“See how the four legs are embedded in the rock? Solid and just about immovable. But as they rise up higher they thin down so that eventually the four legs form a single lattice that supports the cross bar and the cables.”

I leaned back, looking up, farther and farther, until I almost fell over backwards.

“That is one awfully high tower.”

“Nice, isn’t it? Almost as good as rock climbing. See you in a bit.”

The explosive was slung in the bag over his shoulder, and he was off before I could say another word. Warn him to be careful? Wish him luck?

He was a good and experienced climber. I would have stopped for breath by this time. He just went at it hand over hand at a steady pace. Reached the junction of the four legs. That should be it. But no, he went on until he appeared to be as high as the cables pendant from their immense insulators. Then he stopped. A dark smudge against the bright metal of the tower.

And seemed to remain there for an awfully long time.

I don’t know much clock time passed before he started back down. Subjective time seemed to last and last. And then I could see that he was moving back down, surely and steadily. He jumped the last few meters, smiling and wiping the grit from his hands.

“A piece of cake. Timed to blow in two hours.”

“We’ll have a front seat for the show.”

“We will indeed.”

He drove the rental runabout back to the heliport. Which had a neat little robobar that did a fine line in hooch. I washed away some of the fatigue with internal lubrication. Bolivar had a mineral water and looked at his watch. “After you finish knocking that one back, Dad, we are up and away.”

The sun was behind us we flew over the dark beaches. Everything on the ground had been washed clear by the night’s rain. Our copter passed low over the thick cables, turned in a lazy circle.

“Ferry is still tied up,” I said. “No one below-no traffic on the road either.”

“Just about time-” Bolivar said when the ball of flame flared out. Changed to dark billows of smoke.

For long moments nothing happened. The copter bumped a bit when the sound of the explosion reached us.

“Now,” Bolivar said.

And it was going. The top of the tower was bending, falling almost gracefully. Then the giant insulators began to turn and twist, the immense cables stirring and writhing. Falling.

I could see lightning spear out as the falling cables broke, twisting as though in pain. Twisted and fell, faster and faster, followed by the ruined tower. Splashing down into the sea in great furrows of waves that stretched across the width of the channel.

“That will give those criminals back on the island something to think about,” Bolivar said with great satisfaction. “Normally I wouldn’t enjoy doing something like this. But anyone who drafts holidaymakers into clearing up atomic debris deserves no less.”

I am pleased to say that I was in complete agreement.

Before we parted at the heliport we called James one last time. Still no news, still no luck in finding Kaia’s elusive living quarters. It had been easier to crack into the government records than it was now to get past the privacy barriers of that exclusive city. When Bolivar was gone I picked up my bag and trudged wearily back into Fetorrscoria. I was too tired to go very far. When I came to a liquor store, with a bench out in front of it for the alcoholics, I knew I had reached journey’s end. Popping a cold beer I settled back in the sun and called Chaise.

“Pretty good job if I say so myself.”

“Where are you?”

I told him and hung up. By the time I had finished the beer his car rolled up. The door opened and I climbed in. I threw the fake ID he had supplied me with onto the back seat. Took off my face and heard one last plaintive “chicken soup?” as I threw it back there as well.

“Plenty of people saw me in Swartzlegen. And I had to use the face and ID to rent a copter. Since the maglev train pretty obviously wasn’t running. Did you like the job I did?”

“I would be more pleased if you hadn’t seen fit to cut off all communication.”

“If you mean all the bugs you planted on me-of course I got rid of them. I do value my privacy.”

“You will be going to the depository tonight.”

“No thanks? No day off? No pat on the back?”

“Don’t be tiresome, diGriz. This will be your last assignment, as I promised. I should think that you would be very pleased that our relationship will soon be over.”

I would be pleased when it really was over. I did not trust him in the slightest. Once back at the warehouse he got right down to business.

“Igor. Bring the large box from the car and then go away.”

Igor scuffled back with it, dropped it onto the table and went out. Chaise took a photograph from the box and passed it over to me.

“This man is known as Iba Ibada, nicknamed Iba-illfavored for obvious reasons.”

Too true! A man of average, height and schlumpy build. He wouldn’t have looked that bad had it not been for the jagged scar that ran down from his forehead, across his nose-leaving a deep dent-and down his cheek. It had been coarsely stitched up, so roughly that the scars of the sutures still showed.

“Industrial accident,” Chaise said. “Machine caught him. He was sewn up by the first-aid assistant, who obviously had little experience. Then Iba was fired from the job for taking the rest of the day off from work. He was very grateful to me when I found him employment on the cleaning squad at the depository. In addition to his salary I pay him very well, to enable him to indulge in his repulsive vices. He is appreciative and does me favors. You will take his place tonight.”

“Won’t anyone notice?”

“No. I have planned this down to the last detail.”

And so he had. The artificial scar that he brought out was identical to the original. Waterproof as well, and could only be removed by a special solvent. Shaped wedges went inside my cheeks and puffed them out to match Iba’s photograph. His work clothes were baggy and ugly enough to cover any differences in build. The heavy boots suitably scuffed.

“How about ID?” I asked, scowling in disgust at my image in the mirror. Chaise passed over a small case. “A contact lens, right eye. Do not lose it. It is expensive and irreplaceable. It has his retinal patterns. And four sets of plastic gloves with his palm pattern on them. That should be enough, since you will only be in the repository twice. Once to see for yourself the layout and the alarms, particularly those on the bearer-bond vault, in order to plot out the theft. Then the theft on the next night. I have a specialized security-trapper kit that is also expensive and irreplaceable. Do you know how to operate it?”

I took it, opened it-and sneered. “I was making better kits than this before I learned to shave. And what makes you think that I will be able to do to the job on the second night?”

“You have to. There will not be a second chance. A ticket has been bought for Iba and he has been paid a large bonus. He will be going offplanet today. And don’t forget-remember the video you looked at-that you are what might be called a hostage to fortune.”

And I was, surely enough.

“Look at this,” Chaise said, breaking into my thoughts, passing over another memory card. I plugged it into the computer. “This is Iba on his nightly round. The route he takes, the cleaning he does. You will note that he is not a very fast worker. So you can do his job-and still have time to complete yours.”

“How do I get to work?”

“Igor will drive you there and will leave you close by. He will pick you up at the same spot when your shift is over. Do you have any questions before I go?”

“None that I can think of now.”

“There will be no opportunity later. I will not see you again until after you have returned here.”