is correct."

"Like hell you do. You think I'm stupid? I never even seen you before."
Joe Prantera came abruptly to his feet. "I'm gettin' outta here."

For the second time, Reston-Farrell said, "Where would you go, Mr.
Prantera?"

Joe glared at him. Then sat down again, as abruptly as he'd arisen.

* * * * *

"Let's start all over again. I got this straight, you brought me, some
screwy way, all the way ... here. O.K., I'll buy that. I seen what it
looks like out that window--" The real comprehension was seeping through
to him even as he talked. "Everybody I know, Jessie, Tony, the Kid, Big
Louis, everybody, they're dead. Even Big Louis."

"Yes," Brett-James said, his voice soft. "They are all dead, Mr.
Prantera. Their children are all dead, and their grandchildren."

The two men of the future said nothing more for long minutes while Joe
Prantera's mind whirled its confusion.

Finally he said, "What's this bit about you wanting me to give it to
some guy."

"That is why we brought you here, Mr. Prantera. You were ... you are, a
professional assassin."

"Hey, wait a minute, now."

Reston-Farrell went on, ignoring the interruption. "There is small point
in denying your calling. Pray remember that at the point when we ...
_transported_ you, you were about to dispose of a contemporary named
Alphonso Annunziata-Rossi. A citizen, I might say, whose demise would
probably have caused small dismay to society."

They had him pegged all right. Joe said, "But why me? Why don't you get
some heavy from now? Somebody knows the ropes these days."

Brett-James said, "Mr. Prantera, there are no professional assassins in
this age, nor have there been for over a century and a half."

"Well, then do it yourself." Joe Prantera's irritation over this whole
complicated mess was growing. And already he was beginning to long for
the things he knew--for Jessie and Tony and the others, for his favorite
bar, for the lasagne down at Papa Giovanni's. Right now he could have
welcomed a calling down at the hands of Big Louis.

Reston-Farrell had come to his feet and walked to one of the large
room's windows. He looked out, as though unseeing. Then, his back
turned, he said, "We have tried, but it is simply not in us, Mr.
Prantera."

"You mean you're yella?"

"No, if by that you mean afraid. It is simply not within us to take the
life of a fellow creature--not to speak of a fellow man."

Joe snapped: