Ileth's apartment was on the ninety-eighth level, flush against the
transparent plastic dome which hermetically sealed in Adirondaka.
Jon Saxon followed the girl out of the lift, watching her with
admiration.
She was a slim, long legged creature in chartreuse green, jodhpur-like
trousers that moulded her slender waist and rounded hips with amazing
fidelity before flaring at her thighs.
Ileth Urban was as fetching a bit of scientist-bait as General Atomic
could have desired.
All the corporations used these girls. They scoured the Solar System
for the cleverest, most beautiful ones to be found. They paid them
fantastic wages and trained them to worm secrets from susceptible
males. Scientific Mata Hari's.
Government itself used them, Saxon was fully aware. Only by employing
even more ruthless measures than the corporations was government able
to maintain itself. Government had the finest research department
anywhere. And the Terrestial Intelligence Service was the most
efficient organization of its kind. Not only that; Government had
power, power unbelievable in its Space Navy.
Ileth paused, allowing him to come abreast of her, her hazel-green eyes
smiling at him.
Saxon hastily blocked out her thoughts in embarrassment. "_You're a
pretty little Judas_," he thought, then glanced up as a bright glare
lit the night sky.
A trail of orange flame streaked above the city and disappeared like
a meteor in reverse. The _Morning Star_, a crack luxury liner, was
heading out for Venus. It must be nineteen hours.
"Our last night," said Ileth softly. "Tomorrow we'll be leaving for
Alpha Centauri like that ship."
They had reached a door in the glistening plastic face of a building.
The door opened automatically, responsive to the girl's personal
vibration.
Saxon saw a lambent darkness beyond the entrance. The ceiling of
Ileth's apartment was the transparent rind of the city itself. The moon
streamed through the crystal plastic, lighting it faintly.
His nerves tightened, his sixth sense of feel exploring the apartment
for a trap.
But no warning tingle prickled his skin. Then the lights came on as
Ileth passed inside. They glowed from the walls like cold flame.
With a sigh of relief, Saxon saw that the chamber was empty.
"Sit down," said Ileth, "I'll get you a drink." She disappeared through
a doorway across the room, stripping her yellow green jacket from her
shoulders as she went.
Jon Saxon sank onto a lounge, following Ileth's progress by her
thoughts.
"_Soda. Where's that soda? Oh, here it is. Emil must have put it there.
Like a man._" Then, "_Contact Emil?_"
A moment's indecision. Saxon could almost hear the girl thinking. "_Not
yet_," she decided with a mental shiver. "_Saxon would be no good to us
dead._" Then, "_Make the drink strong. Take a gallon to make him drunk.
Big brute. Shoulders like a door. I could...._"
Saxon hastily blocked out her thought in embarrassment. The girl's mind
was too graphic.
For the hundredth time his brain grappled with the identity of those
alien telepaths who had warned him in the street tonight.
The radiation branch of Government's Bureau of Research had been
experimenting with thought projection. Could they have been successful?
It might account for the alien feel he had experienced for that
impenetrable barrier which had defeated his attempt to reach their
minds.
A machine?
Unconsciously, he shook his head. His sixth sense, the ability not
only to feel a presence but identify it almost as if he were seeing
it, convinced him that there had been life in the street, a strange
invisible form of life possibly; but the reality of it was inescapable.
In some ways his heightened sense of feel was more reliable than his
ears or eyes.
Ileth returned bearing a tray with glasses, a decanter of whiskey and
soda. "I wasn't long, was I?"
* * * * *
There was a hard bright glitter in her hazel-green eyes. Saxon saw
that she had changed to a halter and skirt of Martian microweb. He
swallowed, feeling a pulse beginning to tick in his throat. The
microweb was as black as the girl's hair, but not anywhere so thick.
Only her cold determination to keep him there until after the sailing,
which he could feel like a dash of cold water, defeated her purpose.
She handed him a glass, set the tray on an end table, switched on the
telecaster.
Instead of music, the newscaster was blaring forth the announcement of
the expedition to Alpha Centauri.
"... greatest page in the annals of the Empire. Tomorrow at nine hours
the _Shooting Star_ with a picked crew, with a staff of specialists
and representatives from all the great corporations will blast off for
Alpha Centauri.
"Under the directorship of John Villainowski of Government's Bureau of
Research, the man who developed the stellar drive, the expedition plans
to investigate the planetary systems of the Centaurian suns.
"His excellency, Mustapha IX, will be present...."
Ileth snapped off the telecaster.
"Jon," she asked and leaned against him, "why did you sneak out tonight
of all nights?"
He sensed the girl's tension, knew that it would be difficult to fool
her. Suddenly, he decided to quit beating around the bush and strike
straight into the heart of the opposing forces.
"I know you're an agent of General Atomic, Ileth. I've...!" He paused.
Ileth had gasped and drawn back from him. Her thoughts were in turmoil.
"_Emil! I must reach Emil!_" was clear.
Saxon went on inexorably. "I've wind of a plot by General Atomic
against the _Shooting Star_. If they could get their hands on the
stellar drive, no doubt they could control deep space. They'd be in a
position to dictate to Government."
Ileth was thinking furiously now, Saxon realized, trying to figure how
much he knew and how much he was guessing.
He laughed without amusement. He knew damned little, too damned little.
Only this morning, he had intercepted the stray thought of one of his
co-workers and realized that the man had sold out to General Atomic. To
his horror he had read in the man's mind where General Atomic, after
securing the stellar drive, intended to overthrow Government.
How General Atomic planned to get the drive, who else was in the plot,
the man hadn't known. He had been bribed to take orders from a G.A.
agent, whom he knew only as Q62.
Saxon couldn't inform the T.I.S. of his knowledge. He had no proof,
except what he had read in this one man's mind.
He had told Villainowski of his suspicions. The chief had promised to
set the T.I.S. onto the case, but they had turned up no evidence of any
kind against the great corporation.
General Atomic had done its work with utmost secrecy, not letting its
right hand know what its left hand was doing.
Saxon was desperate. He grasped the girl's slight shoulders. "What do
you know about it, Ileth?"
"I don't know anything. Oh Lord, Jon, I'm to be General Atomic's
representative aboard the _Shooting Star_, and they've told me nothing
of any plot against the ship. Nothing, Jon, I swear it."
With a disheartening feeling of defeat, Jon realized the girl was
telling the truth. She had been told nothing of General Atomic's plan.
She, too, he read in her frightened thoughts, had been instructed to
take orders from a General Atomic's agent whom she knew as Q62.
"Who's Q62?" he shot at her.