"Who are you?" he said at last. Puzzlement kindled in the girl's eyes, was as quickly erased. "I'm Jean--Harlon," she said slowly. She gestured about the ship. "Why did you kidnap me?" The Falcon laughed, and youth was in his face again, some of the bitter lines softening and erasing utterly away. "It wasn't planned," he admitted. "I was being chased--I saw your ship taxiing into a parking place--and I commandeered it." He shrugged. "You just happened to be the ship's pilot." Amusement lifted the girl's mouth for a moment, then concern deepened the blue of her eyes. She glanced at the calculator, saw that a course had been set, and a tiny muscle twitched in her throat. "I'm going with you!" It was a statement. Curt Varga nodded. "Sorry," he said, "but that's the way it has to be. Only two men knew my identity--and they're dead. The few IP's who saw me tonight are also dead. It's a safety measure." Jean Harlon stiffened slightly. "I could give my word," she said slowly. The Falcon shook his head. "Sorry, but the stakes are too big for me to risk another's word." He nodded at the empty seat. "Sit down," he finished kindly. "In some ways, I'm not quite as bad as I am painted." Curt Varga tensed, felt the probing finger of thought digging at his mind. He threw up a mind-shield almost casually, grinned mockingly. "A _telepath_?" he said conversationally. * * * * * Irritation colored the girl's cheeks; then reluctant admiration came into her eyes. She accepted a _pulnik_ capsule, deftly rolled a cigarette, before answering. "Not many could dismiss me that easily," she asserted. "I had five years at NYU, on Earth." She accepted a light for the cigarette. Curt Varga nodded. "Old habit," he disclaimed. "I used to play space-rocketry with the thought-men of Pluto; the guy with an unshielded mind never had a chance." Jean Harlon's gaze was speculative. "What happened?" she said. "Or am I stepping on your toes?" The Falcon's face was twisted then with a show of emotion that brought a glance of disbelief from the girl. And then resolve flared in the set of his shoulders, and his voice was steady. "I was making agent-contacts. One of my men must have tipped the IP, for they came into my 'headquarters' and made a quiet search. I would have got away, but for the fact they used that diabolic paralysis beam on a friend of mine. He pointed me out." Curt shrugged. "I had to fight my way from the trap. My brother was killed. I escaped through the conduit system, came out on the spaceport. You know the rest." "Your brother was killed!" Loathing was in Jean Harlon's eyes. "And you can sit there, and talk calmly about it?" Anger and grief unsteadied the Falcon's voice for a moment.