Somewhere to the west of the city a Mars-bound rocket rose on its fiery tail with a roar, higher and higher on its wings of flame until its roar had dwindled to a high, penetrating whine. It flickered in the morning sun, and disappeared. Griffin awoke with a jolt, and stared out the window of the hotel, watching the rocket move like an arrow across the sky, a sight that he had always loved. Then he rolled back with a groan, the anger and fear of the night before rushing back into his sleep-dulled mind like a nightmare. He had not found them. When he had finally taken the room, and fallen down fully clothed on the bed to sleep, he knew he had reached a dead end. He could do nothing but wait now. And knowing what he knew, he was afraid to wait. And then he heard a sound in the room, and jerked upright, and saw the girl standing in the door. She was watching him as he lay there, her face without expression. She might have been pretty once; her hair had been long and shining black, and there was even a trace of a wave left in it, a pitiful attempt to pin it back in some semblance of order. But her face was hard, and she watched him with sharp dark eyes like an animal's. He sat up slowly, his feet on the cold floor. "All right," he said. "What do you want? How did you get in here?" Her lips curled into a sneer. "You can go where you want to. Why can't I?" His eyes drifted to her wrist. It was blank. "Who are you?" "You don't recognize me? With all the slinking around and watching through the corner of your eye, you haven't even seen me before?" She sank down in a chair, regarding him as if he were some sort of bug. "I spotted you up in the restaurant last night. I've been following you ever since. You didn't know that?" He was on his feet now, a snarl of anger in his throat. He started across the room for the telephone, and she said, "You'd better leave that alone." "I'm going to call the police." "The police won't help you. You're dead, remember? Or was it somebody else's records you were looking up last night?" He whirled on her, his eyes blazing. "Get out of here," he said, "before I throw you out." The girl's face was contemptuous. "Sit down, buddy," she said. "You Retreads really think you're God Almighty, don't you? Walk out all shiny and new, and you think you own the world, with your pretty Free Agent stripe and all the tripe that goes with it." Comprehension began to seep through now. The girl's voice was bitter. Griffin sat down, watching the girl closely. "What have you got against Free Agents?" "Plenty, buster." "Like what, for instance?"