"No, sir. I went by there just two days ago before I came here. Everything was fine with the office. Of course, things are pretty upset in New York, just as they are here. You know, don't you, that Turkey and Sweden have both moved into the former territory of Russia and are getting ready to fight a war as to which one will annex the place. In the U.S., there's general mobilization. I don't know if it's connected with the Russian thing. When I left John F. Kennedy Airport, soldiers were all over the place. Flights were uncertain, too. Does this help?"

"No," said Heller. "That doesn't seem to connect with Izzy. He's 4F, allergies and things. You sure he was all right?"

"Saw him myself. He was running down a hall with a handful of papers, looking cheerful and busy."

"Blast!" said Heller. "What could have happened to him in just the last two days? All his phones are out of service." "You want me to go back, sir?" | Heller shook his head. "What Earth day is this?" "It just was Wednesday, sir."

"All his options will be up next Monday. If he's not active on them, he'll be in tons of trouble."

Heller went back to the tug and climbed aboard. He got very busy in his aft quarters. The Countess Krak came in just as he finished changing into a Western summer lounge suit.

"Listen," said Heller. "I want you to keep an eye on the Emperor and make sure that that goes along as well as it can. And keep this base in line."

"Where are you headed for?" she said in alarm.

"I'm going to have Ahmed and Ters drive me to Istanbul. I'm catching a dawn plane for New York."

"Oh, no! Is Izzy in trouble?"

"I can't be sure. I promise not to run off with any Miss Americas. I'll be back in a few days. You can reach me or leave word for me at the condo."

He was piling things into his case. Then he went to a cabinet and got out a spacetrooper collapsible sled and some bombs.

"Good Heavens!" said the Countess Krak. "You look like this is war!"

"There seems to be a lot of that hanging around. But I'm just being careful."

"Bombs? Careful?"

Heller laughed and gave her a kiss. He went to the airlock. There was suddenly an awful yowling. Mister Calico was standing on the top of the ladder and he wouldn't let Heller descend.

"He sees the clothes and bag," said the Countess Krak. "He thinks you're going somewhere and deserting him."

Heller looked at the cat.

The cat yowled forlornly.

Heller laughed, got a shoulder satchel, threw some of Mister Calico's kit in and then lifted up the cat and dropped him in it.

Heller slung the strap over his shoulder and Mister Calico put his paws on the edge and looked out, purring.

The Countess and Heller said good-bye. Heller slid down the ladder. He was on his way to more war than he had imagined!

Mister Calico thoroughly enjoyed his ride to New York. Jet was travelling on non-U.S. airlines that were not too insistent on putting pets in special boxes—after Jet talked to them—and the flight attendants let him have a spare seat beside Heller, a window seat from which one could admire the various seas and mountains. He also enjoyed the food, both in flight and in a posh restaurant during their long layover in Brussels. He also enjoyed his twin bed in the deluxe hotel.

It was from Belgium that Heller tried again to phone Izzy. Service suspended, he was told. He switched the call to the condo. Balmor answered.

"Do you know where Izzy is?" Heller asked.

"Why, no, sir, Mr. Jet, but I've been wondering myself. He was up here Sunday and he was supposed to drop by yesterday to inspect some new potted trees the gardeners put in. But he didn't show. Is anything wrong?"

"I hope not," said Heller. "It would be a real mess if he had disappeared. Meet me at JFK with the Silver Spirit. I'll arrive at 2:00 P.M., your time, Friday afternoon." And he gave him the flight number.

"Oh, I am so pleased you're coming home. Is the madame with you, sir?"

"Not this trip," said Heller. "But she is fine and sends her best."

"She's such a charming girl, a real American lady. 2:00 P.M. it is, sir, at JFK."

It was in flight across the Atlantic that Heller found that the cat wouldn't be admitted unless he were held in quarantine for several months.

"It's their resistance to anybody landing," he told the cat. "They fight it with tooth and claw. But we will put our heads together."

When they debarked, Heller had the cat in the satchel, zipper dosed except for a small opening so it could get some air.

The corpse at the immigration desk took Heller's passport, looked up in his secret book to see if Jerome Terrance Wister was wanted anywhere, pushed buttons with his knees, read secret screens and, giving no sign of anything, let Heller through.

The U.S. Customs hand-baggage counter was just beyond. There was a crowd jam. Some old lady had been found to be carrying some smelling salts and they were sure it was cocaine. They had her spread-eagled against a wall and were frisking her: a typical American welcome-home for Americans.

Heller, waiting in the line, bent over to tie his shoe—quite a feat since it had no laces. With the satchel scraping the floor and hidden from view by other legs, the cat stepped out.

Heller gave a whispered command, stood up and went through the handbag customs line. "Cat food?" said the inspector. "What the hell is this? You importing American cat food? Barney, open this can and see if it's full of hash."

The inspector called Barney did and came back eating it. "No drugs. Only preservatives. But two are listed as cancer-causing by the PDA. We'll have to confiscate the lot."

Heller handed over the cat food. He walked ahead. The cat followed him quietly below the counter level. He went into the baggage-retrieval area, got his grip onto the counter, got it chalked, picked it up and walked out into the lobby. The cat was sitting on a waiting-room seat, washing his face.

"You already had a criminal record as long as your tail," said Heller. "You are now an illegal alien. One day you are going to have to reform." He put the cat back in the satchel.

The place was absolutely swarming with military personnel.

Balmor was there and took his grip. Heller made him wait while he tried another call to the Empire State Building. Service still suspended.

They went out to the parking lot where sat the Rolls. The chauffeur saluted.

"I'll go to the condo and wash up and change," said Heller. "And then you can take me downtown to the office. I think I have a lot of urgent business, the way things look."

"I hope there isn't more trouble," said Balmor from the front seat as they rode. "We were so upset about the lady. The whole staff was. And Mr. Epstein wept for days. I'm sorry Miss Joy didn't come with you. Ever since your call, we've been busy decorating the place. You'll really be surprised."

"Did Mr. Epstein keep the whole staff on?" said Heller.

"Oh, yes, sir. He wouldn't think of downgrading your home. I hope you'll be pleased with what you find, sir."

They rode for about an hour through highways jammed with military convoys and all the signs of national emergency. They eventually turned off Central Park West and drove into the underground garage.

Heller, anxious about Izzy, was first in and first out of the elevator to the penthouse. He walked across the small private lobby and opened the front door.

He walked partway across the room.

A voice said, "Stand right where you are!"

Heller whirled, eyes riveted on a leveled .45 Colt automatic!

The man who held it said, "You are under arrest!"

Two men came in from side doors. They had carbines pointed straight at Heller.

Jet sized them up. The first man was an army captain. The other two were white-helmeted military police.