ll. I'm sure you
can go back tomorrow."

She vanished through the door with a rustle of white dacron. Albert,
after listening a moment to make sure that she was gone, rose to his
feet and began an inspection of his room.

It wasn't a jail cell. Not quite. But it wasn't designed for easy
escape, either. It was on the top floor of the IC building, a good
hundred feet down to the street below. The window was covered with a
steel grating and the door was locked. But both window and door were
designed to hold a sick man rather than a healthy and desperate one.

Albert looked out of the window. The building was constructed to
harmonize with native structures surrounding it, so the outer walls were
studded with protuberances and bosses that would give adequate handholds
to a man strong enough to brave the terrors of the descent.

Looking down the wall, Albert wavered. Thinking back, he made up his
mind.

* * * * *

Fred Kemmer was disturbed. By all the rules, Albert Johnson should be
dead. But Shifaz had failed, and that fool guard _had_ to call in the
medics. It was going to be harder to get at Johnson, now that he was in
the infirmary, but he had to be reached.

One might buy off an agent who was merely checking on tax evasion, but
tobacco was another matter entirely. Kemmer wished he hadn't agreed to
boss Operation Weed. The glowing dreams of promotion and fortune were
beginning to yellow around the edges. Visions of the Penal Colony
bothered him, for if the operation went sour, he would do the paying. He
had known that when he took the job, but the possibility seemed remote
then.

He shook his head. It wasn't that bad yet. As long as Johnson hadn't
communicated with anyone else and as long as he was still in company
hands, something could be done.

Kemmer thought a while, trying to put himself in Johnson's place.
Undoubtedly the spy was frightened, and undoubtedly he would try to
escape. And since it would be far easier to escape from the infirmary
than it would be from detention, he would try as soon as possible.

Kemmer's face cleared. If Johnson tried it, he would find it wasn't as
easy as he thought.

With characteristic swiftness, Kemmer outlined his plans and made the
necessary arrangements. A guard was posted in the hall with orders to
shoot if Johnson tried the door of his room, and Kemmer himself took a
stand in the building across the street, facing the hospital, where