Now he was doubly in debt to Dr. Minton. But he couldn't spare the doctor even now, for his life had been given a new direction and purpose. He was going to kill the Scholar. He walked rapidly through the dark streets towards the public parking lot where the helicopter had been stored. He took the lift to the roof, and walked up to it quickly. "It's about time, pal." It was Shock, his hair tousled over his hard, bright eyes. There was a gun in his hand. "I've been waitin' an hour, you punk. Think you were gettin' off so easy?" "Look, Shock--" "You thought you were a clever boy, didn't you? Well, I got news for you--" "Look, I don't want to be leader. I just needed a copter for a few hours." "Yeah, sure. Only you forgot something. We put Finder equipment on this baby a long time ago, so we could keep tabs on it." "You can _have_ the copter--" "I don't want just the copter, Ronnie boy. I want to square a few things with you." "Look, Shock. I'll make a deal with you. I'll give you two hundred bucks for that gun." The tall boy's face changed. "What?" "You heard me. You hand over that gun, I'll give you two hundred dollars." His eyes narrowed. "Then what? I suppose you'd shoot me and take off. Uh-uh, pal." "You can check the gun downstairs, and sell me the key." "Okay," Shock said slowly. "But if you're pullin' something--" He balled his hands menacingly. They went down to the lower level together. Shock bought himself a public locker, and shoved the gun inside. Then he held up the key. "Here it is, pal. Two hundred bucks worth." Ron handed him the money. Shock whistled at the sight of the bills. "Now," Ron said. "Would you like to make a hundred more?" He looked at Ron with respect. "Okay. What's the pitch?" "I want you to make a phone call for me." "Yeah, sure." Shock looked bewildered. Then Ron explained. They reached the guard in the East Wing of the Medical Center without much difficulty. Shock crouched over the receiver and said: "This is Dr. Luther. Something's happened; you better connect me with _him_." "Okay, hold on." There was a wait. Then Ron Carver's own voice, in its eerie new inflection, was on the other end. "What is it?" "This is Luther. Something's happened down here. I think the boy got away." "What? Where are you?" "In the morgue, downstairs. I think you better come down yourself." "How could it happen?" The Ron-voice was raging. "How?" "I don't know. But you better meet me here in ten minutes--" Ron jabbed Shock in the side, and the tall boy slammed the receiver back into place with a relieved sigh. "I don't get it," he said. "Who was that guy?" "Me," Ron said, with a grim smile. He handed Shock the money, and watched him depart, still looking baffled. Then he went to the locker and removed the gun, stuffing it inside his jacket. It bulked large against his narrow chest. He raced through the streets back to the medical center, heading for Exit N and the morgue.