The heavy man frowned. "Maybe," he snapped. "We'll see about that after
we've had a talk with you." He stepped closer. "If you're just a mat
maker, nothing will happen to you. If you really have good mats, you
might even get a nice price for some of your stuff. Come on."

He reached out to take Don's sleeve. Don stepped back, his face
suddenly losing its vague, apologetic expression. His features
sharpened, to become hard, uncompromising.

"Get over to that wall, Fellow," he ordered sharply. "Move!"

The man's hand dropped. For a moment, he stared slackly at Don.

"Come on!" Don's voice raised a little. "Get over to that wall. And
then stand still." He started to shuck off the straps of his pack.

The man before him sobbed helplessly, then shuffled away. Don knelt
down and stripped the pack off. Then he stepped aside and raised a hand
in a beckoning gesture.

"Now get over here," he snapped. "Pick up that pack and take it up to
Mr. Tona's office. I'll follow you."

The man in the cubby rubbed his head for a moment, then picked up the
phone. Don swung toward him. "Put that phone back," he ordered, "and
come out of there. You're coming with us."

* * * * *

Korentona looked up as the small procession entered his office.

"What's happened now?"

Don nodded at him, then faced the man with the pack.

"Put that pack down," he commanded. "Now, stand over there." He
pointed. "And be very quiet." He glanced at the doorman.

"You can stay where you are." He looked at Korentona.

"My apologies," he said, "for being so informal. But I come from the
Kor-en, and I had a little trouble. There's a message for you in the
pack. You know, of course, where to find it. Who are these two?"

Korentona looked worried. "This one," he pointed at the doorman, "is a
trusted employee. He's been with me for years."

He paused, looking at the other man. "But this one, I have never
trusted. I'm sure he reports to the police."

Don glanced at the doorman. "My apologies," he said. "You are free to
go as you will." He looked closely at the other.

"Is this correct?" he demanded. "Are you a police agent?"

The man nodded. "That's right," he said reluctantly. "I'm supposed to
watch this place and report on its visitors."

"Here," Don told him, "is one visitor you won't report." He stopped,
considering, then impaled the man with a cold stare.

"Have you ever seen a man bitten by a gersal?"

T