"What is this opportunity?" Conger asked. "Go on. I'm interested."
The room was silent; all faces were fixed on Conger--still in the drab
prison uniform. The Speaker leaned forward slowly.
"Before you went to prison your trading business was paying well--all
illegal--all very profitable. Now you have nothing, except the prospect
of another six years in a cell."
Conger scowled.
"There is a certain situation, very important to this Council, that
requires your peculiar abilities. Also, it is a situation you might find
interesting. You were a hunter, were you not? You've done a great deal
of trapping, hiding in the bushes, waiting at night for the game? I
imagine hunting must be a source of satisfaction to you, the chase, the
stalking--"
Conger sighed. His lips twisted. "All right," he said. "Leave that out.
Get to the point. Who do you want me to kill?"
The Speaker smiled. "All in proper sequence," he said softly.
* * * * *
The car slid to a stop. It was night; there was no light anywhere along
the street. Conger looked out. "Where are we? What is this place?"