The small houses gave way to larger business buildings, also cubical, and the lawns dwindled and vanished. Farther down, the buildings were even larger and the streets were wider and busier; but she was not going into the heart of Mars City. She turned into an office building, and studied the directory in the lobby. The offices were those of doctors and lawyers. On the directory she found "Charlworth Scion, Attorney-at-Law, Room 207." There was no elevator. Maya walked up the stairs and down a corridor, finding a door that had nothing on it but the number. She turned the knob and went in. The small outer office was uninhabited. It was carpeted and desked, with two straight chairs against a wall, for clients. Through a door, she could see part of the inner office, cluttered and stacked with papers and books. She stood there, hesitating. The outer door clicked shut behind her. At the sound, a gray-haired, preoccupied man with spectacles and stooped shoulders peered from the inner office. "Oh!" he said. "I'm sorry, my secretary went to lunch a bit early today. Can I help you, Miss?" "I'm looking for Mr. Scion," she said. "I'm Charlworth Scion." "Terra outshines the Sun," said Maya. Scion's eyes were suddenly wary behind the spectacles. "Well, well," he murmured. "Come in, please." She went into the cluttered inner office, and Scion closed and locked the door. "And you are ...?" said Scion behind his desk, his pale hands fumbling aimlessly with papers. "Maya Cara Nome," she said. Scion found a paper and scanned it. He apparently found her name there. "I'm surprised to see you here," he admitted. "Our information was that you would be working entirely alone." "I am," said Maya. "Or I was. I was told not to contact you unless I had to, Mr. Scion, but it seems I'm going to need some help." Scion inclined his head, but said nothing. "As you may or may not know, my specific assignment is to locate the nerve center of rebellious activity," said Maya. "It seems that the rebels have an intelligence network about as effective as the government's, and it was felt that a woman tourist from Earth might be successful where any unusual probing by local agents might arouse suspicion." "That's true," conceded Scion. "I doubt that they're really sure of the identity of more than a few of our agents, but sometimes I think they have a card file on every person on Mars. We have to be very careful that movements of our agents are consistent with their pretended occupations." "I have a reliable tip that their nerve center is the Childress Barber College here," she said. "I can't find out anything, though, unless I get into the building over a period of time. As a woman, I can't very well apply to study barbering." "No," said Scion. "I see your problem." He turned to a filing cabinet, unlocked it and searched through it, whistling tunelessly. He found a folder, pulled it out and studied it.