"Look, Pal, use your head! If I was a John Law would I merely have stopped you? I'd be arresting you--or killing you for pulling that knife on me. I tell you I'm clean--and that I want an 'in' on Simonides." "I heard, too, there was good pickings on Sime," the man said slowly. "'Course, I'm not in on anything special, myself, not in on it. This here's a purely personal grudge deal. But you prob'ly did me a good turn, a good turn, and if you want to look me up after we land, I maybe could introduce you to a man or two. I didn't know old Abrams carried one of them needlers, didn't know that." The thanks in his gruff voice showed his respect for those silent, deadly little guns. That name--Abrams--rang a bell in Hanlon's mind, though he quickly decided he'd better let it lie for the moment--file it away for future investigation. He smiled in comradely fashion. "The way you were walking into it made me sure you didn't know. And thanks. Maybe I will look you up. I don't know anyone on Simonides, and it doesn't hurt to have a friend or three. Where do I find you there?" "Evenings I'm often at the Bacchus Tavern. And," with a sinister grimace, "if you come, you'd better pray that '_he_' likes you, you'd sure better!" Chapter 9 SS man George Hanlon went slowly back to his room where he could think seriously without the outside abstractions he would be sure to encounter in any of the public rooms. He had made a good bid, he thought, for contact with what he felt sure must be the group he wanted to get in with. Hanlon felt Panek's statement that he, personally, was not in on it, was just so much hog-wash. That last crack about "you'd better pray that 'he' likes you," was almost sure proof. But what did it mean? Who was this "he," and why had Hanlon better pray "he" liked him? Probably the leader ... and if so, undoubtedly a dangerous man to play around with. Hanlon remembered the fear of his boss he'd read in Panek's mind. Also, what about Abrams? Hanlon felt sure it was the same man he had guarded that day. Oh, oh, was that "failure" he had also read in Panek's mind that unsuccessful attempt he, Hanlon, had thwarted? Was Panek--and through him this as-yet-unmet leader--behind that attempt on Abrams' life? These were questions he could not answer yet--not enough data. But he would have to find the answers sometime. And once in Panek's gang, he might find them. And even if this particular gang was not the one doing the plotting in which the Corps was so interested, Hanlon felt that getting into even one of the organized gangs on Simonides would be a step in the right direction. But he would have to watch his step. Those fellows would be about as safe to play with as a pitful of cobras. For a long moment he grew cold with fear; a deadly, paralyzing terror that twisted his vitals into hard, hard knots. What business did he have, mixing with mature, deadly killers such as these?