

"I'm ready. I still have the long report to make to the Guild, so the
material is still available on my note tapes."

"Excellent. Out-Hunter Hume, I salute a new colleague." At last Wass'
right hand came up from the table. "May we both have luck equal to our
industry."

"Luck to equal our desires," Hume corrected him.

"A very telling phrase, Out-Hunter. Luck to equal our desires. Yes,
let us both deserve that."

2

The Starfall was a long way down scale from the pleasure houses of the
upper town. Here strange vices were also merchandise, but not such
exotics as Wass provided. This was strictly for crewmen of the star
freighters who could be speedily and expertly separated from a
voyage's pay in an evening. The tantalizing scents of Wass' terraces
were reduced here to simply smells, the majority of which were not
fragrant.

There had already been two fatal duels that evening. A tubeman from a
rim ship had challenged a space miner to settle a difference with
those vicious whips made from the tail casings of Flangoid flying
lizards, an encounter which left both men in ribbons, one dead, one
dying. And a scarred, ex-space marine had blaster-flamed one of the
Star-and-Comet dealers into charred human ash.

The young man who had been ordered to help clear away the second loser
retired to the stinking alley outside to lose the meal which was part
of his meager day's pay. Now he crawled