ng wenches who don't
wear too much."

He hailed a ground-cab, which the two entered.

Hanlon couldn't enjoy that evening. In the first place, he couldn't
ditch all his drinks--and he hated alcohol--yet had to remain as sober
as possible. Second, and most disturbing, was that horrible thing he had
to do, and he knew it must be carefully planned. A gun, knife or poison
couldn't be used now--it must look so much like an accident that no
possible blame could be attached to him; so that the police could not
hold him even for a short time.

He thought of and discarded one plan after another, then remembered
something seen during his wanderings--a pedestrian bridge crossing a
high-speed truckway where the inter-city freighters were so numerous
they ran almost bumper to bumper. "I'll lead him up there, then throw
him over and down. He's sure to be run over and killed."

The nakedness of the girls at the Phobos, the coarse jokes of the
so-called comedians, the raucous, ribald laughter of the drunken patrons
disgusted Hanlon, and he was glad when they left.

"Let's walk a bit and see the sights," he suggested, and Rellos agreed
after some argument--he wanted to visit more night clubs.

They had walked a couple of blocks along a residential street when a
little, roly-poly puppy waddled out onto the sidewalk to greet them.

"What a cute ..." Hanlon began, but with an oath, Rellos savagely and
viciously kicked the little mite, sending it howling with pain across
the low hedge.

A growl of anguish broke out, and Hanlon sent his mind searching for
that deeper note. He found it, the mother dog, and was instantly inside
that mind, controlling it.

With a leap the huge shepherd was over the hedge, straight at Rellos.
The dog's weight bore the man backward, fighting for his life, trying to
hold back those gleaming fangs straining for his throat.

Hanlon threw himself into the melee, but while ostensibly trying to drag
the dog away, delayed the few seconds it took for those slashing fangs
to rip out Rellos' throat.

People came running up, and as the first reached the spot they saw
Hanlon struggling to hold back the snarling, blood-flecked dog, while
Rellos lay dead in a pool of blood.

The dog's owner rushed up and snapped a leash on the dog.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Hanlon said. "My companion was drunk and
kicked her puppy. She merely avenged it."

"I wondered," the man was shaken. "Kaiserina never was vicious before.