Through the gaping hole in the wall behind them, Vickers could hear the
sounds of pursuit closing in, but he didn't look around.
"You little fool!" he said brutally, "do you want to get me killed? Do
what I say. This is my kind of work!"
Suddenly she leaned from the air taxi, kissed him hard on the mouth.
Her eyes were wet.
"I'll be waiting," she said, catching her breath; "you crazy Quixotic
idiot. I'll wait forever."
Then she slammed the door. The taxi roared, bull throated, and leaped
forward, bursting a hole in the false wall.
Vickers stared after the diminishing air cab, rubbing his mouth with
the back of his hand.
"I'll be damned," he said softly; "I'll be damned." Then he turned
around.
He was just in time to see the first of the Arab guards lunge through
the hole in the wall of the embassy.
Vickers hurled his other gas grenade. The egg-shaped glass bomb smashed
against the floor. Plumes of the pale green paralysis gas shot upward.
But Vickers didn't wait to see its effect.
He left through the hole torn by the air taxi, reached the pavement,
began to walk rapidly toward the corner, the snuff-brown burnoose
flapping about his ankles.
He had seconds only before the pursuit would develop again. The bomb
was a delaying action, no more.
* * * * *
Up ahead he could see a road block, and pedestrians milling around in
the street. A net hung from the level above, halting the air traffic.
The ISP was on the job.
"Out of the frying pan into the fire," he thought grimly. He glanced
back toward the house, although the Arabs couldn't possibly come
through the room until they'd procured a fan and blown the fumes clear.
An ISP patrol boat was gliding slowly up the street behind him. It was
manned by two men and was traveling just above the surface traffic.
A shallow, heavily armed and armored craft, it reminded Vickers of a
giant ray as it floated lazily through the air.
He jumped to the edge of the pavement, waved the patrol boat down
frantically.
It gave a low moan on its siren, swung in to the curb. The door opened.
The two men inside wore uniforms--smart blue breeches and blouses
trimmed in gold with the ISP insignia--three interlocking worlds
representing Earth, Venus and Mars--emblazoned on their shoulders. They
were both young and clean cut. Only their eyes looked old and hard.
"What's the trouble?" the officer nearest Vickers asked shortly.
"I saw him!" Vickers sounded excited. "I saw him!"
"Saw who?"
"The mutant!"
The ISP agents exchanged glances. At that instant Vickers hit the one
on the outside in the temple. He hit him with the handle of the atomic
knife. The man slumped forward, bumped his head against the slanting
windshield. Vickers was already sliding in beside him.
He shoved the unconscious agent to the floor boards, pressed the stud
on the knife handle. The blade of sparkling flame glittered into life.
"Take us up!" he said to the startled man at the controls; "and don't
touch the radio!" Almost as an afterthought he added softly: "I'm
Vickers. I'd just as soon die now, all at once, as be sent back to the
Jupiter Mines to die by degrees."
The ISP man blanched. He lifted the patrol boat into the air, sent it
scooting down the street. He kept dropping his eyes to the shimmering
blade of flame.
"Don't get that thing too close," he pleaded hoarsely.
Vickers said: "B624-1/2 Water Street, level 3. And I won't get the
blade too close if we get through without trouble."
"But suppose I'm ordered in?"
"That's your tough luck."
The ISP man was sweating. But he didn't dare remove his hands from the
controls. Beadlets of perspiration rolled down his cheeks and chin
unheeded.
As they approached the roadblock, he touched the siren. At its eerie
wail, a man hauled up the net, and the patrol boat slid beneath it.
Vickers let his breath escape. He was sweating too, he realized. His
forehead felt clammy as a dead fish.
They reached the blue door without being bothered, though. Vickers
stared at the sign:
INTERNATIONAL SPY RING
INCORPORATED
Secrets Bought and Sold
It was the one place in Luna City where the ISP couldn't reach him. But
would the ring give him sanctuary? He didn't know.
"They will," he thought; "they will, by Heaven, or take the
consequences!"
He said: "Here's where I leave you, officer. Thanks for the lift," and
slid out of the patrol boat.
The ISP man had guts. Vickers had taken his automatic, but the agent
reached for the emergency guns in the locker. Before he could shoot,
though, Vickers had disappeared through the blue door.
He sprang from the patrol boat, started after him. He was three feet
from the blue door when it vanished.
* * * * *
Inside the reception room, Vickers balanced on the balls of his feet,
the ISP agent's automatic in his hand. His mouth was a thin line.
Except for Vickers, the room was empty.
He was about to raise his nictitating lids when the door of the inner
office opened and Tani flew to meet him. Involuntarily, he jerked up
the automatic, but the girl didn't even notice it.
"Clyde!" she said, and threw her arms about him, clinging desperately
as if she were afraid to turn loose. "I've been so afraid." There was a
funny little catch in her voice.
Vickers stared down at her, refusing to believe his senses. Then she
tilted her head back, and he could see the relief and happiness shining
in her eyes--and something besides.
Vickers kissed her. All his doubts were suddenly swept away and somehow
the old hurts along with them.
"Mr. Vickers," the receptionist said.
He hadn't noticed her enter the room. But he looked up and she was
smiling too. There was no repugnance in her eyes.