mirror and pressed a blank section of the wall directlyopposite. The wall faded and a robot in an impressive black-and-whitelivery stared at him with the proper insolence.
"Your invitation, sir."
"What?" he said tipsily.
"Your invitation, sir." The voice was louder and the insolenceincreased. If he asked again, the robot would very likely shove him outand close the door. Delicately adjusted and unhumanly strong, it was abit too invariable in the behavior department to be consistentlyefficient.
His knowledge of robots was more than fair. In a few seconds he sized upthe model facing him. A thin slip fluttered from his hand to the floor.The robot bent over to pick it up. At that instant Jadiver thrust along, thin, double-tined fork deep into the back of the robot's neck,probing for the right place. He found it. Time became static for therobot; it remained bent over and could not move.
Jadiver rifled the pockets, removed all the invitations, glanced atthem, found one that would do, and thrust the rest back. Shadows offigures passed across the field behind the robot. Could they see whatJadiver was doing? Probably not; privacy was too highly regarded.Nevertheless, some people were coming down the corridor and _they_ couldsee when and if they got close. Stepping back, he took away thedouble-tined fork and the robot straightened up.
"You dropped something, sir," said the robot, handing him the slip fromthe floor.
"It was nothing," said Jadiver, taking it. That was the best descriptionof what he had dropped. He extended the invitation he had just filched.
The robot grasped the invitation and seemed unable to focus. It tried toexamine the markings invisible to human eyes. It passed a trembling handacross a troubled forehead.
"Didn't you come in half an hour ago?" it asked in bewilderment.
Someone had--the person to whom the invitation had been issued. Therobot, of course, had remembered.
"Nonsense," said Jadiver sharply. "Do you feel right? Are you sure ofyour equilibrium?"
If it was sure, he had miscalculated badly. Robots were so much more orless than humans. It should be possible to design a perfect robot, onethat would realize all the potentialities of a mechanical personality.It had never been done; anthropomorphic conceptions had alwaysinterfered.
"Must be mistaken," mumbled the robot, and swayed. It would collapse intwenty minutes. The robot pressed a button and the field behind himflickered off. Jadiver passed through it and the field fell back inplace.
* * * * *
Inside, he looked around. The usual swank, or maybe more so. Impressive,if he cared to be impressed by it. At the moment he didn't. He had tofind Burlingame or Emily. He had created the faces of the other three aswell, but he had made them into handsome nonentities. Among so manyothers who resembled them, he doubted that he could recognize them.
For an instant he thought he saw Emily and made his way through thecrowd. When he got there, he saw his mistake. This girl's flesh hadn'tbeen put on with a spray gun.
Burlingame was after jewels, of course, to be carefully selected fromtwo or three of the wealthier guests. He must also have currency inmind, something negotiable for immediate use. He'd need cash to drop outof sight for a while.
Time was growing short for a word with Burlingame, just one word,whispered or spelled out silently: "Police." That was all Burlingamewould need.
Jadiver was weaponless, and aside from warning Burlingame, he couldn'thelp. Until now he'd steered clear of violence and illegality. He'dknown the use to which his disguises had been put, but that was thebusiness of those who paid him.
Now it was different. The police had a line to him, direct. How muchthey knew was impossible to estimate. He could visualize a techniciansitting in front of a screen, seeing everything that Jadiver saw. That,however, was a guess, for he didn't actually know how the circuitbeneath his skin functioned. Until he learned, he would have to continueguessing, and blunder accordingly.
He made his way to the balcony that encircled half the huge high room.He didn't know the entire layout or the habits of those who lived here,but it was reasonably certain that they kept a large amount of cash onhand and that it would be safeguarded in a room not accessible to allthe guests. It might even be up here.
The few people on the balcony were at the far end. He looked down on themilling guests. Still no sign of Burlingame or any of his crew. Jadiverhad done his work too well. They were indistinguishable from the others.
At that moment, the lights brightened glaringly. The guests looked lessglamorous. Women bulged excessively, top-heavy, and the tanned faces ofthe men turned an unpleasant gray.
Magically, uniforms appeared at every exit.
"Attention," a harsh voice rang out. "Please line up. There arecriminals among you and we can identify them."
* * * * *
Jadiver didn't listen to the rest. His eyes were on the uniformed men.Mercifully, they carried tangle guns. That much he was thankful for.Burlingame and his crew would be taken alive. They might not like whatwould happen later, but at least they would live.
The tangle gun was the most effective and least lethal weapon everconceived. It would bring down a butterfly at two hundred yards and holdit there, without crumpling a wing or disturbing the dustlike scales. Itwould do the same with a Venusian saurian or a Martian windbeast, eitherof which outbulked an elephant and outsavaged a tiger.
It didn't have to hit the target. With proximity fuses--and it wasusually furnished that way--it was sufficient for the bullet to passnear. Jadiver drew a deep breath. No one was going to get killed becauseof him. Nevertheless, his skin crawled.
He gazed down at the guests lining up. They, too, knew what tangle gunswere.
Suddenly a man darted out of line and headed toward one of the exits. Hecollided with an officer and the policeman went down. A tangle gunsnapped. The running man fell headlong. Three more times the tangle gunfired at the man writhing on the floor--at his hands, at his face, andagain at his legs.
The tangle gun propelled a plastic bullet, and that plastic was aparadox. It was the stickiest substance known and would adhere to asphere of polished platinum, tearing away the solid metal if it wereforcibly removed without first being neutralized. It also extrudeditself into fine, wire-like strands on a moving object. The moreanything moved, the tighter it wrapped around. The victim was better offto relax. He couldn't escape; no one ever had.
Jadiver watched the man threshing on the floor. One shot would have beenenough. Someone on the Venicity force liked to see men squirm.
As nearly as Jadiver could determine, the man on the floor was notBurlingame. The leader hadn't been taken, but he didn't have long toenjoy his freedom. The theory he had about teamwork was tarnished now--afeint here and a block there--and they were all headed into the arms ofthe Venicity police. It couldn't work against superior force, and anambush set unwittingly by Jadiver.
Then Jadiver saw them. They moved as a unit--Burlingame, Emily and twoothers. They smashed through the guests with a formation that had theflying wedge as a remote ancestor. Burlingame was leading it, tangle gunin hand. The guests were thrown back and a policeman went down.
It was hard to fire into the mob through which Burlingame and his crewwere bulling. In that respect, the tangle gun was not selective. Itseized on any motion.
They couldn't make it, but Jadiver hoped for them. They were at the edgeof the crowd. Between them and freedom was a thin cordon of police.Beyond the police was a planted area where jungle vines and shrubs,considerably taller than a man, grew dense. Just past that area were twoexits leading to the street.
From the balcony, Jadiver could see it clearly. If they could reach theexits, they had a chance for flight.
They broke through the cordon. They shouldn't have, for superior trainedmen were opposing them. But it was another kind of training thatBurlingame was using and with it he split the police. The group plungedinto the jungle shrubs and emerged on the other side. The police on theflo
or couldn't see them, the planted area screened off the view. Theywere almost safe.
The exits opened before they could reach them--more police. Burlingamewent down, a cloud around his face, weaving wire shapes that tightenedon his throat. The other two stumbled as police fired at their feet.
* * * * *
Emily alone was not hit. She was close and moving too fast. She escapedthe tangle guns, but ran directly into the arms of a burly officer. Helaughed and grabbed her as if she were a robot. She bit him.
He swore at her and swiftly looked around. The guests couldn't see. Hehit her solidly in the middle. She gasped for breath. He took out histangle gun and fired into her mouth.
Jadiver sicklily knew he had been wrong about the tangle gun; it couldkill if the person who used it had sufficient experience and brutality.
Emily would never have to lose that beautiful