The new buildings pressed against the new sidewalks. The streets were
empty except for their car and a turret-like Mobile Sweeper whose
gutter broom whispered against the curb. A light here and there in a
window heralded the end of sleep. A lone car crossed at an intersection
ahead, moving slowly as if fatigued by a night-long vigil.
The sun seemed reluctant to plunge the world into daylight; it balanced
on the horizon in indecision. The moon was high and tiny and rode the
growing blueness with a ghostlike pallor.
Herb, leaning forward tensely, thought: _Suppose Bud isn't there?
Suppose he's somewhere else?_
"Turn left up here," Norma said. "It's only a few blocks."
The buildings anchored time to the Earth, encapsulating the past in
steel and concrete. Morning shadows walked before the onrushing future.
"Here!" Norma cried.
The car braked to a stop.
The driver watched them run wildly, and an uneasiness settled upon him.
He glanced to the east. The morning was chill. The excitement their
urgency had generated had not vanished with their departure. What the
devil? he thought. Whadda you suppose it's all about?
* * * * *
Inside, Norma said, "Third floor. He's got guards. I'll take the
elevator. You take the stairs. I'll try to get the guards' attention."
Herb nodded. He bolted for the stairway. The carpet blanketed his
footfalls. He heard the elevator doors click and the cage rattle upward.
First landing.
Silence.
Second landing.
His heart was loud. His feet became delicate, and he balanced on his
toes, moving toward the final encounter.
There.
Norma had the guard. There was only one. She was speaking intently. The
guard faced away from Herb.
Herb was in the corridor. He moved like a sigh, and the space between
him and the guard shortened.
The guard turned, and Herb sprang. He crashed into the guard before the
police automatic was clear of the shiny holster. The impact of his body
spun the gun away.
They were down, wrestling viciously. Herb felt his head ring. He
stifled a cry. Pain nestled in his groin. He struck out.
The guard smashed an elbow into Herb's nose. He got up and kicked Herb
in the face, and Herb jerked his leg savagely. Unbalanced, he went
down. Herb was upon him. Breath hissed out, and Herb struck viciously
with his gun butt. Panting, he stood.
"It's locked," he said, testing the door. Norma had recovered the
guard's automatic. Whitefaced she stood.
Bloody nosed, bleeding, Herb threw himself into the panel. There was
a great, kettle drum boom and the panel held. Again he slammed into
it. It splintered away. He fought through the shards of maple; and was
halfway into the room when Bud, looking up from the telephone, fired.
Herb sighed and fell to the left and his gun slipped from his hand.