"It's kind of late in the day, and you've done a lot of driving. Maybe you ought to lay over and start in the morning."

He looked at the sky.

"I could still get in a few good hours of legwork."

"... And then go to all the trouble of making camp, to spend an extra night on the trail. Is it going to make that much difference?"

"I don't know."

"... You1 could probably use a good meal too." "On that you're right," he said, shouldering the rifle and hefting the pack, to which he had added Flowers "We'll go see what's on the menu and find out what sort of accommodations they have. If neither one is very good I might as well be on the trail, though."

He moved off in the direction of the main building. The proprietor, an elderly man with a French accent, and his wife-young, heavy, native-sat in wicker chairs in the reception area, beneath a large fan. He smiled, put down a book and a drink, and rose as

Red entered.

"Hello. May I serve you?

"Hi. I'm Red. Dorakeen. I was wondering what may be available for dinner."

"Peter Laval. And this is Betty. A stew—native meats, carefuly seasoned. Beer made here, or wine brought in, to go with it. You may inspect the kitchen, sniff the pot, if you choose."

"Not necessary. I'm getting a whiff here. Smells good. What are the rooms like?" ' "Come take a look. Right around the corner."

Red followed him down a short hall and into a small, clean room.

"Not bad. I'll take it," he said, lowering his pack to the floor after removing and pocketing Flowers and placing the rifle on the bed. He tossed his jacket down beside it.

"... And I wouldn't mind some of that beer now."

"This way. I'll get you a key too, if you want one."

Red followed him back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

'Might as well. Many other guests?"

'No, just yourself today. Things are slow—as usual."

'That fancy car out there yours?"

'No, mine is in back, and much less pretentious."

"Whose is it, then?" Red asked as they approached

a desk where he signed a guest book and received a key.

"Ah! You are reading Baudelaire! One of my favorites. There was a man who saw through pretensions_ everything! 'Combla-t-il sur ta chair inerte et cornplaisante l'immensite' de son desir?'"

" '....e'ponds, cadavre impur!' " Red said, nodding, following the other into a small taproom, where a stein was drawn for him. "Whose car is it?"

Laval chuckled, leading him out onto the veranda and gesturing toward the mountains.

"A most unusual fellow," he said. "Hiked off in that direction last week. Big, skinny, with eyes like Rasputin... Hands such as Modigliani might have painted somewhere or other. And every stitch on him, down to his bootlaces, was green. Even had on a big emerald ring. Didn't say where he was going or why. Said his name was John, that's all."

Flowers emitted a small squeak. Red thumbed the piezoelectric acknowledgment point.

"... And to tell the truth, I was glad to see him go. He didn't do anything threatening or even uncivil. But he made me uncomfortable just being here."

Red sipped his beer.

"I've left my drink inside. Would you care to join us in the lobby? It's a little cooler there."

Red shook his head.

"I'm enjoying the view from here. Thanks anyway."

Laval shrugged and withdrew. Red raised Flowers.

"Yeah, I caught it," he muttered. "I suppose it could be the same guy. Indicating—"

"It's not that," said the tiny voice, "though it could be. But it is what caused me to set up surveillance. I decided to run periodic reconnaissance surveys through the truck's sensors via microwave. I've picked something up."

"What?"

"Electrical activity associated with something ap

proaching from the southwest. It's easy to spot against this quiet background. It's coming up pretty fast."

"How large an object is it?"

"I can't tell yet."

Red took another drink.

"Conclusions? Recommendations?"

"Go get your rifle and keep it with you. Maybe a grenade. I don't know what you've got on you. I've already broadcast a message to that doctor we met."

"Then you do think it's his man?"

"You have to admit it sounds that way. Let us not take chances."

"I'm not arguing."

Red set his stein on a ledge, turned toward his truck.

"Uh-oh, Flowers," he announced. "Something airborne from that direction, and it ain't no bird."

"I'm tracking. That's it. You might still be able to get the rifle, if you run."

"Oh, the hell with it," Red said, unwrapping a fresh cigar and lighting it. "It would just get in the way. You might get a chance to try that brand-new routine, though."

He retrieved his beer and seated himself on the edge of the veranda.

"I've had an acknowledgment from the physician. He is near, and he's on his way."

"Great."

He opened Flowers and read a few lines.

"I must say, you're taking it very philosophically."

"Well, isn't this the way to go—with a drink, a cigar and a good book?"

"The preparations-do not seem entirely adequate."

"Maybe this is my place... And I've already caught a glimpse of the opposition "

"And?.. ."

"Here they come now."

The robot soared above the parking lot, slowing. The man, clad all in yellow now, rode upon its back. It continued to slow, gradually assumed a vertical attitude, then descended gently to the ground, landing perhaps fifteen meters from the veranda.

Red sipped his beer and set it down. He rose to his feet, smiling, and took a step forward.

"Hi, Mondy," he said. "Who's your friend?"

"Red ..." Mondamay began.

"Silence!" said John, stepping down and stretching. His topaz rings flashed in the sunlight. "Remain in position! Battle systems active!"

He stepped forward and bowed from the waist.

"John will do. And you, I take it, are Red Dorakeen?"

'That is correct. Anything I can do for you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You can die. Mondamay—"

"A moment. May I inquire as to your purpose in this?"

John paused in mid-gesture, nodded sharply.

"Very well. I wish to assure you that there is absolutely nothing personal involved. I am simply carrying out a commission in order to earn a large sum of money, which I require to further various personal ambitions. A man named Chadwick hired me to do this. Ah! You nod. But then you had already guessed, hadn't you? Former friends can make the worst enemies. Pity. But there you are. I won't point any morals. It's a little late for them to be of much use to you."

"So you accepted the commission, determined my destination and located a complicated piece of equipment to do the work for you? ..."

"That pretty much summarizes things. Chadwick put my feet on the right track—"

"I wonder whether your reliance on an agent is a mark of fear?"

"Fear? No more than Chadwick's hiring me is an indication of fear on his part. He is a very busy man.

He sought to employ efficiency, as do I . Do you think I fear to fight you, or any man?"

Red smiled.

"No," John said, noting the smile. "You shan't goad me into giving you an unearned chance at life. Your opinion of me means nothing when I know better."

Red puffed on his cigar.

"Interesting," he said. "Then I suppose it is merely of academic interest to you that the man who told me about you is even now approaching?"

"Man? What man?"

Red glanced at the roadway.

"A big golden-eyed guy with one hell of a suntan," he said. "I met him at a rest stop back on the Road. Driving a hot little 1920s roadster. Had on a torn shirt. Said he was going to do a lobotomy on you with an icepick."

"I don't believe you!"

Red shrugged.

"Why don't you ask him yourself? I believe that's the roadster approaching now."