It seemed a thin thread with which to strangle a monster. And yet, I thought of the picture of Millen Carmody in my Adjuster's Manual. There was the embodiment of honor. Where a Defoe might cut through the legalities and flout the letter of the agreements, Carmody would be bound by his given word. The question, then, was whether Defoe would dare to act against Carmody. Everything else made sense. Even exploding the bomb high over the Atlantic: It would be days before the first fall-out came wind-borne to the land, and in those days there would be time for the beginnings of the mass migration to the vaults. Wait and see, I told myself. Wait and see. It was flimsy, but it was hope, and I had thought all hope was dead. We could not stay in the hotel, and there was only one place for us to go. Slovetski captured, the Company after our scalps, the whole world about to be plunged into confusion--we had to get out of sight. * * * * * It took time. Zorchi's hospital gave me a clue; I tracked it down and located the secretary. The secretary spat at me over the phone and hung up, but the second time I called him he grudgingly consented to give me another number to call. The new number was Zorchi's lawyer. The lawyer was opaque and uncommunicative, but proposed that I call him back in a quarter of an hour. In a quarter of an hour, I was on the phone. He said guardedly: "What was left in Bay 100?" "A hypodermic and a bottle of fluid," I said promptly. "That checks," he confirmed, and gave me a number. And on the other end of that number I reached Zorchi. "The junior assassin," he sneered. "And calling for help? How is that possible, Weels? Did my _avocatto_ lie?" I said stiffly, "If you don't want to help me, say so." "Oh--" he shrugged. "I have not said that. What do you want?" "Food, a doctor, and a place for three of us to hide for a while." He pursed his lips. "To hide, is it?" He frowned. "That is very grave, Weels. Why should I hide you from what is undoubtedly your just punishment?" "Because," I said steadily, "I have a telephone number. Which can be traced. Defoe doesn't know you've escaped, but that can be fixed!" He laughed angrily. "Oh-ho. The assassin turns to blackmail, is that it?" I said furiously, "Damn you, Zorchi, you know I won't turn you in. I only point out that I can--and that I will not. Now, will you help us or not?" He said mildly, "Oh, of course. I only wished you to say 'please'--but it is not a trick you Company men are good at. Signore, believe me, I perish with loneliness for you and your two friends, whoever they may be. Listen to me, now." He gave me an address and directions for finding it. And he hung up.