Woller's door was locked, of course. Nolan bent over the keyhole for a second. There was a tinny, springy _click_, and the door drifted open under the slow pressure of his hand. The room was large and empty. A library, perhaps, as well as he could judge by the intermittent blood-tinted light that filtered in from an advertising stereolume across the street. Nolan flipped his cigarette lighter out, held it aloft and pressed the button. In the dim glow it shed he saw twin doors. After a moment's hesitation, he chose one, opened it gently, slipped through into a bedroom. A night light glowed softly on the wall, revealing nothing. Nolan sniffed the air curiously, then wrinkled his nose. Perfume! Woller had added a new vice to his character. Nolan grimaced contemptuously, then moved toward the indistinct figure on the bed. His right hand dipped inside his shirt, came away with the slim pyro protruding from his fist. "Woller," he said. "Wake up. You've got company." * * * * * There was a rustle from the bed, a gasp, a metallic click. Nolan jumped back, cursing. He flung an arm over his head as the overhead lumes burst into blinding light. But he'd caught a quick, stunning glimpse of what was on the bed and, quicker than starflight, his pyro jutted toward the lumes, flared wickedly. All lights died as the blast shorted the wires. It had been a girl in the bed, blinking up sleepily, mouth a taut line of surprise. _The_ girl--the one from the skid, the one he'd encountered in Annihilation Range! She had no more of a look at him than he at her, and she had been sleep-dazed, staring up at the light. Perhaps she hadn't recognized him-- "Hold still," he hissed--there is no personality to a whisper. "Where's Alan Woller?" "Who are you?" the girl's voice came, a trifle unsteady. Good--she hadn't recognized him! Nolan laughed voicelessly. "I'm the man with the gun," he replied. "I ask the questions. Where's Woller?" "None of your business," the girl said. There was a note of confidence in her voice, and suddenly Nolan felt a furtive movement from the bed. Was there an alarm--a bell to summon servants? "Hold it!" he whispered sharply. "One wrong move and I'll kill you. I mean business--and I want an answer." The girl's voice was even now. "I won't give one." Nolan's brows drew down over his eyes. What was this girl to Woller? Whatever the connection was, by rights he should take no chances. The girl was a danger to him--and the life of no woman on Woller's string should be permitted to stand between him and the chance for vengeance on the man who had framed him. "I'll give you ten seconds," he whispered harshly.