Brognola looked around. No one had been close enough to pay attention to the shots. Working quickly, he carried the bodies to the battered pickup and tossed them in the back. Luck was with him when he found a tarp in the truck and did not have to search for something to throw over the bodies. He then put the Chrysler back in its parking spot and pulled a suitcase from the trunk.

It did not take much hunting to find the Ford car with the building inspector in the back. The man was just regaining consciousness.

"You okay?" the Fed asked as he helped the man to his feet.

"Groggy as hell. What happened?"

"Did a large man knock you out and steal your car?"

The building inspector nodded. "Yeah. That's right. I remember him now. Wait until I get that son of a bitch."

"I'm afraid someone beat you to it," Brognola told him. He led the city employee to the battered pickup truck and raised the tarpaulin from the dead men's feet.

"His idea wasn't too bright. He got killed trying it."

"Trying what?" the inspector asked.

Brognola showed his Justice Department credentials.

"You'd really be better off not knowing," he told the man. "Shall I arrange for a doctor to look at you? I really think you're fine, but I wouldn't want you to worry."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

Brognola seized the other man's hand and shook it.

The inspector drove out of the parking lot.

Brognola picked up his suitcase and went inside. He went past his secretary with the knees of his pants scuffed. "Slight accident in the parking lot," he explained. "Nothing serious."

Once again he latched the office door. He peeled off the abraded suit and put on another from the suitcase. He reloaded his weapon and continued to wear it.

Lyons and Devine met in the cross corridor.

"No sign of a small Oriental woman. No sign of any Oriental women for that matter," Deborah reported.

"You check the washrooms?"

"Of course. Can you think of any way of telling if she's usually here and just gone for the day?" Deborah asked.

"We weren't told to go around asking questions. That would be risky," Lyons cautioned her. "Let's just go report to this Brognola sap and get out of here."

"Why don't we just get out of here?"

"Arouse less suspicion this way."

They found their way to the president's office. The secretary looked at them expectantly.

"Mr. Brognola said we were to see him when we finished the inspection," Deborah explained.

"He's expecting you. Go right in," the secretary told them.

"Well, Mr. Ironman, how safe is our building?" Brognola asked.

"Clean. No problems," Lyons reported. "Just keep things shipshape and you won't have any problems from me."

"Good. Then that will make two of us who have no problems. When will you visit next?"

"Oh, we'll probably catch you by surprise someday when you're having tea and don't expect us."

"We'll try not to get too slack, Mr. Ironman."

The three shook hands. Devine and Lyons left.

"You were good," Deborah whispered as they headed for the front door.

"It's all in the way you hold your sneer," Lyons confided as he reached for the door.

The door swung inward to meet his hand. He held the door open while Gadgets, Politician and Ti swarmed in.

Before any of them could react, Lyons snarled. "Watch where the hell you're going."

"Sorry," Ti said.

Lyons grabbed Deborah's arm and stalked out. They went to where they had left the building inspector and his car. Both were gone.

"Damn!" Carl Leggit exclaimed. "He came to and took off. We better get out of here."

10

July 12, 1742 hours, Atlanta, Georgia

Lyons and Deborah had to walk almost a mile before they were able to flag a taxi. The walk was made in heavy silence. Lyons had no doubt that Devine had spotted Ti, but could think of no reasonable way of asking her to forget it.

"Where to?" the cabby asked.

"Peachtree Plaza," Lyons grunted.

The two passengers settled back in stony silence. After a while the quiet began to irritate the driver.

As they passed a construction site, he piped up. "Atlanta must be the most rebuilt city in history. Did you know that no part of our skyline is the same as it was in 1970?"

His question was greeted with more silence.

"The hotel where you're going, that's the tallest building in Atlanta. Even that little park they have inside is eight stories high."

More silence.

"You folks already know the city, huh?"

"What city?" Lyons growled.

The cabby gave up.

Lyons paid off the driver and started to saunter along Cain Street. Deborah walked beside him.

"How come we didn't take the cab all the way to headquarters?" she asked.

"And leave a wide trail for anyone who wants to trace us from Elwood?"

"Why here?" she asked.

Lyons had told the cabby to let them off at Peachtree Plaza because it was close to the bus depot where he planned to catch another taxi to the industrial section where WAR and its terrorist arm, HIT, had their head-quarters. Instead of saying so, he took a poke at Deborah's preoccupation.

"Thought we'd spend the night in the tallest building in the city. Nothing like having an indoor park."

"Okay," Deborah replied. Then she made a break for it.

Lyons could not afford to lose her. First, if she beat him back to HIT headquarters and let them know that Lao Ti was at Elwood, he could do nothing to stop the raid from taking place before Brognola was braced for it. Second, Lyons would not dare to show up in front of Jishin not able to account for Deborah Devine's whereabouts.

Lyons barely managed to keep her in sight. She was in good condition and fast on her feet. She seemed better able to steer through the late-rush-hour crush. He followed her for two blocks before finding a sidewalk sufficiently free of pedestrians that he managed to gain ground. She glanced over her shoulder, spotted him and quickly turned into a new building.

The skyscraper was another new hotel, not yet ready to be opened to the public. Lyons paused just inside the door, looking for Deborah. He wondered how Atlantians knew which building they were in. This one had all the usual features of Atlanta architecture, including glass-walled elevators and an acre of forest glade in the middle of the lobby.

Lyons guessed that the construction workers were using a back or side door and that someone had left the front door to the lobby open by mistake. Whoever's carelessness it was, it probably meant that Devine would get away.

Lyons was about to cross the lobby when he heard a rustle under one of the dogwood shrubs. He plunged into the foliage.

A foot shot out and kicked his legs out from under him. At the same time, a small fist tried to catch him on the vulnerable spot behind the ear. He rolled as he fell and grabbed the wrist just behind the fist. His other hand grabbed the arm above the elbow. He could have locked the elbow and dislocated something as he rolled. Instead he allowed the arm to bend and tossed Deborah across the path of his fall.

Lyons hit on his back. The freshly dug soil was as soft as falling on a mattress. Deborah tucked and rolled like a ball, flattening a patch of plants. Lyons lunged after her, staining the knees of his slacks. He caught her ankle and dragged on it before she could regain her feet.

"Hey, officer, we're on the same side," Lyons grunted.

She took a swipe at his head with her closed fist. He managed to deflect the hand upward with his elbow.

Lyons twisted her foot. She was forced to roll onto her stomach. Her hands scraped up fistfuls of soft dirt trying to find something to pull on. In the midst of her frantic clawing, she stopped.