"Let's see the registration," I said.
The clerk pulled out the book and flipped it open. There was the name,
big, bold, and firm.
Zorvash Pedrik. Room 706A.
I left one of my men at the desk to make sure that no one warned Room
706A, and headed for the lift tube. Holdreth Khain and I went up to the
seventieth floor and looked for 6A.
I took out the key which the clerk had given me and carefully slid
it into the lock, trying not to make a sound. I really didn't think
anything would happen here. The Damakoi wouldn't set off the bomb this
far away from the Grand Capitol; fanatics don't waste their lives on
nobodies like me--not when they're out after much bigger game.
The key engaged, and as the door slid open, I stepped inside, my
blaster held at the ready.
The room was empty.
The bed was made, the ash-trays were clean, the windows were closed.
Zorvash Pedrik might have registered for the room, but he hadn't spent
much time in it.
He was on the loose--somewhere in the city--carrying around something
which could kill everyone in the Grand Capitol if it were set off.
"No sign of him," said Holdreth Khain.
"Doesn't look that way." Then I spotted something. "Hold it--what's
that?"
I crossed the room to the writing desk that stood against the far wall.
There was a small box on it and it was weighting down a piece of paper.