The K-Factor | Page 9

he heard the sirens. Trying to act as
natural as the other pedestrians, he turned to look as the armored cars
and trucks hurtled by. Packed with armed police, their sirens and
revolving lights cleared a path through the dark streets. Neel kept
walking, following the cars now.
The street he wanted to go into was cordoned off.
Showing more than a normal interest would have been a giveaway. He
let himself be hurried past, with no more than a glance down the block,
with the other pedestrians. Cars and men were clustered around a
doorway that Neel felt sure was number 265, his destination.
Something was very wrong.
Had Costa walked into a trap--or tripped an alarm? It didn't really
matter which, either way the balloon had gone up. Neel walked on
slowly, painfully aware of his own inadequacy in dealing with the
situation. It was a time for action--but what action? He hadn't the
slightest idea where Costa was or how he could be of help to him.
Halfway down the block there was a dark mouth of an
alleyway--unguarded. Without stopping to think, Neel turned into it. It
would bring him closer to the building. Perhaps Costa was still trapped
in there. He could get in, help him.
The back of 265 was quiet, with no hint of the activity on the other side
of the building. Neel had counted carefully and was sure he had the
right one. It was completely dark in the unlit alley, but he found a
recessed door by touch. The chances were it was locked, but he moved
into the alcove and leaned his weight against it, pulling at the handle,

just in case. Nothing moved.
An inch behind his back the alley filled with light, washed with it, eye
burning and strong. His eyes snapped shut, but he forced them open
again, blinking against the pain. There were searchlights at each end of
the alley, sealing it off. He couldn't get out.
In the instant before the fear hit him he saw the blood spots on the
ground. There were three of them, large and glistening redly wet. They
extended in a straight line away from him, pointing towards the gaping
entrance of a cellar.
When the lights went out, Neel dived headlong towards the cracked and
filthy pavement. The darkness meant that the police were moving
slowly towards him from both ends of the alley, trapping him in
between. There was nothing doubtful about the fate of an armed
Earthman caught here. He didn't care. Neel's fear wasn't gone--he just
had not time to think about it. His long shot had paid off and there was
still a chance he could get Costa out of the trap he had let him walk
into.
The lights had burned an after-image into his retina. Before it faded he
reached out and felt his fingers slide across the dusty ground into a
patch of wetness. He scrubbed at it with his sleeve, soaking up the
blood, wiping the spot fiercely. With his other hand he pushed together
a pile of dust and dirt, spreading it over the stain. As soon as he was
sure the stain was covered he slid forward, groping for the second
telltale splash.
Time was his enemy and he had no way to measure it. He could have
been lying in the rubble of that alley for an hour--or a second. What
was to be done, had to be done at once without a sound. There were
silent, deadly men coming towards him through the darkness.
After the second smear was covered there was a drawn out moment of
fear when he couldn't find the third and last. His fingers touched it
finally, much farther on than he had expected. Time had certainly run
out. Yet he forced himself to do as good a job here as he had with the

other two. Only when it was dried and covered did he allow himself to
slide forward into the cellar entrance.
Everything was going too fast. He had time for a single deep breath
before the shriek of a whistle paralyzed him again. Footsteps slapped
towards him and one of the searchlights burned with light. The
footsteps speeded up and the man ran by, close enough for Neel to
touch if he had reached out a hand. His clothing was shapeless and torn,
his head and face thick with hair. That was all Neel had time to see
before the guns roared and burned the life from the runner.
Some derelict, sleeping in the alley, who had paid with his life for
being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. But his death had bought
Neel a little more time. He turned and looked into the barrel of a