City Wars by Dennis Palumbo Page A

come alone, and again to tell no one of his journey.
    For a moment, he paused to wonder how they’d managed to spirit the message into his private rooms. But he let this thought go quickly. There was little time to do anything but act.
    He glanced at the map they’d provided. He was familiar with the area, as he was with almost every street and corner in the city. They’d chosen their hiding place well.
    Gilcrest crumpled the paper into a ball and dropped it on the carpet. Then he went to his bedroom, hurriedly changed to nondescript clothes, and signaled for his private car. Then he went out into the corridor and called to the sentry standing at the pneumatic.
    The sentry trotted over.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “I wonder if you’d check the Alert Com light sequence at the end of Corridor D,” Gilcrest said. “I thought I noticed something flickering.”
    “Probably some circuit breakdown, sir. Shall I signal Engineering?”
    “Why don’t you run down and check it yourself first. It may be nothing.” Gilcrest smiled. “You know, I can’t always trust these old eyes of mine.”
    The sentry, fresh-faced and newly shaven, returned Gilcrest’s smile and saluted.
    “Back in a minute, sir.”
    After he’d disappeared around the corner, Gilcrest closed and sealed the entrance to his quarters and stepped into the pneumatic. With any luck, when the sentry returned to report the Alert Com in good order, he’d see the sealed doors and simply assume theSenior Minister had gone back to his study to work.
    The pneumatic sped up to street level. Gilcrest’s car had already been wheeled out of its stall. He nodded to the attendant holding the door for him, then slid into the driver’s seat. If the attendant thought it odd that Gilcrest was not utilizing a Government driver, he kept his musings to himself.
    The old man drove out of the garage, flicking the switch on the dash that tinted all four visors, concealing his features. Then, cautiously, he moved the unmarked Government vehicle into the flow of traffic.
    She’d scanned the Records bank twice, just to be sure. But there was no mistake. While the required information was available on Hadrian, Wilkins’ bio tape was incomplete. There was no record of his activities or whereabouts prior to joining Weapons Division.
    Cassandra was still pondering this as she came down the corridor, Hadrian’s tape under her arm. She found the sentry standing before the doors to Gilcrest’s chambers, shaking his head.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing, I guess.” He jerked his thumb down the corridor, in the opposite direction from which she’d come. “Minister Gilcrest sent me to check the Alert Com, and when I got back, he’d gone to his rooms again. Even sealed the doors. You’d think he’d at least wait around for my report.”
    “Perhaps he’s working,” she said absently. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to your post.”
    The sentry nodded and retreated.
    Cassandra hesitated only a moment. Then she inserted her passkey and unlocked the sealing mechanism, releasing the doors.
    A quick check through his chambers confirmed her suspicions. The Minister was gone. Something about the sentry’s story hadn’t sounded right. Gilcrest was not given to worrying about minor electrical malfunctions.
    She went into the study and put down the Hadriantape. Government ministers rarely left the labyrinth, and to do so without the protection of a Guardian was—
    Then she saw the wad of paper on the carpet. She bent and flattened it out in her palm, quickly read the few terse lines. The old man’s actions made perfect sense now.
    She looked at her watch, tried to estimate how much of a head start Gilcrest had gotten. At least twenty minutes.
    Cassandra studied the hand-drawn map the kidnappers had provided, committing it to memory. Then, crumpling it for the second time, she tossed it aside and headed for the door.
    They surrounded him, filling the room with their number. They didn’t