Chapter II

It was a dark and rainy night in early fall. Gabe Lockard was in no condition to drive the helicar. However, he was stubborn.

“Let me take the controls, honey,” the light-haired girl urged, but he shook his handsome head.

“Show you I can do something ‘sides look pretty,” he said thickly, referring to an earlier and not amicable conversation they had held, and of which she still bore the reminder on one thickly made-up cheek.

Fortunately the car was flying low, contrary to regulations, so that when they smashed into the beacon tower on the outskirts of the little town, they didn’t have far to fall. And hardly had their car crashed on the ground when the car that had been following them landed, and a short fat man was puffing toward them through the mist.

To the girl’s indignation, the stranger not only hauled Gabe out onto the dripping grass first, but stopped and deliberately examined the young man by the light of his minilume, almost as if she weren’t there at all. Only when she started to struggle out by herself did he seem to remember her existence. He pulled her away from the wreck just a moment before the fuel tank exploded and the ‘copter went up in flames.

Gabe opened his eyes and saw the fat man gazing down at him speculatively. “My guardian angel,” he mumbled--shock had sobered him a little, but not enough. He sat up. “Guess I’m not hurt or you’d have thrown me back in.”

“And that’s no joke,” the fat man agreed.

The girl shivered and at that moment Gabriel suddenly seemed to recall that he had not been alone. “How about Helen? She on course?”

“Seems to be,” the fat man said. “You all right, miss?” he asked, glancing toward the girl without, she thought, much apparent concern.

“Mrs.,” Gabriel corrected. “Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Gabriel Lockard,” he said, bowing from his seated position toward the girl. “Pretty bauble, isn’t she?”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Gabriel Lockard,” the fat man said, looking at her intently. His small eyes seemed to strip the make-up from her cheek and examine the livid bruise underneath. “I hope you’ll be worthy of the name.” The light given off by the flaming car flickered on his face and Gabriel’s and, she supposed, hers too. Otherwise, darkness surrounded the three of them.

There were no public illuminators this far out--even in town the lights were dimming and not being replaced fast enough nor by the newer models. The town, the civilization, the planet all were old and beginning to slide downhill...

Gabe gave a short laugh, for no reason that she could see.

There was the feeling that she had encountered the fat man before, which was, of course, absurd. She had an excellent memory for faces and his was not included in her gallery. The girl pulled her thin jacket closer about her chilly body. “Aren’t you going to introduce your--your friend to me, Gabe?”

“I don’t know who he is,” Gabe said almost merrily, “except that he’s no friend of mine. Do you have a name, stranger?”

“Of course I have a name.” The fat man extracted an identification card from his wallet and read it. “Says here I’m Dominic Bianchi, and Dominic Bianchi is a retail milgot dealer ... Only he isn’t a retail milgot dealer any more; the poor fellow went bankrupt a couple of weeks ago, and now he isn’t ... anything.”

“You saved our lives,” the girl said. “I’d like to give you some token of my--of our appreciation.” Her hand reached toward her credit-carrier with deliberate insult. He might have saved her life, but only casually, as a by-product of some larger scheme, and her appreciation held little gratitude.

The fat man shook his head without rancor. “I have plenty of money, thank you, Mrs. Gabriel Lockard ... Come,” he addressed her husband, “if you get up, I’ll drive you home. I warn you, be more careful in the future! Sometimes,” he added musingly, “I almost wish you would let something happen. Then my problem would not be any problem, would it?”

Gabriel shivered. “I’ll be careful,” he vowed. “I promise--I’ll be careful.”