planned my circuit so that I'd be near the hotel when things
came to the proper boil, so I did a lot of diving, breaking all kinds
of traffic regulations in the process.

I went to my room, grabbed the attache case, checked it over
quickly--never trust another man to check your vac suit for
you--and headed for the surface.

Nobody paid any attention to me when I walked out of the air lock onto
the spacefield. There were plenty of people moving in and out, going
to and from their ships and boats. It wasn't until I reached the edge
of the field that I realized that I had over-played my hand with
Colonel Brock. It was only by the narrowest hair, but that had been
enough to foul up my plans. There were guards surrounding the
perimeter with radar search beams.

As I approached, one of the guards walked toward me and made a series
of gestures with his left hand--two fingers up, fist, two fingers up,
fist, three fingers up. I set my suit phone for 223; the guy's right
hand was on the butt of his stun gun.

"Sorry, sir," came his voice. "We can't allow anyone to cross the
field perimeter. Emergency."

"My name's Oak," I said tiredly. "Daniel Oak. What is going on here?"

He came closer and peered at me. Then: "Oh, yes, sir; I recognize you.
We're ... uh--" He waved an arm around. "Uh ... looking for Miss
Ravenhurst." His voice lowered conspiratorially. I could tell that he
was used to handling the Ravenhurst girl with silence and suede
gloves.

"Up _there_?" I asked.

"Well, Colonel Brock is a little worried. He says that Miss Ravenhurst
is being sent to a school on Luna and doesn't want to go. He got to
thinking about it, and he's afraid that she might try to leave
Ceres--sneak off you know."

I knew.

"We've got a guard posted at the airlocks leading to the field, but
Colonel Brock is afraid she might come up somewhere else and jump
overland."

"I see," I said. I hadn't realized that Brock was that close to panic.
What was eating him?

There must be something, but I couldn't figure it. Even the
Intelligence Corps of the Political Survey Division can't get complete
information every time.

After all, if he didn't want the girl to steal a flitterboat and go
scooting off into the diamond-studded velvet, all he'd have to do
would be to guard the flitterboats. I turned slowly and looked around.
It seemed as though he'd done that, too.

And then my estimation of Brock suddenly leaped up--way up. Just a
guard a