* * * * * He licked his lips. More vigorous now, he snarled: "The plan fails, does it not? You think you have Zorchi out of the way, but he will not stay there." I said, "Zorchi, I'm sorry about all this I--I know more now than I did yesterday." He gaped. "Yesterday? Only _yesterday_?" He shook his head. "I would have thought a month, at the least. I have been crawling, assassin. Crawling for days, I thought." He tried to shrug--not easy, because he was leaning on his elbows. "Very well, Weels. You may take me back to finish the job now. Sticking me with a needle and putting me on ice will not work. Perhaps you should kill me outright." "Listen, Zorchi, I _said_ I was sorry. Let's let it go at that for a moment. I--I admit you shouldn't be here. The question is, how do you come to be awake?" "How not? I am Zorchi, Weels. Cut me and I heal; poison me and I cure myself." He spat furiously. "Starve me, however, and I no doubt will die, and it is true that you have come very near to starving me down here." He glowered at the shelves of cocooned bodies in the locked bay. "A pity, with all this pork and beef on the rack, waiting for me, but I find I am not a monster, Weels. It is a weakness; I do not suppose it would stop any Company man for a moment." "Look, Zorchi," I begged, "take my word for it--I want to help you. You might as well believe me, you know. You can't be any worse off than you are." He stared at me sullenly for a moment. Then, "True enough," he admitted. "What then, Weels?" I said hesitantly, "Well, I'd like to get you out of here...." "Oh, yes. I would like that, too. How shall we do it?" I rubbed the back of my neck thoughtfully, staring at him. I had had a sort of half-baked, partly worked out plan for rescuing Benedetto. Wake him up with the needle; find a medical orderly's whites somewhere; dress him; and walk him out. It wasn't the best of all possible plans, but I had rank enough, particularly with Defoe off in Rome, to take a few liberties or stop questions if it became necessary. And besides, I hadn't really thought I'd have to do it. I had fully expected--as recently as half an hour ago!--that I would find Benedetto raddled with gamma rays, a certainty for death if revived before the half-life period of the radioelements in his body had brought the level down to safety. * * * * * That plan might work for Benedetto. But Zorchi, to mention only one possible obstacle, couldn't walk. And Benedetto, once I took off his beard with the razor Rena had insisted I bring for that purpose, would not be likely to be recognized by anyone. Zorchi, on the other hand, was very nearly unforgettable. I said honestly, "I don't know."