"In-spec-shun--_harms_!" the squad leader screamed. Twelve rifles snapped up to port, twelve bolts were slammed back. The squad leader walked down the line, examining rifle chambers. Three rifles to Hardesty's left, he stopped. "Here she is," he said. From the corner of his eye, Hardesty saw the girl, calm as murder, hurl her heavy rifle at the squad leader. The stock slammed across his face and knocked him down before he could parry it with his arms. The girl turned and fled up over the rim of the bomb crater. "Catch her!" bellowed the squad leader, who stood up, wiped the blood from his lips and sprinted toward the crater rim. Ten members of the squad followed him on the double. The penalty for jumping the gun was severe; the reward for catching the culprit, considerable. Hardesty did not follow the squad leader. He waited until the last of the squad had scrambled up the steep slope of the crater wall, waited until the drumming sound of feet on the buckled pavement faded, then approached the dead man still suspended from the firing post. The man's face looked peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. He wore a mackinaw, a pair of patched trousers and heavy rubble-boots. Hardesty could not see where the bullet had gone in. Approaching the corpse, Hardesty wondered if the girl who had fired prematurely would make good her escape. Lord knew there were places to hide in the bombed-out city. Hardesty began to hope they would capture her, though. It would simplify things. He did not know her name, but fifteen minutes before the execution he had tossed a coin with her. Hardesty had won. She would kill the condemned man prematurely, Hardesty would remain behind to go through his pockets for booty. Later on, they would meet at the stump of the Lever Brothers Building and divvy up. Provided she wasn't caught. Provided Hardesty remembered. Sucker, he thought. He reached the dead man and started through the big flap pockets of his mackinaw. A cold wind swirled into the crater, lifting a cloud of choking dust. The first red glow of the sun had faded, leaving a pale and watery orb to fight the gathering clouds in the eastern sky. It looked like snow was on the way. Hardesty found a tattered wallet in the left rear pocket of the man's trousers. "Hold it," a woman's voice called softly. Startled, Hardesty looked around. He saw no one. He might hurl himself behind the corpse and the firing post, his rifle ready--but the woman could have been crouched behind the embankment there. "What do you want?" Hardesty demanded in an arrogant voice. You were a goner if you showed fear. That's what they wanted, fear. "I'm armed. I have you covered. I can see you but you can't see me. Drop your rifle." Bluff? Hardesty wondered. "I'll count three."