"Stenn," I said. "Get in the T-Bird. Head back the way we came, and don't slow down to read any billboards." Stenn didn't move. * * * * * "Get going," I said. "Slim won't shoot." "I employed you," Stenn said, "to take care of the heroics." "If you've got any better ideas it's time to speak up, Stenn. This is your only out, the way I see it." Stenn looked at the man with the gun. "You referred to someone named 'Maxy.' Would that by any chance be Mr. Max Arena?" Slim looked at him and thought about it. "Could be," he said. Stenn came slowly over to the Slav. Standing well out of the line of fire, he carefully put a hand in the loose pocket of the weather suit and brought out the pistol. I saw Slim's eyes tighten. He was having to make some tough decisions in a hurry. Stenn moved offside, pistol in hand. "Move away from him, Smith," he said. I didn't know what he had in mind, but it didn't seem like the time to argue. I moved back. "Drop your gun," he said. I risked a glance at his mild expression. "Are you nuts?" "I came here to see Mr. Arena," he said. "This seems an excellent opportunity." "Does it? I--" "Drop it now, Smith. I won't warn you again." I dropped it. Slim swiveled on Stenn. He was still in an awkward spot. "I want you to take me to Mr. Arena," Stenn said. "I have a proposition to put before him." He lowered the gun and handed it to Heavy. It seemed like a long time until Slim lowered his gun. "Heavy, put him in the back seat." He motioned me ahead, watched me as he climbed in the T-Bird. "Nice friends you got, mug," he said. The T-Bird started up, backed, and roared off toward the city. I stood under the polyarcs and watched the tail glare out of sight. Max Arena was the man I had come to the city to find. III Old number 16 was canted against the deflector rail, one side shredded into curled strips of crumpled metal. I looked closer. Under the flimsy fairings, gray armor showed. Maybe there was more to Haug's best hack than met the eye. I climbed in and kicked over the starter. The turbos sounded as good as ever. I eased the gyros in; she backed off the rail with a screech of ripped metal. I had lost my customer, but I still had wheels. The smart thing to do now would be to head back out the turnpike to Haug's lot, turn in my badge and keep moving, south. I could give up while I was still alive. All I had to do was accept the situation. I had a wide choice. I could sign on with the New Confeds, or the Free Texans, or any one of the other splinter republics trying to set up shop in the power vacuum. I might try to get in to one of the Enclaves and convince its Baron he needed another trained bodyguard. Or I could take a post with one of the king-pins in the city. As a last resort I could go back and find a spot in the Naples organization. I happened to know they had a vacancy.