“Damn it!” yelled the panhandler. “You pull a weapon on me, drag me up here, accuse me of being someone I never heard of, and threaten to kill me! Isn’t that enough? Can’t you just leave me alone now?”

“After your dryshower,” said the Angel.

“I’m not getting undressed in front of a strange woman.”

“You can keep your clothes on.”

“Ma’am?” he pleaded, turning to Virtue. “Can’t you make him leave me alone? I’m just a street beggar who never did anyone any harm!”

“She’s not in charge here,” said the Angel, reaching out and grabbing him firmly by the wrist. “Let’s get on with it.”

The panhandler pulled back, and the Angel released him.

“All right,” muttered the panhandler. “You win.”

“Then he really is Simple Simon?” exclaimed Virtue.

“I told you he was.”

“Why the dryshower?” she asked.

“It’s the one thing a maid could reasonably be expected to leave alone, even if she cleaned the bathroom,” said the Angel. “And on a planet where the average temperature is somewhere around a hundred and twenty-five degrees, it’s the first thing you’d head for once you came back here.” He turned to Simon. “Am I right?”

Simple Simon nodded his head wearily.

“Explosives or lasers?” asked the Angel.

“Lasers.”

“Why do you want to kill me?” demanded Virtue.

“There’s a guy on Pegasus who’s put out a hit on you,” replied Simon.

“Dimitri Sokol?” she said, surprised.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“But he already tried on Goldenrod,” said Virtue. “I thought that was all over.”

“This isn’t a game, and it’s not played by gentleman’s rules,” interjected the Angel. “Just because Sokol’s failed once doesn’t mean he’s going to give up.” He paused. “When I spotted our friend here standing outside the hotel, I realized that I had been wrong about Santiago sabotaging the ship. Simon had to scout the place out last night in order to learn your number, so he had to know that I wasn’t staying here. The fact that he was here anyway meant it was you he was after. He was just waiting around so that he could confirm your death. Probably Sokol required a holograph, or maybe even your body itself.” The Angel turned to Simon. “Obviously you sabotaged my ship to keep her on Sunnybeach until you could kill her—but why go to such elaborate lengths? Why not just pick her off when we landed at the spaceport?”

Simon made no reply.

“If I have ask again,” said the Angel softly, “you’ll wish you had answered the first time.”

Simple Simon stared into his colorless eyes and decided that he was telling the truth.