His voice was drowned out by the loud whistle from the TV as it turned itself on. The blackclad military announcer glared out of the screen just one more time.

“The spy who landed in Marhaveno has been identified. He attempted to disguise himself as a harmless draftee and was inducted into the army. Resolute police work has identified him by his clothing.”

Some police work. They just looked at their mail. I was beginning to think that sending my clothing from the reception center to the police station was not at all as funny as it had seemed at the time. There was a scratch of static and the announcer vanished from the screen to be replaced by another officer.

“Now hear this,” he shouted. “As of this moment this entire base is sealed to outgoing. I repeat, Mortstertoro is locked tight, gates sealed, aircraft departures canceled. The spy who landed in Marhaveno has been identified as a recruit who w~s shipped to this base. Here is his picture.” My heart skipped a beat or two, then settled down as the blurred photo of Jak, from my stolen ID, appeared on the screen. I was still one jump ahead of them. It would soon be discovered that Jak5138 was no longer on the base and the search would go elsewhere. I took my drink and went back to the table to stare into the wide and frightened eyes of Morton.

“You want a drink?” I asked before he could speak. He gurgled and pointed at the screen.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, and kicked him under the table. “Can’t be much of a spy if he lets himself get drafted. Some spy! I’ll bet you five he’s caught and dead before dark.” When he relaxed slightly I went on in a hoarse whisper. “It will take a long time to search this base…”

“No it won’t—because they know just where to look. They know who you are, Jak. They’ll go to Sergeant Klutz who will tell them he transferred you to Corporal Gow. Then they’ll find Gow and…”

“And the trail will run cold. It will take them days to search a camp this size. And .when they don’t find the spy the first time they’ll just do it again. They are not bright enough to consider having the computer check the records for the spy.”

“Attention!” the announcer on the screen called out, waving a sheet of paper. “I have just been given this new information. The spy—and an accomplice—have managed to have themselves transferred from this base by illegal use of the base computer. All computer personnel are now under arrest and will probably be shot.” I turned away, not able to look Morton in the eye.

“Now that they know where to look,” Morton asked hollowly, “how long will it take them to discover that we were never on that shipment? And then find out that a corporal and a sergeant who really were on that shipment were not on that shipment and are still here on the base?”

“How long?” I laughed, but there was a very hollow ring to it. “Could take days, weeks, no way to tell.”

“How long?” I sighed deeply. “They got some hotshot computer pro-

grams. Good security. I would say that we have maybe thirty minutes before they start looking for us.” His body shook as though he had received ten thousand volts and he started to jump to his feet. I reached out and held him down, then glanced at the bartender. He was looking at the TV.

“You’re right,” I said. “We get out of here, but slowly. On your feet. Follow me.”

As we started toward the door the bartender glanced in our direction.

“Where’s the transient bart-acks?” I said. “Out the back door, turn right. See you.”

“Yeah. See you.”

We strolled out the back door and turned left. It was getting dark which might help.

“You got a plan?” Morton said, eagerness in his voice. “You know a way to get us out of this.”

“Of course,” I said, clapping him on the back. “Every step planned. We go this way.”

I could hear the forced joviality in my voice; I hoped that he couldn’t. He had to think that I knew what I was doing or he might crack. It was a white lie for the sake of his morale.

But what about my morale? I was holding it down successfully for the moment, but I could feel an awareness of dark panic knocking and ready to come in. I kept it at bay. We walked on down the company street, the lights coming on, lost in the milling military mass. How long would this last? The question was the answer: not very. The panic pushed a little harder.

I have heard it said that when a man knows that he is to be hanged, it concentrates his mind wonderfully. I wasn’t going to be hanged, not for the present at least, but the foul breath of military prosecution on my neck was concentrating my mind almost as well. So much so that when an officer passed I turned to look at him. Turned and stopped until he vanished in the crowd. Morton was pulling feebly at my arm.

“What are you looking at? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong. Everything right. I know now exactly what we must do next.”

“What?”

“Just come with me. I know that it is back this way, I noticed it when we passed. ”

“What, what?”

“BOQ.” Before he could say What? What? What? I explained. “Bachelor Officers Quarters. Where the officers live when they are not getting drunk and making life a hell for the enlisted men. That is where we are going. There.” I pointed to the brightly lit building, guards at the front entrance, officers in their military finery pouring from it.

“That’s suicide!” Morion said. The edge of hysteria back in his voice.

“Easy does it,” I cozened. “We do not enter the building by this portal. Suicide as you say. But what has a front surely has a back. And from the exodus visible from that officerial snakepit it looks like everyone is on duty tonight. Everyone except us, that is.” I chortled darkly and he looked at me out of the corners of his eyes as if I had gone mad. Perhaps I had. We would soon find out.

There was a wall behind the BOQ which we followed. A sort of alley led next to it, badly lit and just what I wanted. There was a door here let into the wall with a light above it. As we strolled past I read the sign, OFFICERS ONLY, and bent over and tied my shoe: it needed only a single glance to identify the lock. Then stood and on. I stopped in the shadows between two lights and bent to my shoe again. Only this time I came up with the lockpick.

“All right, here we go. The lock is nothing, single tumbler, pick it as easy as I pick my teeth. We walk back now and if no one is in sight we walk through it. Got that?” The chatter of his teeth was the only response. I took his quivering arm and squeezed it. “It’s all right, Morton. You’ll see. Just do as I say and we’ll soon be safe. Nice and quiet—here we go.”

I tried not to catch any of Morton’s fears, but they were very contagious. We stopped under the light, I put the lockoick into the kevhole. Felt and twisted. It didn’t ooen.

“Someone’s coming,” Morton wailed.

“Piece of cake,” I muttered, perspiration running down my face. “Opened these with my eyes shut.”

“Getting closer!”

“Eyes shut!”

It wouldn’t open. I shut my eyes, closed out all sensations, felt for the tumblers. Clicked it open.

“Inside!” I said, pulling him after me, closing the gate behind us. We stood with our backs to it, shivering in the darkness as the footsteps came closer, came to the gate… L Passed it and went on.

“There, wasn’t that easy?” I said, ruining the effect as my voice cracked and squeaked. Not that Morton noticed; he was shivering so hard that I could hear his teeth clatter. “Look, nice garden. Pathways for strolling, love seats for loving, all the nice things to keep the officerial classes happy. And beyond the garden the dark windows of their quarters, dark because the occupants have all gone

. out. So now all that we have to do is find a window to open – . .” ’ “Jak—what are we doing here?”

“I thought that was obvious. The military powers are looking for one recruit now. When their computer coughs out the next bit of news they will be looking for a corporal and a sergeant.” I tried to ignore his moan. “So we get into this building and become officers. As simple as that. “ I caught him as he dropped and laid him gently on the grass. “That’s it. Have a little rest. I’ll be right back.” The third window I tried was unlocked. I opened it and looked in. A mussed bed, open closet, empty room. Perfect. I found my way back to Morton who was just sitting up. He recoiled as I appeared out of the darkness and my quick hand over his mouth muffled his scream. “Everything is fine. Almost finished.”