She was looking at her bonds.

Then she did something with her wrists. A turning twist.

Her hands were free!

She grabbed at her ankles, and faster than I could follow she had her feet untied!

Belatedly I reached for the clamp which would pin her to the bed. I closed it. I stared back into the room.

The clamps came down but they closed on a bed with nobody in it!

She was standing, dishevelled, in the middle of the floor.

She saw my face at the port.

Her mouth framed, "You!" She pointed. Straight at me!

I reeled back. No telling what that finger could do to my wits.

Far down the corridor, I looked back at the door.

Oh, she was dangerous! Part of her theater training must have been as an escapist. She had made nothing of those bonds.

I would have to handle that port. Somebody else might look in. Nobody knew the combination to that cell but me. Nobody had a key to the inner door but me. Still, I must not take any chances.

I went into the hangar and found a square of cloth and some tape.

I sneaked back up the passageway, staying very low so she would not see me.

All in one motion, I taped the cloth over the port.

I withdrew to a safe distance. The cell was soundproof and escape-proof. I would forbid anyone to go near her or to even take her meals. Ha! Maybe she would starve to death.

Then I recalled that I had thrown a whole case of emergency space rations in there for Crobe, enough for a year or two.

The air port.

My wits cleared. When the time came to kill her, it was all right. My cunning design had taken care of that. Nobody could get out that air shaft. But poison-gas capsules could be dropped down it from outside the mountain.

I felt easier.

When I had killed Heller and no longer needed her for a bargaining pawn, a capsule or two could be dropped down and that would be the final breath of the Countess Krak.

Only then did I permit myself to feel I had done well.

The way was wide open now.

All I had to do was kill Heller.

And all my problems would be solved.

I went to sleep congratulating myself on how clever I had been.

I dreamed I was at a banquet, attended by a thousand Lords. It was the banquet of my inauguration as the Chief of the Apparatus, loyal servant of the redoubtable Lombar Hisst who now controlled all Voltar.

The following morning I woke up and had a bright idea. I didn't have to go near the cell to keep an eye on the Countess Krak. All I had to do was get Raht to ship me the activator-receiver for her bugs.

No sooner thought of than done. I picked up the two-way-response radio off the bedside table and called Raht.

"For Hells' sakes, Officer Gris," he said, "don't you ever think of anybody but yourself? It's one o'clock in the morning here."

"Time means nothing when duty calls," I said. "Get down to the Empire State Building and ship me the woman's activator-receiver."

"Why? Isn't she in New York?"

"We won't be needing them anymore," I said. "So step lively and get them out by International Spurt Express to me. I don't want them lying around. Possible Code break."

He groaned. He clicked off.

I spent a happy day. I idled around. I checked up on Black Jowl. He was just glooming away in his cell. He didn't see me. I didn't go near Krak. It was enough to know she was in there. I issued strict instructions: Nobody was to lift that cloth.

What I was looking forward to was watching Heller's arrival back in New York. His viewer was still blank. But when he arrived and got Krak's note, he might make calls about the plane and he would find it had crashed. It would crush him.

I would order Raht to kill him. Crushed like that, Heller would be an easy target.

With him dead, I could wipe out Chrysler, Ochokeechokee and the Empire State Building. Rockecenter would be jubilant. Then I could release Black Jowl and tell him to get lost. I would then kill the Countess Krak.

I would put Faht Bey in his place with the information that I would shortly be his supreme chief. I would threaten his life if he didn't keep the opium and heroin and amphetamines coming. And then I would go home. How proud Lombar would be of me!

Heller's viewer stayed blank.

I had dinner.

The viewer was still blank. Heller was overdue in New York. Maybe that fool Raht had made a mistake and shipped me the wrong unit.

I called him on the radio. "My viewer is blank!" I said angrily. "Can't you ever do anything right? You shipped me the wrong unit!"

"I shipped you the one with K on it. It went out on International Spurt at 3:00 A. M. You should have it tomorrow. His is still on the antenna."

"Then you turned his 831 Relayer off. My unit here is as blank as a piece of clear glass!"

"If his relayer is off, you can't get a picture?"

"That's right. So it's off. Now get down there and check it!"

I tossed the radio aside. Oh, when I was Apparatus Chief, I'd get rid of an awful lot of riffraff!

An hour later he called back. "The 831 Relayer is on. If he's in New York you ought to be getting a picture."

My screen was blank. A riffle of unease went through me. Where was Heller?

Then I remembered something. "You told me you had him bugged."

"I do. But it's just a locational bug, not an audio and visio bug."

"Well, (bleep) you to Hells, if you've got a bug on him, why are you denying me the information about where he is?"

"My bug receiver must be busted."

I groaned. Oh, Gods, why was I served by such riffraff? "How do you know it's busted, you idiot?" I said.

"Have you tried to repair it by fiddling with it and banging it? Turning its switches on and off?" Cripes, I had to think of everything!

"I know it must be busted because when I looked at it a few minutes ago it said he was over the North Pole. Before that it said he was in Chicago."

"That's impossible!" I snapped. "Now listen carefully and do what you're told for once. Go to his condo or down to his offices at the Empire State and hobnob with or bribe some of his staff and find out where Heller is! My life may depend on it. Get going!"

I found, when he clicked off, that I had begun to sweat. It would be like Heller to take it into his head to simply come kill me to pass the time.

Two awful hours went by. Then suddenly the radio went live.

"Hey," said Raht, "all Hells have erupted around his office. I didn't even have to bribe anybody. The staff is standing around in the halls crying and wringing their hands. The airline called the condo and the butler, Bal­mor, phoned Epstein. You told me you wouldn't hurt the woman. She's dead!"

I was thinking coolly. "How?" I said.

"Flight 931 out of Rome for Istanbul crashed with everybody lost. It's in the papers. What did you do?"

"How could a plane crash possibly have anything to do with me? I don't build these flimsy primitive deathtraps they use. How would I know it would crash?"

"Are you sure you didn't blow it up or something?"

"What nonsense!" I said. "These jets fall out of the sky all over the place. It practically rains planes."

"Well, all right," he said.

"Now, listen. It's not our job to worry about what happened to one of their flying coffins. You've GOT to find the man. I have orders for you."

"What now?" he said.

"You are to kill him."

"WHAT? A Royal officer? You must be out of your mind! That carries a death penalty just to threaten it, much less do it!"

"You have no slightest choice," I said. "Kill him or I'll kill you, if I have to blow up all of New York City to do it!"

"Gods!" said Raht, impressed.

"You'll look silly praying to them with your head blown off," I said. "So find that man! Where is he on your location bug now?"