"Come along with me. Over in this direction." He and Reinhart climbed the side of a demolished hill, both of them panting for breath. "I was landing. I saw a figure emerge from a lift and run toward the mountains, like some sort of animal. When he came out in the open I dived on him and released a phosphorus bomb." "Then he's--_dead_?" "I don't see how anyone could have lived through a phosphorus bomb." They reached the top of the hill. Dixon halted, then pointed excitedly down into the pit beyond the hill. "There!" They descended cautiously. The ground was singed and burned clean. Clouds of smoke hung heavily in the air. Occasional fires still flickered here and there. Reinhart coughed and bent over to see. Dixon flashed on a pocket flare and set it beside the body. The body was charred, half destroyed by the burning phosphorus. It lay motionless, one arm over its face, mouth open, legs sprawled grotesquely. Like some abandoned rag doll, tossed in an incinerator and consumed almost beyond recognition. "He's alive!" Dixon muttered. He felt around curiously. "Must have had some kind of protection screen. Amazing that a man could--" "It's him? It's really him?" "Fits the description." Dixon tore away a handful of burned clothing. "This is the variable man. What's left of him, at least." Reinhart sagged with relief. "Then we've finally got him. The data is accurate. He's no longer a factor." Dixon got out his blaster and released the safety catch thoughtfully. "If you want, I can finish the job right now." At that moment Sherikov appeared, accompanied by two armed Security police. He strode grimly down the hillside, black eyes snapping. "Did Cole--" He broke off. "Good God." "Dixon got him with a phosphorus bomb," Reinhart said noncommittally. "He had reached the surface and was trying to get into the mountains." Sherikov turned wearily away. "He was an amazing person. During the attack he managed to force the lock on his door and escape. The guards fired at him, but nothing happened. He had rigged up some kind of force field around him. Something he adapted." "Anyhow, it's over with," Reinhart answered. "Did you have SRB plates made up on him?" Sherikov reached slowly into his coat. He drew out a manila envelope. "Here's all the information I collected about him, while he was with me." "Is it complete? Everything previous has been merely fragmentary." "As near complete as I could make it. It includes photographs and diagrams of the interior of the globe. The turret wiring he did for me. I haven't had a chance even to look at them." Sherikov fingered the envelope. "What are you going to do with Cole?" "Have him loaded up, taken back to the city--and officially put to sleep by the Euthanasia Ministry." "Legal murder?" Sherikov's lips twisted. "Why don't you simply do it right here and get it over with?"