It took him an hour to find satisfactory two-room quarters. The deciding factor in his choice, it finally turned out, was that one place offered bars on the bedroom window. Then that was done. Once again, Ross moved out into the streets ... checked a com-call reel in the nearest store. Zoltan Prenzz' address was less than ten minutes' walk away. Two doors from Prenzz' number, Ross paused in the shadows. Warily, he searched the street. Now a man appeared, moving too casually down the other side. Ross watched him till he was out of sight. Then, pivoting, he proceeded to Prenzz' address. No light showed. After a moment's hesitation, Ross knocked. No response. Ross rapped again, more sharply. Still no answer. Another moment's hesitation. Then, quickly, Ross slid a paper-thin variable tab into the lock-slot. There was a click of contacts made and contacts broken. Noiselessly, the door swung back. Swiftly, Ross stepped to one side and stood there, poised and waiting. Nothing. Or almost nothing. Ross sniffed. His forehead furrowed. He stepped across the threshold; sniffed again. Two more steps, and his foot struck something in the darkness. Stiff-fingered, he drew out his flamer; flicked it. Its light fell full on the face of Zoltan Prenzz. CHAPTER III SQUEEZE PLAY Prenzz was very dead. That was self-evident, without examination. No stench such as permeated this room ever could have come from living tissue. The odor grew worse by the moment. While Ross stared, his face a mask of numb, horrified disbelief, the corpse took on a strangely oozy look. Inside its clothes, the body began to lose its contours. Flesh sloughed from one cheek, then the other, as if putrefaction were somehow here motivated to race to destroy the evidence of crime. Shuddering, Ross flicked his light off, stumbled back to the door, and retched. He was still shaking his head as if to clear his nostrils of the cramped room's stench as he plunged into the shadows of the nearest alley. For a moment, there, he paused and stood frowning. Then, narrow-eyed, he fumbled through his tunic's pocket and came out with a now-familiar note-sheet ... unfolded it ... stared down at the name and address it bore: _Veta Hall, 417D Esrach Unit_. Folding the note-sheet again, Ross strode on through the alley to the next street, climbed into the first vacant transor, and punched the Esrach Unit button on the selector panel. The transor surged forward, gears whining as it picked up speed. Three minutes and a bewildering series of turns later, it ground to a halt once more, automatic door already lifting. Ross got out. But instead of going on into the unit, he left-faced, walked briskly down the street to the first corner, turned right, and so continued until, after another right turn, he stood directly behind the Esrach building.