"But where's he going?" A sob of rage choked Jeff's voice. "She sold us out, the bitch. She fingered me when she saw him come in--" His whole body trembled and the words tumbled out, almost incoherent. "But he must know the streets are blocked. Where's he running?" "You think I'm a mind reader? I don't know. There are no open buildings in the whole block but this place and the Hoffman Center. He can't go anywhere else and he can't get out of the block. We've got every escapeway sewed up tight. He'll have to come back here or be shot down out there." They watched the gloomy street, tears of rage in Jeff's eyes. His hands shook uncontrollably and his shoulders sagged in exhaustion and defeat. The tavern door had burst open and people were crowding out. Jeff and Ted Bahr moved back into the shadows of the alleyway and waited and listened. "There's got to be a shot!" Jeff burst out. "He couldn't have slipped through." He turned to Bahr frantically. "Could he have gone into the Center?" "On what pretense? They'd throw him to the Mercy Men--or the booby hatch, one or the other. He'd know better than to try." The sandy-haired man sank down on his haunches and gripped his side tightly. "He'll be back or we'll hear the shooting. He couldn't have slipped through." A three-wheeled jet car slid in to the curb, and a man came up to them, eyes wide. "Get him?" Bahr scowled. "No sign. How about the other boys?" The man blinked. "Not a whisper. He never reached the end of the block." "Did you check with Klett and Barker?" "They haven't seen a soul down here." Bahr glanced at Jeff sharply. "How about the streets behind? Any chance of a breakthrough there?" The man's voice was matter-of-fact. "It's airtight. He couldn't get through without somebody seeing him." He stepped back to the car and spoke rapidly into the talker for a moment or two. "Nothing yet." "Damn. How about Howie and the boys inside the place?" "Nothing from them either." Jeff's face darkened. "The Hoffman Center," he said slowly. "He got into the Center, somehow. He must have." "He'd have to have gilt-edged medical credentials to get in after hours. They don't mess around over there. And what would it gain him?" Jeff peered at Bahr in the darkness. "Maybe he wanted to be thrown to the Mercy Men. Maybe he's figured that as a last resort, he'll go in and volunteer, make a stab at the Big Cash." Bahr stared at the big man in horror. "Look--Conroe may be desperate, but he hasn't lost his mind. My God, man! He isn't crazy." "But he's scared." "Of course he's scared, but--" "How scared?" Bahr shrugged angrily. "He'd have to be on his last legs to take a gamble like that."