Nolan's brows drew down over his eyes. What was this girl to Woller?
Whatever the connection was, by rights he should take no chances. The
girl was a danger to him--and the life of no woman on Woller's string
should be permitted to stand between him and the chance for vengeance
on the man who had framed him.
"I'll give you ten seconds," he whispered harshly.
But already he was stepping silently backward, concealed in the
abyss-black gloom of the chamber. He reached noiselessly behind him for
the knob of the door. He was being a fool and he knew it. But he had
seen honesty in her eyes, back on the skid, and even the yearning for
revenge couldn't make him blot that out with pyro-flame.
He opened the door, slid out, closed it softly behind him. The girl
said nothing, perhaps had not known he had gone. Nolan cast a quick
longing glance at the other door, but there was no time. In seconds the
girl would discover she was alone. There would be an alarm, surely.
A dim thread of light showed him the door to the hall. Catlike he
crossed to it, then halted, petrified. Men were coming down the
hall, several of them by the voices. He caught a snatch of a rasping
complaint: "_Old man Woller's tin soldiers, that's us. Who the hell
does he--_"
Nolan swore lividly under his breath. The end of the trail had come.
But he stepped back a pace and stood there, pyro up-tilted and ready.
He would have a split-second's advantage. If only there were no more
than two or three of them--
* * * * *
And then the sound was drowned out. A sharp, moaning screech came from
outside. A harsh metallic wail that climbed for the frigid heavens
above, louder than the screaming trumpets of Ragnarök.
The alarm sirens! There was a break in the crystal dome that held the
life of Avalon!
Meteorite, accident or simple fatigue--the dome had cracked. Air and
heat would vanish. Death would tenant the city.
There was a sudden, sharp babble from the men outside, then the
pounding of footsteps, halting as they dove into the grav-shaft.
Nolan's chance! But he froze in his tracks, then whirled. He ran to the
door behind him and wrenched it open.
"Get a heat suit!" he bawled to the girl on the bed. "Dome's cracked!
You've got maybe twenty minutes--less, if it's a bad break!"
His voice was a bellow--there was no time for whispers. No time, and
perhaps no need. If the dome had gone, Avalon might be a city of
corpses, heat suits or none, before help could arrive with fresh oxygen
tanks from far-away Aylette. Disguise would hardly matter then.
But he wasted no time in thought. He was out the door, down the hall
and dropping into the cushioning grav-web of the descending shaft in
seconds. Guests were waking in their rooms. The corridors were filling
with shouting men and women. The shriek of emergency trucks filtered in
from the street, and the hoarse bellow of the alarm sirens multiplied
the havoc done to the peace of the night.
If he could get to a ship--?
But the slidewalks would be jammed with panicky humans, all with the
same thought. A heat suit was his only chance. And the nearest ones he
knew of were at South Lock, at the base of the dome itself!
He swung himself out of the shaft, raced across the lobby, which was
already beginning to fill with people intent on escape. He was out the
door with the van of them, racing across a still empty street toward
South Lock.
A slim, pale figure darted across in front of him. He moved to dodge
past, then slowed momentarily as he saw who it was.
"Steve!" Only one man knew that name--Petersen!
"Pete! What are you waiting for? Come on--get a suit!"
Petersen sighed, touched Nolan's shoulder to halt him. "There's no
hurry, pal," he said mildly.
"No hurry! The dome alarm--"
Petersen shook his head. "Forget it," he said. "I turned the alarm in
myself."
* * * * *
Toward what passed for morning in Avalon, the confusion died down. The
emergency cars were off the streets, the sirens had long since stopped
wailing and the last irate citizen had retired for what remained of a
night's sleep.
Petersen came back from the window of his shabby little one-room
apartment and reported on progress to Nolan.
"All quiet," he said. "Sure you won't change your mind and lie down for
a while? You'll be needing sleep pretty soon."
Nolan swallowed the rest of his coffee, stubbed out a cigarette and
shook his head. "No time," he said. He glanced at his chrono. "I figure
on leaving in twenty minutes. You're sure Woller's going to be on that
ship?"