on
Nevan had formed early: given the opportunity, he and Owajima could
easily become friends.

This man, for instance. He'd owed Owajima a debt, true, but it had
been loyalty rather than obligation that had led him to help the way he
had. Assuming he was successful in this mission, Nevan thought, he'd
have to see the businesser got some sort of compensation. Though the
man had definitely been in serious pain, Nevan had inflicted no real
damage beyond bruises; when the man woke, he'd be able to function
normally.

Nevan was tempted to clean the man up, put him to bed, and dose him
with rapid-heal--but that wasn't how one with his cover occupation
would act. Instead, he got an injector of energine and triggered it
into the businesser's carotid artery. Seconds later, the man's eyes
opened and he groaned. "Are you done yet?"

"Yes. You may get dressed and leave. I would advise you to waste no
time; liftoff is in ten minutes."

"I'll be gone." The man struggled to his feet and into the small
'fresher, where Nevan had had him leave his clothing; less than two
minutes later he was leaving the ship.

Nevan had his flight plan ready by then. He transmitted it to the
spaceport controller, got clearance, and was lifting off at the
specified time. Not long afterward, he was far enough from the planet
to make the transition to hyperspace, and did so.

* * * * *

Owajima smiled as he read his agent's decoded message. DarLowrie had
acted precisely as could be expected from a Sandeman assassin, it
seemed, though Owajima was pleased his agent reported nothing more
serious than bruises. He frowned, though, when he reached the last
paragraph.

"Personal impressions: I can't pinpoint it, but something about him
reminds me of you. The feeling you give me of being looked into more
than at, maybe. It's not the typical Sandeman arrogance that makes you
feel like you're not worth the bother of looking at--it's more like
being under a microscope. I'm sorry to be so vague, but as I said,
there wasn't anything definite I can point to."

A feeling of being looked into rather than at. Owajima frowned more
deeply. That bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a particularly
observant person's reaction to someone who was reading @'s face and
body language. That was not a common skill, particularly among
Sandemans--though he had to admit it would be as useful a skill for an
assassin as it was for a fi