Maxine was still trying to decide on her story when the communicator buzzed again. She strode over and picked it up. "Yeah?"

            It was the guard downstairs. "Boss, that Legion captain's here, with a bunch of soldiers, and they're loaded for bear. The customers are buggin'. How you want me to play it?"

            Maxine's reply was instantaneous. "Stall 'em-and keep your own guns out of sight. I'll be straight down." She disconnected, and headed for the door. Halfway there, she stopped and checked her gun; it was ready and loaded. For a moment, she considered leaving it behind-it would be next to useless against the legionnaires' weaponry, and more likely to get her into trouble than to get her out of it-but long years of habit overrode the prudent impulse. She returned it to its concealed holster and stomped out the door.

            Down in the lobby, Phule was there with half a dozen legionnaires. From behind the nearby row of quantum slot machines, tourists stared at Phule and his men (although they kept pumping in coins). A few nervous gamblers waited at the window, cashing their chips while they still had the chance. And several bulky gentlemen-plainclothes casino security-occupied seats in the lobby area, studiously ignoring the armed invasion.

            Phule turned when he saw her and said, "About time, Mrs. Pruett. I have a confirmed report that my butler was in this building. Where are you keeping him?"

            "Keeping him? Are you crazy?" Maxine said, taken aback. "What the hell do I want your butler for?"

            "I don't know, but I want him back," said Phule. "And I'm not going to wait very long."

            "Look, I don't know where he is and I don't care. Feel free to search the place," said Maxine. She was confident that anything she didn't want him to see was well hidden; the place had been built on the assumption that search parties might occasionally come through. A few had, over the years, though none had penetrated beyond the nominally secret areas where teams of casino employees conducted surveillance and security operations, all perfectly legal and innocuous. Maxine's real secrets were much better hidden.

            "You don't care?" said Phule. "Not even if he's run off with your assistant?"

            Maxine stared him down. "What if he has? She's of legal age, after all."

            "If she knows half as much about your business as he knows about mine, we're both in trouble," the captain hissed. Then he looked around and said, "Is there someplace we can talk? Someplace secure? There are too many people here for my nerves."

            "Too many for my nerves, too," she said, seizing the moment. "Most of 'em are your troops, if you want to know the truth. Get 'em the hell out of here, so my customers can go back to playing instead of gawking at all that hardware, and I'm sure we can find a place to talk."

            "We can arrange that," said Phule. He turned to his troops. "I'll be talking to Mrs. Pruett. You take up positions outside-with your eyes open. I'll be half an hour-if I need more time, I'll call you." He tapped his wrist communicator. "If you don't hear from me by then, you call me. If I don't answer, you know what to do. Understood? Do whatever you need to do."

            "Yes, sir!" said the squad leader, a huge man with sergeant's stripes. He signalled the troops and they began to file out the door.

            Maxine nodded. "This way," she said, and Phule followed her to her office. He took the chair she offered, and they sat facing each other across a large desk. "Now," said Maxine, "what makes you think I know anything about your butler?"

            "You as much as said so," said Phule. "'She's of legal age'-you know they're together, or you wouldn't have been talking that way. We'll both save time if we cooperate on this. I want my butler back, you want your assistant...maybe for different reasons, but we both want the same thing. We both gain by working together on this."

            Maxine didn't blink. "Working together how?"

            "Ah, I knew you'd get down to business when you saw the advantages," said Phule. "Here's the way I see it. We can't equal your intelligence sources on-station-we aren't bad, mind you, just not your equal. Yet. We do pick up items you wouldn't, and as far as our off-station sources-well, you're not in that league."

            "You'd be surprised," said the mob boss. "But let's say it's so-you're saying we share whatever tips we get? What's to stop somebody from keeping secrets?"

            "Really, Mrs. Pruett," said Phule. "We aren't going to pass along sensitive information, and neither are you. But we have to trust each other to pass along anything relevant to our mutual business. Just as we have to trust whoever finds the fugitives to return them in good condition-my butler is of no use to me dead."

            "No accidentally shot resisting arrest, in other words," said Maxine. "Well, I hate to tie my people's hands that way. It's going to make things more expensive."

            "I don't know about your assistant, but I can assure you that losing my butler will make things extremely expensive for me," said Phule. "There won't be any accidents, will there?"

            "No accidents," said Maxine. "I don't see how I've got anything to lose passing along a tip that might help me as much as it does you, if you'll do the same for us. And we'll pass along your butler if we catch him. My guarantee on it.

            "And we'll send your assistant back," said Phule. "Here's what we know: My butler didn't come back from a visit to this hotel, for a lunch date. We searched his room a while ago; there wasn't much missing, just everything he'd take if he weren't planning to come back. And he took a few pieces of, uh, company property that I had issued to him for use in his work. That's when I called you."

            "Right, one of our guys saw him leaving here," said Maxine, deciding she could confirm Phule's deduction. "Right about lunchtime, in fact-with my assistant. Ten-to-one those two have gone freelance. They're old enough to know better."

            "That's for sure," said Phule. "I thought Beeker was..." His communicator buzzed. "Jester here," he answered. He put it to his ear for privacy, but Maxine could hear the buzz of an excited voice-a woman's voice from the pitch. "When?...I see. They're certain?...Well, we'd never get the authority to run them down in space, but we can grab them at the other end. Who do we know there? OK, stay in touch. Jester out."

            "They've left the station," said Maxine.

            "Right. Two-nineteen shuttle to the Patriot liner, which went translight three hours ago. Next stop is Trannae. We'll have somebody looking for them when they land. Do you have anybody there?"

            "Maybe," said Maxine, trying to remember which family was in charge at Trannae. It was about ninety days' journey to Trannae, if she remembered correctly-which translated to what? Three weeks shiptime, she thought. Laverna would know...

            Phule broke into her thoughts. "I'll get the arrival info sent to you as soon as I get back to my office, but it looks as if we've got them," he said. "They aren't going to get off a liner in hyperspace."

            "Good," she said. "I think we've got a deal-and now, would you and your soldiers get off my property? You're frightening the marks."