This stopped the counting all right, and drained him white at the same instant. I ought to warn him about the old ticker, that’s the way he would pop off if he didn’t watch out.

“What do you mean, stolen?” he choked after a bit.

“Well they were, you know. All of the money I paid you with was stolen.” His face went even whiter and I was sure he would never reach fifty, not with circulation like that. “You shouldn’t let it worry you. The other stuff was all in old bills. I’ve passed a lot of it without any trouble.”

“But… why”“ hefinally squeezed out.

“Sensible question, doctor.I’ve sent the same amount—in un-tampered bills, of course—to your old friend Zina. I felt you owed her that much at least, after all she has done for you. Fair is fair you know.”

He glared at me while I tossed all the machines, surgical supplies and such off the cliff. I was careful not to have my back to him when he was too close; other than this all the precautions had already been taken. When I glanced up by chance and saw that a covert smile had replaced the earlier expression, I knew it was time to reveal the rest of my arrangements.

“An air cab will be here in a few minutes; we’ll leave together. I regret to inform you that there won’t be enough time after we arrive in Freiburbad for you to seek out Zina and thrash her as planned, and get the money back.” His guilty start proved that he was really an amateur at this sort of thing. I continued, hoping he would be grateful for this complete revelation of how to do things in an efficient criminal manner. “I’ve timed everything rather carefully from here on in. Today is a bit unusual in that there are two starships leaving the port within minutes of each other. I’ve booked a ticket on one for myself—here is your ticket on the other. I’ve paid in advance for it, though I don’t expect you to thank me.” He took the ticket with all the spirited interest of an old maid picking up a dead snake. “The need for speed—if you will pardon the rhyme—is urgent. A few minutes after your ship leaves an envelope will be delivered to the police describing your part in this operation.”

Dear Doctor Vulff digested all this as we waited for the copter to arrive, and from his sickening expression I saw he could find no flaws in the arrangements. During the entire flight he huddled away from me in his chair and never said a word. Without a bon voyage or even a curse he made for his ship upon our arrival and I watched him board it. I of course merely went in the direction of mine and turned off before entering it. I had as much intention of leaving Freibur as I had of informing the police that an illegal operation had taken place. The last thing I wanted was attention. Both little lies had merely been devices to make sure that the alcoholic doctor went away and stayed away before he began his solitary journey to cirrhosis. There was no reason for me to leave, in fact every reason for me to stay.

Angelina was still on this planet, and I wanted no interference while I tracked her down.

Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to be so positive, yet I felt I knew Angelina very well by this time. Our crooked little minds rotated in many of the same cycles of dishonesty. Up to a certain point I felt I could predict her reactions with firm logic. Firstly—she would be very happy about my bloody destruction. She got the same big bang out of corpses that most girls get from new clothes. Thinking me dead would make following her that much easier. I knew she would take normal precautions against the police and other agents of the Corps. But they wouldn’t know she was on Freibur—there was nothing to connect my death with her presence. Therefore she didn’t have to run again, but could stay on this planet under a new cover and changed personality. That she would want to stay here I had very little doubt. Freibur was a planet that seemed designed for illegal operation. In my years of knocking around the known universe I had never before come up against a piece of fruit so ripe for plucking.A heady mixture of the old and the new.In the old, caste-ridden, feudalistic Freibur a stranger would have been instantly recognized and watched. On the modern League planets computers, mechanization, robots and an ever-vigilant police force left very little room for illegal operations. It was only when these two different cultures are mixed and merged that imaginative operations became really possible.

This planet was peaceful enough; you had to give the League societiesexpertscredit for that much. Before they brought in the first antibiotic pill or punch-card computer, they saw to it that law and order were firmly instituted. Nevertheless the opportunities were still there if you knew where to look. Angelina knew where to look and so did I.

Except—after weeks of futile investigation—I finally faced the brutal fact that we were both looking for different things. I can’t deny the time was spent pleasantly since I uncovered countless opportunities for fine jobs and lucrative capers. If it hadn’t been for the pressure of finding Angelina I do believe I could have had the time of my life in this crook’s paradise. This pleasure was denied me because the pressure to catch up with Angelina nagged at me constantly like an aching tooth.

Finding intuition wanting I tried mechanical means. Hiring the best computer available, I fed entire libraries into its memory circuits and set it countless problems. In the course of this kilowatt consuming business I became an expert on the economy of Freibur, but in the end was no closer to finding Angelina than I had been when I started. She had a driving urge for power and control, but I had no idea in what way it would find its outlet. There were many economic solutions I turned up for grabbing the reins of Freibur society, but investigation showed that she was involved in none of these. The King—Villelm IX—seemed the obvious pressure point for actual physical control of the planet. A complete investigation of Vill, his family and close royal relatives, turned up some juicy scandal but no Angelina. I was stopped dead.

While drowning my sorrows in a bottle of distilled spirits the solution to this dilemma finally struck me. Admittedly I was sodden with drink at the time, yet the paralysis of my neural axons was undoubtedly the source of the idea. Any man that says he thinks better drunk than sober is a fool. But this was a different case altogether. I was feeling, not thinking, and my anger at her escape cracked the lid off my more civilized impulses. I choked a pillow to death imagining it was her neck and finally shouted, “Crazy, crazy, that’s her trouble, all the way around the bend and dotty as polka-dots!” When I fell onto the bed everything swooped around and around in sickening circles and I mumbled, “Just plain crazy. I would have to be crazy myself to figure out which way she will jump next.” With this my eyes closed and I fell asleep.While the words swam down through the alcohol-saturated layers until they reached a deeper level where a spark of rationality still dwelled.

When they hit bottom I was wide-awake and sitting up in bed, struck dumb by the ghastly truth. I would require all the conviction I had—and a little more—to do it.

I would have to follow her down the path of insanity if I wanted to find her.