not waiting for anything.
In the elevator, on the way down, he said, "Those defense mechs. Goddamn. I wish those defense mechs...."
I nudged him. The elevator operator was looking at him closely, andthere's no use taking any chances. He ought to know better.
He was out of the elevator as soon as the door opened at ground level.He walked toward the front entrance. I had to run again to catch upwith him.
"Hey, what's the hurry?" I asked. "Can I come along too?"
He didn't answer, just kept walking. Looking straight ahead, still nothurrying, but moving rapidly nevertheless. When we got outside, heturned right and continued at the same steady pace.
I tugged at his arm. "Hey, the bar I mentioned is the other way."
He shook my hand loose and kept walking. "I want to go this way."
I shrugged and trotted to keep up with him. "Okay. If you know of abetter place, we'll go there. But--"
"This damn headache," he said. "I've had it all day. All afternoon."
"My fault," I said. "I started you puzzling over a problem that concernsonly me...."
He wasn't listening.
There were few pedestrians on this level of traffic; most people whowalked places took the ambulators on the second level. Down here thesidewalks were narrow and the curbs high, the streets being used almostexclusively for heavy transfer and delivery trucks.
A high metal railing along the street-side of the walk preventedcareless pedestrians from stepping in the path of the huge, swift,rumbling vehicles.
But there were no railings at the intersections.
And at the next intersection, Maxwell stepped off the curb, shifted hiscourse just a fraction, and went on at a tangent that would have had himsmack in the middle of a truck-traffic lane.
* * * * *
I grabbed his arm and pulled hard, to get him headed back in the rightdirection.
"What the hell are you trying to do--get yourself killed?"
Which was almost exactly what I'd started to say. But he was the one whosaid it.
So I just said, "_Huh?_"
He jerked his arm free and continued walking--straight toward anoncoming 100-ton semi.
I had a sudden idea of what was going on, and acted rapidly.
I set the defense mech down, because you can't handle a man Maxwell'ssize with only one hand. I grabbed his arm again, this time with bothhands, and pulled as hard as I could. It jerked him off balance and outof danger. The semi roared past.
And Maxwell turned on me with sudden, violent anger.
"Listen," he snapped, "what in hell's the matter with you? What do youthink you're doing?"
I didn't argue with him. I took careful aim and threw a haymaker,giving it everything I had. It caught the point of his chin squarely andjarred me to my ankle.
He swayed a little bit and his face went blank, but he didn't fall.
For which I shall be eternally grateful.
Another giant semi, still nearly a block away, was hurtling toward us.If Maxwell had fallen, I could not possibly have dragged him out of theway in time. And the semi couldn't have stopped in that distance.
As it was, I was able to snatch up the defense mech with one hand andpropel Maxwell to the opposite curb, just seconds before the truck wentby with a whiz and a rattle.
I got Maxwell onto an escalator leading to the second level before hislegs buckled. Then he went to his knees. I managed to get his arm aroundmy shoulder and hoist him back to his feet before we reached the top.
On the second level there were no vehicles; quite a few pedestriansglided by in both directions, on several different speeds of ambulatorbands.
I spotted a bar down the street and dragged Maxwell onto a amband goingthat way.
By the time I got him inside and settled in a booth, he was beginning torecover, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
I ordered a whole bottle of Scotch and handed Maxwell a glass of thestuff. He took it automatically and drank half of it as though it werewater.
* * * * *
He put the glass down quickly and half rose from his seat, clutching histhroat and gasping. I handed him another glass, this one containingwater. He drank it and sat back down, slowly.
"Drink the rest of that Scotch," I said. "Drink it quick and don't askany questions. Someone's got a telenosis beam on you, and he isn'tkidding."
It penetrated, for he emptied the glass with short but rapid gulps. Ifilled the glass again and ordered more water. It took him fifteenminutes to kill the glass this time, taking only a little sip of Scotchfor every deep gulp of water. But he got it down, though he was nearlyunconscious at the end.
"Listen," I said, reaching over to shake his limp shoulder. "Are youstill with me? For the love of heaven, don't pass out on me--that'sabout the worst thing you could do. John!"
He jerked his head and regarded me with unfocused eyes. "Huh? Washmatter, ole fren? I'm wish ya. Wish ya ta the end. Washer trouble, huh?"
I said, "John, listen. You're in danger. We've got to get you out ofhere. Out of town. Back to New York. Right away! Do you understand?"
He nodded limply. I wasn't sure whether he really understood or not. Butif he could only walk, it wouldn't make much difference.
If only he didn't pass out ... it wasn't very far. Just back to thedoor, then into the elevator instead of going onto the street at thislevel. Then, on the third level, only the few feet necessary to catch abus or a cab to take us to the strato-port.
If he _couldn't_ walk, I didn't know what I'd do. Whoever the telenosisoperator was, I was sure he had followed us to this bar throughMaxwell's mind. That's the way telenosis works. Alcohol sets up acomplete barrier, and contact is broken entirely; but about all a blowon the head does is immobilize the victim--visions, commands and otherimpressions can still penetrate, and the operator can still receivewhatever sensations his victim may have.
Maxwell hadn't been unconscious enough for us to be safe. Someone wantedour blood. We had to move fast.
And if he couldn't manage to walk at all....
He couldn't, exactly. But he could get to his feet and lurch and stumblealong after a fashion.
It accomplished the same purpose.
* * * * *
I got him to the third level, and we stood at the entrance of the barwhile I got myself oriented.
I had made a tactical error. Vehicles going to the strato-port stoppedon the other side of the street. And to get there, I would now have towalk Maxwell all the way down to the end of the block to a pedestriancross-walk, then halfway back up the other side.
The alternative was to go down again and cross in the middle of theblock on the pedestrian level, which is what I should have done in thefirst place.
But I wanted to get as far away from the bar as possible and as soon aspossible. So I shrugged and turned to my left, shoving and draggingMaxwell with me.
As I did so, my defense mech started clicking.
Maxwell stumbled and nearly fell. I shoved him against the side of abuilding and leaned against him to keep him up. The liquor had hit himhard. If he once went down, there would be no getting him up. Not by me.
We did better after I wrapped one of his arms around my shoulder. Icould carry part of his weight and I had better control of him. I kepthim as close to the storefronts as possible, to minimize the possibilityof being recognized from a moving vehicle in the street.
It didn't do a bit of good.
They'd probably spotted us as soon as we stepped away from the barentrance. For all I know, they had been waiting for us since we enteredthe bar.
Three of them. Sitting there in the illegally parked light passengersedan just ahead of us.
I saw it when we were still fifteen feet away. I saw it, and I knew whatit was, and I stopped.
The sedan wasn't really parked. It was just pulled over close againstthe curb, moving slowly toward us.
W
hen I stopped, the sedan moved up quickly even with us, and two menstepped out.
I edged Maxwell toward a drugstore entrance a few feet to the left, butthe men from the sedan were at our side in an instant.
"Hey, friend, got a match?" one of them asked for the benefit of apassing couple who glanced at us.
I recognized him. A deep criss-crossed scar ran from above his rightcheekbone vertically down his cheek, ending in a big dent in his jawbone. His lips were thick and loose.
* * * * *
For just an instant I was motionless, frozen, my right hand holdingMaxwell's arm over my shoulder, my left hand gripping the quietlyticking defense mech.
Then I moved almost without thinking about it.
I released my grip on Maxwell's arm, shoving him against the thug that Ididn't recognize. At the same time, I swung my defense mech, aiming