Let's get them off my back for as long as possible. Wait until you hear a report on any of the newscasts that there was no trace of us and they don't know what happened to us. Then pass the word to the press."
"Can't I do anything more?"
"Believe me, if you do that, that'll be plenty," Cole assured him.
They rode in silence for a few more minutes.
"Say when and where," offered the driver as they approached the center of Pinocchio.
"Here and now," said Cole.
The vehicle came to a stop and gently lowered itself to the pavement. Cole reached forward and shook the driver's hand.
"It's been a privilege meeting you," said the driver. "If you need any help in the future, just ask for—"
"NO!" shouted Cole so sharply that the driver and Potter both jumped.
"What is it?"
"If I don't know your name, no one can force it out of me," explained Cole. He turned to Potter. "By the same token, don't look back at the vehicle. We don't want to know its ID or any identifying marks." Then, to the driver: "Thanks for your help. Try to make that call in a way that can't be traced. Then forget you ever met us."
He got out of the vehicle and began walking. Potter fell into step behind him.
"Where to?" asked Potter.
"Off the street," answered Cole. "I may have dumped the uniform, but like he said, my face is plastered all the hell over."
They ducked into an office building, and Cole called up the directory on a holoscreen.
"There's an office for rent on the fifteenth floor," said Cole, "and there have to be janitor's quarters somewhere, probably in the basement. That'll do until it's dark, but it won't work on a permanent basis. We're going to need food, and there doesn't seem to be anything resembling a cafeteria or a restaurant in the building."
"I know they went after you out in the suburbs," said Potter, "but would they really attack you in the heart of the city?"
"They just wiped out a news crew, probably while it was broadcasting," answered Cole. "Just how secret do you think they're keeping their allegiance to the Teroni Federation now?"
They took an airlift to the fifteenth floor. The door to the empty office was unlocked. They entered, closed the door, and sat down.
"What now?" asked Potter.
"Now we wait long enough for them to find out we're still alive and for our saviour to feed them that phony story about Cinnamon."
"Damn!" said Potter suddenly. "We left in such a hurry I forgot to grab my sonic rifle. I never thought of it until just now."
"If you're going to regret leaving something behind, regret the food."
"I'm not hungry."
"Neither am I—but we're going to be, and we're going to have to show our faces to get anything to eat."
"I could get it and bring it to you."
"You're not used to being on the run, are you?" said Cole. "They didn't trace me to the rental unit. They traced you. They know what you look like by now."
"But that's the media, not the Bug-Eyes."
"Do you really think the media isn't getting all the mileage they can out of this?" responded Cole. "By now your image will be on every newsdisk and holo channel on the planet."
"But they're Men!" protested Potter. "They wouldn't help the enemy!"
"When did a little thing like giving aid and comfort to the enemy ever stop the media?" answered Cole. "We'll stay up here until it's closing time, then go downstairs before we bump into the robot cleaning crew. Who knows what kind of alarm they're programmed to sound if they find someone in an office that's supposed to be for rent?"
An hour later the offices on the floor began emptying out. They waited until the last of them was closed and locked so that no one would see them leaving and report them, then took an airlift back down to the ground floor. Cole began looking for another airlift or even a staircase to the basement. The lobby was crowded, and he found himself the recipient of quite a few curious stares.
Then, suddenly, an alien voice filtered through a T-pack broke the silence.
"Don't move,
"Can't I do anything more?"
"Believe me, if you do that, that'll be plenty," Cole assured him.
They rode in silence for a few more minutes.
"Say when and where," offered the driver as they approached the center of Pinocchio.
"Here and now," said Cole.
The vehicle came to a stop and gently lowered itself to the pavement. Cole reached forward and shook the driver's hand.
"It's been a privilege meeting you," said the driver. "If you need any help in the future, just ask for—"
"NO!" shouted Cole so sharply that the driver and Potter both jumped.
"What is it?"
"If I don't know your name, no one can force it out of me," explained Cole. He turned to Potter. "By the same token, don't look back at the vehicle. We don't want to know its ID or any identifying marks." Then, to the driver: "Thanks for your help. Try to make that call in a way that can't be traced. Then forget you ever met us."
He got out of the vehicle and began walking. Potter fell into step behind him.
"Where to?" asked Potter.
"Off the street," answered Cole. "I may have dumped the uniform, but like he said, my face is plastered all the hell over."
They ducked into an office building, and Cole called up the directory on a holoscreen.
"There's an office for rent on the fifteenth floor," said Cole, "and there have to be janitor's quarters somewhere, probably in the basement. That'll do until it's dark, but it won't work on a permanent basis. We're going to need food, and there doesn't seem to be anything resembling a cafeteria or a restaurant in the building."
"I know they went after you out in the suburbs," said Potter, "but would they really attack you in the heart of the city?"
"They just wiped out a news crew, probably while it was broadcasting," answered Cole. "Just how secret do you think they're keeping their allegiance to the Teroni Federation now?"
They took an airlift to the fifteenth floor. The door to the empty office was unlocked. They entered, closed the door, and sat down.
"What now?" asked Potter.
"Now we wait long enough for them to find out we're still alive and for our saviour to feed them that phony story about Cinnamon."
"Damn!" said Potter suddenly. "We left in such a hurry I forgot to grab my sonic rifle. I never thought of it until just now."
"If you're going to regret leaving something behind, regret the food."
"I'm not hungry."
"Neither am I—but we're going to be, and we're going to have to show our faces to get anything to eat."
"I could get it and bring it to you."
"You're not used to being on the run, are you?" said Cole. "They didn't trace me to the rental unit. They traced you. They know what you look like by now."
"But that's the media, not the Bug-Eyes."
"Do you really think the media isn't getting all the mileage they can out of this?" responded Cole. "By now your image will be on every newsdisk and holo channel on the planet."
"But they're Men!" protested Potter. "They wouldn't help the enemy!"
"When did a little thing like giving aid and comfort to the enemy ever stop the media?" answered Cole. "We'll stay up here until it's closing time, then go downstairs before we bump into the robot cleaning crew. Who knows what kind of alarm they're programmed to sound if they find someone in an office that's supposed to be for rent?"
An hour later the offices on the floor began emptying out. They waited until the last of them was closed and locked so that no one would see them leaving and report them, then took an airlift back down to the ground floor. Cole began looking for another airlift or even a staircase to the basement. The lobby was crowded, and he found himself the recipient of quite a few curious stares.
Then, suddenly, an alien voice filtered through a T-pack broke the silence.
"Don't move,
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