"Left alone, he would go to the police. Kidnapped, he would be worse than useless. Harmful, actually, for the authorities would suspect something. Even worse if we killed him. The point is, we don't want the authorities to think Temple gave information to anybody." "Gave is hardly the word," said Sophia. "I was a good wife, but also a good gleaner. One hundred thousand dollars, Charles." "You bitch," Temple said. "Later," Charles told the woman. "The solution is this, Sophia: we must kill Temple, but it must look like suicide." Sophia frowned in pretty concern. "Do we have to ... kill him?" "What's the matter, my dear? Have you been playing the wifely role too long? If Temple stands in the way of Red Empire, Temple must die." Temple edged forward. "Uh-uh," said Charles, "mustn't." He waved the automatic and Temple subsided. "Is that right?" Sophia demanded. "Well, you listen to me. I have nothing to do with your Red Empire. I fled the Iron Curtain, came here to live voluntarily--" "Do you really think it was on a voluntary basis that you went? We allowed you to go, Sophia. We encouraged it. That way, the job of our technicians was all the simpler. Whether you like it or not, you have been a cog in the machine of Red Empire." "I still don't see why he has to die." "Leave thinking to those who can. You have a smile, a body, a certain way with men. I will think. I think that Temple should die." "I don't," Sophia said. "We're delaying needlessly. The man dies." And Charles raised his automatic, sufficiently irked to forget his suicide plan. A gap of eight or nine feet separated the two men. It might as well have been infinity--and it would be soon, for Temple. He saw Charles' small hand tighten about the automatic, saw the trigger finger grow white. The weapon pointed at a spot just above his navel and briefly he found himself wondering what it would feel like for a slug to rip into his stomach, burning a path back to his spine. He decided to make the gesture at least, if he could do no more. He would jump for Charles. Sophia beat him to it--and because Lucy was dead and Sophia looked exactly like her and Temple could not quite accept the fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Cat-quick, Sophia leaped upon Charles' back and they went down together in a twisting, thrashing tangle of arms and legs. Temple did not wait for an invitation. He launched himself down after them, and then things began to happen ... fast. Sophia rolled clear, rose to her hands and knees, panting. Charles sat up cursing, nursing a badly scratched face. Temple hurtled at him, stretched him on his back again, began to pound hard fists into his face. Charles did not have the automatic. Neither did Temple.