xpertly painless. But one had _been_ there.
By its eighth year, the Star was dated. Now, in its twelfth, it lived
soberly off the liner and freighter trade, four fifths of the guest
suites shut down, the remainder irregularly occupied between ship
departures.

And in another seven hours, if the plans of certain men went through,
the Seventh Star Hotel would abruptly wink out of existence.

* * * * *

Some fifty or sixty early diners were scattered about the tables on
the garden terraces of Phalagon House, the Seventh Star Hotel's most
exclusive eatery. One of them had just finished his meal, sat smoking
and regarding a spiraling flow of exquisitely indicated female figures
across the garden's skyscape with an air of friendly approval. He was
a large and muscular young man, deeply tanned, with shoulders of
impressive thickness, an aquiline nose, and dark, reflective eyes.

After a minute or two, he yawned comfortably, put out the cigarette,
and pushed his chair back from the table. As he came to his feet,
there was a soft bell-note from the table ComWeb. He hesitated, said,
"Go ahead."

"Is intrusion permitted?" the ComWeb inquired.

"Depends," the guest said. "Who's calling?"

"The name is Reetal Destone."

He grinned, appeared pleasantly surprised. "Put the lady through."

There was a brief silence. Then a woman's voice inquired softly,
"Quillan?"

"Right here, doll! Where--"

"Seal the ComWeb, Quillan."

He reached down to the instrument, tapped the seal button, said, "All
right. We're private."

"Probably," the woman's voice said. "But better scramble this, too. I
want to be very sure no one's listening."

Quillan grunted, slid his left hand into an inner coat pocket, briefly
fingered a device of the approximate size and shape of a cigarette,
drew his hand out again. "Scrambling!" he announced. "Now, what--"

"Mayday, Quillan," the soft voice said. "Can you come immediately?"

Quillan's face went expressionless. "Of course. Is it urgent?"

"I'm in no present danger. But we'd better waste no time."

"Is it going to take real hardware? I'm carrying a finger gun at the
moment."

"Then go to your rooms and pick up something useful," Reetal said.
"This should take real hardware, all right."

"All right. Then where do I go?"

"I'll meet you at your door. I know where it is."

When Quillan arrived, she was standing before the door to his suite, a
tall blonde in a s