"A simple order, for Siggen." The fat man had his vanity. "Give me a day to plan it. You have my word." "Can I depend on it?" "Men have said many things about Siggen, but never that his word was not good." "Then it's settled," Ostby said. "I'll be back tomorrow." "Just a minute before you go." The old man unclasped his puffy hands. "You are an unusual man and you intrigue me. Would you mind telling me your name?" "Not at all. It's James Ostby." "Ostby ... Ostby ..." the fat man pondered slowly. Then his head came up. "The Berserker!" he said. He whistled low, under his breath. "Tell me," he said, "why have we never met before. Or, if not, why are we meeting now?" Ostby shrugged. "Perhaps because I have little confidence in others." "You do have the reputation of being a lone wolf." Siggen remarked slowly. "After this business is over I'd be glad to consider consolidating our, ah, talents. We could go far together." "You offer me this when you know me so little?" "The best test of good relations between men is an instinctive liking," Siggen said. "I feel we have this, plus a common purpose." "I'll think it over," Ostby replied. "In the meantime I'll expect results tomorrow." Ostby lay flat on his stomach with his head facing the window in front of him. The window was set flush with the floor and he had a good view of the Stalls across the street. The Stalls was a squat, three-story building, with a basement and a sub-basement. The upper three stories were occupied by government offices. The basement housed the heating equipment and was used as a storage space. But it was the sub-basement that gave the place its name. Here the slaves were kept until sold. * * * * * The deserted office room in which Ostby lay had been closed for many months, and it was hot inside, and close. The sun shining through the windows added to the heat, and the film of moisture that bathed his body had long since developed small rivulets that collected in sodden patches of his clothing. "How much longer will it be, Groves?" Ostby asked. "There's no way of knowing." The young man who sat with his back resting against the wall had wilted under the heat and crawled over out of the sunlight. "As soon as it's safe," he said. "Let me know if you see anyone coming out." "I thought Siggen had fixed it so we could get in without any trouble?" "He bribed the guards," Groves replied. "But you saw those two men go in. I recognized one of them as Boorrls of the secret police. They're liable to turn up any place, any time. We'd be sticking our necks out to go in while they're there."