The Dark Lady

on the town, and will keep a watchful eye on the building's entrance.”
    “The security system will tell them you are here!” I said.
    “So it will,” he said, surprised. “I had quite forgotten that.” He turned to me, an amused expression on his face. “You know, you have the makings of a truly exceptional fugitive, Leonardo.”
    "Please!" I said.
    “Well, we can't go up and we can't go down. I suppose the audacious approach is the best. Follow me.”
    We climbed down a flight of stairs and emerged on the fifth floor.
    “What do we do next?” I asked nervously.
    “We very calmly walk out through the front door,” he answered.
    “Surely you are not serious!”
    “I most certainly am.”
    “But they know I am a Bjornn!” I protested. “They will be looking for me!”
    He smiled. “But they don't know what a Bjornn looks like. If they've ever seen one before, which I for one doubt, they probably think that you're green and black with a circular pattern. Believe me, to them you'll just be another alien.”
    A set of elevator doors opened. Heath walked over, looked into the empty compartment, but did not enter it.
    “I knew you were jesting,” I said as an enormous sense of relief swept over me.
    “Not at all,” he replied. “I'm simply waiting for a crowded elevator.”
    “Why?”
    “Because then we'll be members of a group coming down from the upper levels of the building, and the police are looking for two individuals coming up from the basement.”
    “And you think that will fool them?” I demanded incredulously.
    “Let's find out, shall we?” he said as a partially full elevator stopped at our floor, and I had no choice but to follow him into it.
    My hue became several shades brighter as my terror increased, and between that and the Mallachi painting I felt hideously conspicuous when we finally emerged into the lobby. Heath had struck up a conversation with an elderly gentleman, and continued talking to him as we came to a trio of uniformed police at the front door of the building. He even nodded pleasantly to one of them, and to my absolute amazement the officer nodded back and paid no further attention to any of us.
    As the group split up upon leaving the building, we followed a foursome that had turned to our left— the opposite direction from where the Mollutei was waiting with Heath's vehicle— and rode the slidewalk until we were out of sight of the police. Then Heath took a small communicator from his pocket and signaled to the Mollutei, and a moment later his vehicle pulled up next to us.
    “Well done, James,” he remarked as we clambered into it. “I think you'd best take us to the spaceport.”
    “Where are we going?” I asked, my heart still pounding rapidly in my chest.
    “It will be a few hours before the police realize how easily we fooled them, but once they do, they're going to be very cross with us. When that unhappy moment occurs, I think it would behoove us to be a long distance away— so I guess we might as well try to find Sergio Mallachi after all.” He leaned back on the seat and grinned. “Next stop— Hell.”

10.
    My first sensation was one of stiffness. Every joint in my body seemed frozen, and it took an enormous effort of will just to move my fingers.
    Then, as feeling gradually returned to me, came the hunger: overwhelming, voracious, insatiable.
    Finally there was the light, beating against my eyelids and forcing my eyes to water even before I could open them. I tried to wipe the tears from my face with my hand and found that I could not bend my arm sufficiently.
    Suddenly a voice, distant and remote, impinged upon my consciousness.
    “Welcome back,” it said. “I trust you slept well.”
    I tried to ask where I was, but my lips would not respond to my mental commands and all that came out was an unintelligible noise.
    “Don't try to speak or move yet,” said the voice, and now I recognized it as Valentine Heath's. “You're just waking up. You'll be fine in another two or three minutes.”
    I forced an eye open and tried to look at him, but my pupil was completely dilated and I couldn't focus.
    “Where am I?” I managed to mumble, as more feeling returned to me.
    “Aboard my spaceship,” answered Heath.
    “Where is your ship?”
    “About three weeks out of Charlemagne, or four hours from Acheron, depending on which direction you're facing.”
    Finally I was able to reach my face with my hand, and I wiped away the tears and gingerly