The second floor and the light dimmed slightly. It was the third floor then. He walked quietly back up the stairs and paused at the landing, listening. There were no sounds of anyone in the corridor. He walked casually down it. A doctor's office, a dentist's office, a hairdresser's, and an employment agency. The employment agency, he thought sharply. The perfect front, the perfect cover. The perfect way to recruit agents. He stopped quietly outside and unlimbered his heat gun from its shoulder holster. He turned the knob and walked in. And was suddenly aware that all noise had stopped, the air was heavy, and the dust motes in the stream of sunlight that lanced through the window were perfectly still. * * * * * "You took a long time getting here, Martin." She was standing in front of her desk, looking exactly as when he had seen her on the ramp in Chicago and on the street in the Paris suburb. A tall woman, a little on the thin side. Thick black hair that hung loosely about her face, making a frame for a pale skin and cold, green eyes. It was a hard, capable face with just a suggestion that at another time and another place, it might have been a beautiful face. Now.... A drawn face, with a tinge of sadness to it. Stan leveled his heat gun. She didn't move a muscle but patiently waited for him to press the stud. Don't talk to her, Tanner had said. Kill her on sight. But he hadn't come to kill her. Not yet. Not before he found out some information. He lowered his arm. "Don't tell me you've finally gotten sick of killing people," she said quietly. "No doubt it runs into hundreds," Stan said sarcastically. "I suppose any day now the apes will be getting suspicious." She shook her head, bitterly. "Not--they won't. It happens all the time. People die in lonely little rooms, people have accidents, people commit suicide. Or so the Terrans think. They never seem to look beyond." "You forget," Stan pointed out. "We've lost men, too. And I'm sure that not all of them died from natural causes." "Who have you lost, Martin? Thieves, dope peddlers, murderers, and worse? And what have I lost? Patriots, scientists, statesmen--the few who understand and believe and are willing to work with me." Stan shrugged impatiently. "You said I had taken a long time in getting here. I suppose you planned it that way." She looked surprised. "Why else do you think we stole the fusion packages? Just to keep you from replacing them? The Thuscans can supply you with all the packages you need. We wanted to give you something by which you could trace me." "It's a wonder you weren't killed before this." A half smile broke the granite lines of her face. "Nobody but you would have gotten this far, Martin." "So you got me here. What do you want?" She looked at him thoughtfully for a full minute, weighing him. "I want you to change sides, Martin. I want you to help us."