"You didn't have to design a defense for the house. We did. The architect's records are in the computer, ready to be called up at any time. But the only ones likely to do that are those charged with your personal safety."

"Where does this come out?" Hanse asked quietly.

Ardan turned to follow the cranny out of the dimly lit portion into blackness. "In the wall above the kitchen wing. We'll have to wait for darkness before we try scaling the wall to the roof."

Hanse's eyes lit up. On the roof was, of course, his personal air car. With it, they could be away before the imposter and his crew could finish searching this tremendous and complex structure.

They crept like mice through winding, impossibly narrow spaces. Ardan's impressive uniform acquired a coating of dust and cobweb that added nothing to its appearance. Hanse, attired in plain clothing for work in his study, fared a bit better. Brown woven stuff showed the deposits of debris far less than did the buff and gold, slashed with scarlet, that Ardan wore.

From time to time, Ardan paused. Lateral spaces crossed their path, even narrower than the one they followed. More than once, one of those ran away at an oblique angle, and Ardan had to recall to mind the plans he had committed to memory years before.

"What are those?" asked Hanse at last, indicating one of the dark tunnels.

"They go between the walls. Keeps the walls from sweating and rotting the paneling and tapestries on the inside. Stone is terrifically sweaty stuff, particularly in such a humid climate," Ardan whispered.

Hanse seemed unsettled by this warren of passages between the walls of his summer home. "Why, anyone who knows the plan could slip into the place at will," he murmured.

Ardan glanced back over his shoulder. Hanse's bulk was a deeper black against the darkness.

"They could...but I know where the traps are that keep them from succeeding. We've passed three, so far. Another is just ahead. Want me to point it out?"

"It wouldn't do any good. How could I see it?"

Ardan chuckled quietly. A few more paces and he paused to take Hanse's hand. "Feel, as I hold back the trigger," he said.

Their hands moved together to feel along the wall to their right A slender rod extended out into the narrow passage. Even a man with some sort of handlight would not be likely to see it, for it was at shoulder height

"It's painted black," murmured Ardan. "If you went staggering along here without knowing it was there and then brushed against it, a metal panel would slide into place before and behind you. You'd be caught here, while an alarm went off in the guardpost. You'd be neatly trapped. Here, let me move it aside."

He caught the rod in his hand and gave it a twist, at the same time lifting it straight up. After Hanse squeezed past him, Ardan let the rod down gently and twisted it back into its original position.

"Why didn't I have to squeeze past you before?" asked the Prince.

"Oh, the others are all different. You have to know where each one is and also WHAT it is. Else you're in bad trouble. The next one is a dilly...and I'm not quite certain where it is, either."

"Oh, wonderful," grunted the ruler of the Federated Suns.

29

No one had ever accused Hanse Davion of being tight-fisted. Sep blessed that fact as she counted out the store of C-Bills he had provided for their rendezvous with Ardan. She had spent relatively few, leaving plenty for bribes and other emergencies.

Jarlik was the one who found them transportation with a pilot named Dahl, skipper of an InvaderClass JumpShip. The two shared a few mugs of ale in the local bar, where Jarlik learned that Dahl had a grudge against Sallek Atrion, the garrison commander. The man would be happy to secretly pilot them and their DropShip to Dragon's Field if it might eventually mean trouble for Atrion.

Once aboard Dahl's Invader,with their DropShip safely attached, Sep said, "When we hit Dragon's Field, we'll get our bearings first at the deep-space station. There's bound to be another 'cooperative and discreet' pilot looking to make a few extra C-Bills."

Dahl said, "Why don't you let me check things out for you? As a pilot, I'd never be suspect And once you're gone to worlds distant, I'll just be sitting here nice and innocentlike, recharging my ship."

Dragon's Field was a snap. Dahl found some friendly pretext for inviting another pilot aboard the DropShip, where Sep, Jarlik, and Ref were waiting.

"These folks need to use your ship," said Dahl reasonably. "They'll pay you well. And if anybody asks, just tell them you were kidnapped. How about it?"

Dahl had chosen well. Within fifteen minutes of docking their DropShip to the new pilot's JumpShip, they were on their way. No hue and cry was raised, nor would any be until someone wanted to board the charged ship that had vanished so mysteriously.

The jump from Hamlin was a bit more difficult. Their last pilot had been willing to be "kidnapped', but not to compound a felony by helping them hijack another ship. Again, it was Jarlik who did reconnaissance in port, where he strolled about, observing the possibilities. When he learned of a JumpShip that was currently idle, he told Sep and Ref, "I'll persuade the pilot to transport me to some phony destinadon, while you and the crew hide snug in the DropShip. Once we're aboard, well introduce ourselves and our real desdnadon to the captain."

As the new pilot was making ready for jump, Jarlik approached, his hand laser drawn. "What we really need is a lift to Ral," he said, his tone as mild as a rumble can be. The pilot came up swinging, but one shove of Jarlik's big hand convinced him that the bigger man outdid him, armed or otherwise.

They popped into being near the Ral system, where four JumpShips were charging not far beyond their position.

Jarlik patted his captive on the shoulder. "Nice work. Here's a bit to make it worth your while, and also enough to pay for the extra charge. You'll have to report this, but you don't have any idea who has taken you for a ride, do you?"

The pilot shook his head. He didn't, and that was the truth. He barely understood what had happened, as such a hijacking had never been tried before.

The three companions then selected one of the Jump-Ships waiting nearby, and had their current pilot signal that he wanted to board to get some assistance with a minor mechanical problem. Then Ref, Sep, and Jarlik got into their DropShip, and had their crew pilot them over to the new ship. In less than half an hour, they had jumped again, with another JumpShip pilot wondering if it were all a bad dream.

The last jump, from Vincent to Argyle, was accomplished in much the same fashion. "You won't know where you've been," Jarlik told the pilot, handing him a wad of C-Bills, "and you won't know who took you there, now will you?"

The pilot shook his head. "But I'd like to know how you made out when this is all over," he said. "Here's my call number. Get a message to me when you can."

Jarlik nodded. "Will do...if we live."

They landed their DropShip in a meadow outside the city of Stirling, which housed Hanse Davion's Summer Palace. Not wanting to be seen in port, they had chosen a spot that seemed safe for a private landing.

This early in the morning, mist was rising from the streams that made a webwork of waterways through the countryside. The 'Mechs stalked from the DropShip, and stood like prehistoric monsters in a dawn-world. The Drop-Ship crew, meanwhile, had orders to keep quiet and stay undercover.