He would take _Mozart's Lady_ daringly outward, beyond Neptune's orbit. Naturally, the ship wouldn't have interstellar drive, but as yet Bartock wasn't going interstellar. You couldn't have everything. You couldn't expect a starship on Triton, could you? So Bartock would take _Mozart's Lady_ outward to Pluto's orbit--and wait. From the amount of hand luggage taken aboard, _Mozart's Lady_ would be carrying quite a number of passengers. If that number were reduced--drastically reduced--the food, water and air aboard would last for many months. Until the fuss died down. Until Bartock could bring _Mozart's Lady_, long since given up for lost, in for a landing on one of the inner planets.... Now he dragged the dead pilot's body into the complete darkness on the south side of the pilot-barracks, wishing he could hide it better but knowing he didn't have the time or the means. Then he walked boldly across the tarmac, wearing a pilot's uniform, toward _Mozart's Lady_. Fifteen minutes later, House Bartock watched with amazement while a hundred pretty young women boarded the ship. Of all the things that had happened since his escape, this came closest to unnerving him, for it was the totally unexpected. Bartock shrugged, chain-smoked three cigarettes while the women boarded slowly, taking last-minute looks at dark Triton, the spaceport, the cordon of guards, the arc-lights. Bartock cursed impotently. Seconds were precious now. The pilot's body might be found. If it were.... At last the port clanged shut and the ground-crew tromped away. Since even an over-age ship like _Mozart's Lady_ was close to ninety percent automatic, there was no crew. Only the pilot--who was Bartock--and the passengers. Bartock was about to set the controls for blastoff when he heard footsteps clomp-clomping down the companionway. He toyed with the idea of locking the door, then realized that would arouse suspicion. A square woman's face over a plump middle-aged figure. "I'm Mrs. Moriarity, pilot. I have a hundred young girls aboard. We'll have no nonsense." "No, sir. I mean, no ma'am." "Well, make sure." "Yes, ma'am." "And I want an easy trip, without fuss or incidents. For half of our girls it's the second time in space--the first being when they came out here. You understand?" "Yes, ma'am." "What happened to the pilot who took us out?" "Uh, pressed into service last week on a Mercury run. I'm surprised the control board didn't tell you." "They didn't. It doesn't matter. You do your job, and that's all." "Yes, ma'am," House Bartock said. "Just my job." A few moments later, _Mozart's Lady_ blasted off. * * * * * "Stop! Hey, wait!" Pitchblend Hardesty bawled at the top of his voice. But it didn't do any good. The police rushed up behind Pitchblend, not daring to fire. Moments before, they had found the dead pilot's body. They knew at once what it meant, of course. They had been not more than a minute too late.