At the beginning of the second week, Lankey told Baque, “We've got Denton licked. I've countered every move he's made, and now we're going to make a few moves. You're going on visiscope again. I'm making application today. We're a legitimate business, and we've got as much right to buy time as anyone else. If he won't give it to us, I'll sue. But he won't dare refuse.”
“Where do you get the money for this?” Baque asked.
Lankey grinned. “I saved it up—a little of it. Mostly I've had help from people who don't like Denton.”
Denton didn't refuse. Baque did an Earth-wide program direct from Lankey's, with Marigold Manning introducing him. He omitted only the Sex Music.
Quitting time at Lankey's. Baque was in his dressing room, wearily changing. Lankey had already left for an early-morning conference with his attorney. They were speculating on Denton's next move.
Baque was uneasy. He was, he told himself, only a dumb musician. He didn't understand legal problems or the tangled web of connections and influence that Lankey negotiated so easily. He knew James Denton was evil incarnate, and he also knew that Denton had enough money to buy Lankey a thousand times over, or to buy the murder of anyone who got in his way. What was he waiting for? Given enough time, Baque might deliver a deathblow to the entire institution of Coms. Surely Denton would know that.
So what was he waiting for?
The door burst open, and Marigold Manning stumbled in half undressed, her pale face the bleached whiteness of her plastic breast cups. She slammed the door and leaned against it, sobs shaking her body.
“Jimmy,” she gasped. “I got a note from Carol—that's his secretary. She was a good friend of mine. She says Jimmy's bribed our guards, and they're going to kill us on the way home this morning. Or let Jimmy's men kill us.”
“I'll call Lankey,” Baque said. “There's nothing to worry about.”
“No! If they suspect anything they won't wait. We won't have a chance.”
“Then we'll just wait until Lankey gets back.”
“Do you think it's safe to wait? They know we're getting ready to leave.”
Baque sat down heavily. It was the sort of move he expected Denton to make. Lankey picked his men carefully, he knew, but Denton had enough money to buy any man. And yet—
“Maybe it's a trap. Maybe that note's a fake.”
“No. I saw that fat little snake Hulsey talking with one of your guards last night, and I knew then that Jimmy was up to something.”
“What do you want to do?” Baque asked.
“Could we go out the back way?”
“I don't know. We'd have to get past at least one guard.”
“Couldn't we try?”
Baque hesitated. She was frightened—she was sick with fright—but she knew far more about this sort of thing than he did, and she knew James Denton. Without her help he'd never have got out of the Visiscope International building.
“If you think that's the thing to do, we'll try it.”
“I'll have to finish changing.”
“Go ahead. Let me know when you're ready.”
She opened the door a crack and looked out cautiously. “No. You come with me.”
Minutes later, Baque and Miss Manning walked leisurely along the corridor at the back of the building, nodded to the two guards on duty there, and with a sudden movement were through the door. Running. A shout of surprise came from behind them, but no one followed. They dashed frantically down an alley, turned off, reached another intersection, and hesitated.
“The conveyer is that way,” she gasped. “If we can reach the conveyer—”
“Let's go!”
They ran on, hand in hand. Far ahead of them the alley opened onto a street. Baque glanced anxiously upward for air cars and saw none. Exactly where they were he did not know.
“Are we—being followed?” she asked.
“I don't think so,” Baque panted. “There aren't any air cars, and I didn't see anyone behind us when we stopped.”
“Then we got away!”
A man stepped abruptly out of the dawn shadows thirty feet ahead. As they halted, stricken dumb with panic, he walked slowly toward them. A hat was pulled low over his face, but there was no mistaking the smile. James Denton.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” he said. “Visiscope International hasn't been the same without your lovely presence. And a good morning to you, Mr. Baque.”
They stood silently, Miss Manning's hand clutching Baque's arm, her nails cutting through his shirt and into his flesh. He did not move.
“I thought you'd fall for that little gag, Beautiful. I thought you'd be just frightened enough, by now, to fall for it. I have every exit blocked, but I'm grateful to you for picking this one. Very grateful. I like to settle a double cross in person.”
Suddenly he whirled on Baque, his voice an angry snarl. “Get going, Baque. It isn't your turn. I have other plans for you.” Baque stood rooted to the damp pavement. “Move, Baque, before I change my mind.”
Miss Manning released his arm. Her voice was a choking whisper. “Go!”
“Baque!” Denton snarled.
“Go, quickly!” she whispered again. Baque took two hesitant steps.
“Run!” Denton shouted.
Baque ran. Behind him there was the evil crack of a gun, a scream, and silence. Baque faltered, saw Denton looking after him, and ran on.
“So I'M A coward,” Baque said.
“No, Baque.” Lankey shook his head slowly. “You're a brave man, or you wouldn't have got into this. Trying something there would have been foolishness, not bravery. It's my fault, for thinking he'd move first against the restaurant. I owe Denton something for this, and I'm a man who pays his debts.”
A troubled frown creased Lankey's ugly face. He looked perplexedly at Baque. “She was a brave and beautiful woman, Baque,” he said, absently caressing his flat nose. “But I wonder why Denton let you go.”
The air of tragedy that hung heavily over Lankey's that night did not affect its customers. They gave Baque a thunderous ovation as he moved toward the multichord. As he paused for a halfhearted acknowledgement, three policemen closed in on him.
“Erlin Baque?”
“That's right.”
“You're under arrest.”
Baque faced them grimly. “What's the charge?” he asked.
“Murder.”
The murder of Marigold Manning.
Lankey pressed his mournful face against the bars and talked unhurriedly. “They have some witnesses,” he said. “Honest witnesses, who saw you run out of that alley. They have several dishonest witnesses who claim they saw you fire the shot. One of them is your friend Hulsey, who just happened to be taking an early-morning stroll along that alley—or so he'll testify. Denton would probably spend a million to convict you, but he won't have to. He won't even have to bribe the jury. The case against you is that good.”
“What about the gun?” Baque asked.
“They'll have a witness who'll claim he sold it to you.”
Baque nodded. Things were out of his hands, now. He'd worked for a cause that no one understood—perhaps he hadn't understood himself what he was trying to do. And he'd lost.
“What happens next?” he asked.
Lankey shook his head sadly. “I'm not one to hold back bad news. It means life. They're going to send you to the Ganymede rock pits for life.”
“I see,” Baque said. He added anxiously, “You're going to carry on?”
“Just what were you trying to do, Baque? You weren't only working for Lankey's. I couldn't figure it out, but I went along with you because I like you. And I like your music. What was it?”