ube, which whisked him up to his room on the
eighty-first floor. He inserted his key in the lock and pressed the
button on the tip. The electronic lock opened, and the door slid into
the wall. Before entering, Drake took a look at the detector on his
wrist. There was no sign of anything having entered the room since he
had left it. Only then did he go inside.

With one of the most powerful financiers on Thizar out after his blood,
there was no way of knowing what might happen, and therefore no reason
to take chances.

There were some worlds where Anson Drake would no more have stayed in a
public hotel than he would have jumped into an atomic furnace,
especially if his enemy was a man as influential as Belgezad. But Thizar
was a civilized and reasonably well policed planet; the police were
honest and the courts were just. Even Belgezad couldn't do anything
openly.

Drake locked his door, sang to himself in a pleasant baritone while he
bathed, put on his pajamas, and lay down on his bed to read the paper.

* * * * *

It was mostly full of Coronation news. Noble So-and-So would wear
such-and-such, the Archbishop would do thus-and-so. There was another
item about Belgezad; his daughter was ill and would be unable to attend.
_Bloody shame_, thought Drake. _Too bad Belgezad isn't sick--or dying._

There was further mention of the Necklace of Algol; it was second only
to the Crown Jewels of the Shan himself. The precautions being taken
were fantastic; at a quick guess, about half the crowd would be
policemen.

The door announcer chimed. Drake sat up and punched the door TV. The
screen showed the face of a girl standing at his door. Drake smiled in
appreciation. She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a smooth, tanned
complexion. It was a beautiful face, and it showed promise of having a
body to match.

"Who, may I ask, is calling on a gentleman at this ungodly hour, and
thus compromising her reputation and fair name?"

The girl smiled, showing even, white teeth, and her eyes sparkled,
showing flickers of little golden flames against the brown. "I see I've
found the right room," she said. "That voice couldn't belong to anyone
but Anson Drake." Then she lowered her voice and said softly: "Let me
in. I'm Norma Knight."

Drake felt a tingle of psychic electricity flow over his skin; there was
a promise of danger and excitement in the air. Norma Knight was known
throughout this whole sec