“Such as—?”

“How about a million League credits? That’s a good round number.”

“Done.” Alak reached for his checkbook. “Only I’ll give you my personal check. Then if I’m killed and you escape”—he grinned in the sullen red light—“it’ll do you no good, because I haven’t near that much in my account. But if we both survive, the Patrol will transfer a million to me and you’ll get ’em.”

“How do I know you won’t welsh?”

“You don’t. But if you think back, you may recall that the Patrol has that much honor. Not that we have any notions about the sacredness of oaths—I’ve committed perjury often enough when the occasion called for it—but we don’t want to antagonize allies such as yourself. You, for instance, get around. You have contacts. We may have other jobs for you in the future.”

“I may be a sivva runner,” said Slinh contemptuously, “but I haven’t yet sunk to being a Patrolman.” He took the check and laid it carefully in the purse worn about his neck. “Very well. Now I’ve given you a hideout, but you can’t stay here long. So I’ll help you along further in case you can find a way for us both to get off this planet.”

“If I complete my job, we both will,” replied Alak. “If I don’t, it’ll be too bad—for me at any rate.” He looked into the dripping gloom of the tunnel. The light was like blood on his thin pale face.

Slinh shivered. “You’re crazy as well as a crook,” he said. “Two hunted, weaponless beings against an armed system—Starfire, even stereofilms don’t indulge in that kind of trash any more.” He huddled closer to the heater. “Why doesn’t your glorious Patrol just bring its great battle fleet over here and tell the Luanians there’ll be peace or else? What kind of policeman is it that makes deals with criminals and skulks in old sewers?”

Alak ignored the complaint. Presently he stirred, holding cold hands over the red glow. “Voal is officially only premier of Luan and its colonies on other planets,” he said. “But he has influence enough to swing events as he wishes.”

“Unfortunately, he believes in what he says. You can’t bribe him.”

“No, maybe not. Unless the price was sufficiently high—Look, he’s married. He has two little children and I don’t think those pictures of him playing with them are all posed.”

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking—” began Slinh. “Anyway, the secret service guards—”

Alak took the vibrosphere out of his pocket. “I fooled them with this once,” he said. “It’s a secret Patrol weapon and it may fool them again. It has to!” Briefly, he explained its operation. Then he went on, his voice rising with excitement:

“Voal has a private estate in the country, about fifty kilometers from here. His family should be there—and you can carry a three-year-old child—”

* * *

They sneaked out of the tunnel after dark, emerging in a narrow alley of the Old City. Crouching back into the shadows, they strained their senses—no, no vigilance beyond routine patrols and the tension that lay like a shroud over the whole planet, the expectation of death from the skies. The whole capital huddled under its force dome, waiting for the hammer blows of hyperatomic bombs and gravity snatchers, the silent murder of radiodust and biotoxin and all the synthetic hell which could lay waste a world in hours. Whether or not the enemy bombardments could penetrate that shield was an open question—it was the business of the navy to see that the matter was never decided, by going to Marhal and blowing the system open before the Marhalians took off for Luan.