Gabriel turned toward her, and his upper lip curled back over his teeth. "I'll throw her in to the bargain. You must have seen her when she wasn't banged up so you know she's not permanently disfigured. Isn't she worth taking a risk for?" Keats shrugged. "If the hounds pull you down, she'll be a legal widow anyway." "Yes, but you'd have no ... chance with her in the body you now have.... No chance," he repeated. His voice broke. "Never had a chance." "Go ahead, feel sorry for yourself," the other man said. "Nobody else will." Gabriel's face darkened, but he also had to control his temper to gain what he fancied were his own ends. "You won't deny that this hulk is better than the one you have now?" "Except that there's one thing about the head that I don't like." Gabriel stared in bewilderment. His body was beyond criticism. "What is it you don't like about the head?" "There's a price on it now." Gabriel pressed his spine against the back of the chair. "Don't play the innocent, Carmody. You've killed people, too." "Well, sure, but not out in the open like that. You know how many people saw you blast him? Too many. If you're going to exterminate somebody, you do it from a dark doorway or an alley--not in a brilliantly lit hotel lobby, and you blast him in the back. But there's no use giving you lessons; it's not likely you'll ever be able to use them where you're going." Gabriel suddenly sagged in his chair. He looked down at the floor. "So you won't do it?" Keats grew apprehensive. He hadn't expected the big man to give in to despair so soon--it might spoil all his plans and leave him trapped in this sick unwanted body. He lit a milgot. "I didn't say that," he pointed out, trying to sound unconcerned. "Matter of fact, I might even consider your proposition, if...." There was hope in Lockard's eyes again. It made Keats a little sick to think of the game he had to play with the other; then he thought of the game the other had played with him, the game the other had played with his wife, and the faint flickering of compassion died out in him. "What do you want?" Gabriel asked. Keats took a moment before he answered. "I want _all_ of what you've got." Gabriel uttered an inarticulate sound. "You can't take it with you, colleague. If we hulk-hop, it's got to be tonight, because the hounds will be baying on your trail any moment. You wouldn't have the chance to transfer the property to my name and, if you take my word that I'll hand over half afterward, you're just plain out of this dimension.... Think of it this way, Lockard--what's worth more to you, a couple of lousy billions or your freedom?" "All right, Carmody," Lockard said dully, "you're the dictator." XII The Vinzz' eyes flickered in astonishment. "_Another_ private game? However...." he shrugged eloquently. "It will cost you a hundred thousand credits each, gentlemen." "No discount for a steady customer?" Keats inquired lightly, though he was trembling inside.