Jisbella's voice came to him, tinny on the earphones and agitated: «Gully, can you hear me? This is Jiz. Gully, listen to me.»

«Go ahead.»

«Another ship came up two minutes ago. It's drifting on the other side of the asteroid.»

«What!»

«It's marked with yellow and black colors, like a hornet.»

«Dagenham's colors!»

«Then we've been followed.»

«What else? Dagenham's probably had a fix on me ever since we busted out of Gouffre Martel. I was a fool not to think of it. We've got to work fast, Jiz. Cork up in a suit and meet me aboard 'Nomad.' The purser's room. Go, girl.»

«But Gully . . .»

«Sign off. They may be monitoring our waveband. Go!»

He drove through the asteroid, reached a barrel hatch, broke through the guard before it, smashed it open and went into the void of the outer passages. The Scientific People were too desperate getting the hatch closed to stop him. But he knew they would follow him; they were raging.

He hauled the bulk of his equipment through twists and turns to the wreck of the «Nomad.» Jisbella was waiting for him in the purser's room. She made a move to turn on her micro-wave set and Foyle stopped her. He placed his helmet against hers and shouted: «No shortwave. They'll be monitoring and they'll locate us by D/F. You can hear me like this, can't you?»

She nodded.

«All right. We've got maybe an hour before Dagenham locates us. We've got maybe an hour before Joseph and his mob come after us. We're in a hell of a jam. We've got to work fast.»

She nodded again.

«No time to open the safe and transport the bullion.»

«If it's there.»

«Dagenham's here, isn't he? That's proof it's there. We'll have to cut the whole safe out of the 'Nomad' and get it into the Weekender. Then we blast.»

«But…”

«Just listen to me and do what I say. Go back to the Weekender. Empty it out. Jettison everything we don't need . . . all supplies except emergency rations.»

«Why?»

«Because I don't know how many tons this safe weighs, and the ship may not be able to handle it when we come back to gravity. We've got to make allowances in advance. It'll mean a tough trip back but it's worth it. Strip the ship. Fast! Go, girl. Go!»

He pushed her away and without another glance in her direction, attacked the safe. It was built into the structural steel of the hull, a massive steel ball some four feet in diameter. It was welded to the strakes and ribs of the «Nomad» at twelve different spots. Foyle attacked each weld in turn with acids, drills, thermite, and refrigerants. He was operating on the theory of structural strain . . . to heat, freeze, and etch the steel until its crystalline structure was distorted and its physical strength destroyed. He was fatiguing the metal.

Jisbella returned and he realized that forty-five minutes had passed. He was dripping and shaking but the globe of the safe hung free of the hull with a dozen rough knobs protruding from its surface. Foyle motioned urgently to Jisbella and she strained her weight against the safe with him. They could not budge its mass together. As they sank back in exhaustion and despair, a quick shadow eclipsed the sunlight pouring through the rents in the «Nomad» hull. They stared up. A spaceship was circling the asteroid less than a quarter of a mile off.

Foyle placed his helmet against Jisbella's. «Dagenham,» he gasped. «Looking for us. Probably got a crew down here combing for us too. Soon as they talk to Joseph they'll be here.»

«Oh Gully.”

«We've still got a chance. Maybe they won't spot Sam's Weekender until they've made a couple of revolutions. It's hidden in that crater. Maybe we can get the safe aboard in the meantime.»

«How, Gully?»

«I don't know, damn it! I don't know.» He pounded his fists together in frustration. «I'm finished.»

«Couldn't we blast it out?»

«Blast . . . ? What, bombs instead of brains? Is this Mental McQueen speaking?»

«Listen. Blast it with something explosive. That would act like a rocket jet . . . give it a thrust.»

«Yes, I've got that. But then what? How do we get it into the ship, girl? Can't keep blasting. Haven't got time.»

«No, we bring the ship to the safe.»

«What?»

«Blast the safe straight out into space. Then bring the ship around and let the safe sail right into the main hatch. Like catching a ball in your hat. See?»

He saw. «By God, Jiz, we can do it.» Foyle leaped to the pile of equipment and began sorting out sticks of dynamite gelatine, fuses and caps.

«We'll have to use the short-wave. One of us stays with the safe; one of us pilots the ship. Man with the safe talks the man with the ship into position. Right?»

«Right. You'd better pilot, Gully. I'll do the talking.»

He nodded, fixing explosive to the face of the safe, attaching caps and fuses. Then he placed his helmet against hers. «Vacuum fuses, Jiz. Timed for two minutes. When I give the word by short-wave, just pull off the fuse i heads and get the hell out of the way. Right?»

«Right.»

«Stay with the safe. Once you've talked it into the ship, come right after it. Don't wait for anything. It's going to be close.»

He thumped her shoulder and returned to the Weekender. He left the outer hatch open, and the inner door of the airlock as well. The ship's air emptied out immediately. Airless and stripped by Jisbella, it looked dismal and forlorn.

Foyle went directly to the controls, sat down and switched on his microwave set. «Stand by,» he muttered. «I'm coming out now.»

He ignited the jets, blew the laterals for three seconds and then the forwards. The Weekender lifted easily, shaking debris from her back and sides like a whale surfacing. As she slid up and back, Foyle called: «Dynamite, Jiz! Now!»

There was no blast; there was no flash. A new crater opened in the asteroid below him and a flower of rubble sprang upward, rapidly outdistancing a dull steel ball that followed leisurely, turning in a weary spin.

«Ease off.» Jisbella's voice came cold and competent over the earphones. «You're backing too fast. And incidentally, trouble's arrived.»

He braked with the rear jets, looking down in alarm. The surface of the asteroid was covered with a swarm of hornets. They were Dagenham's crew in yellow and black banded spacesuits. They were buzzing around a single figure in white that dodged and spun and eluded them. It was Jisbella.

«Steady as you go,» Jiz said quietly, although he could hear how hard she was breathing. «Ease off a little more. . .Roll a quarter turn.»

He obeyed her almost automatically, still watching the struggle below. The flank of the Weekender cut off any view of the trajectory of the safe as it approached him, but he could still see Jisabella and Dagenham's men. She ignited her suit rocket . . . he could see the tiny spurt of flame shoot out from her back . . . and came sailing up from the surface of the asteroid. A score of flames burst out from the backs of Dagenham's men as they followed. Half a dozen dropped the pursuit of Jisbella and came up after the Weekender.

«It's going to be close, Gully,» Jisbella was gasping now, but her voice was still steady. «Dagenham's ship came down on the other side, but they've probably signaled him by now and he'll be on his way. Hold your position, Gully. About ten seconds now. . .»

The hornets closed in and engulfed the tiny white suit.

«Foyle! Can you hear me? Foyle!» Dagenham's voice came in fuzzily and finally cleared. «This is Dagenham calling on your band. Come in, Foyle!»

«Jiz! Jiz! Can you get clear of them?»

«Hold your position, Gully. . . There she goes! It's a hole in one, son!» A crushing shock racked the Weekender as the safe, moving slowly but massively, rammed into themain hatch. At the same moment the white suited figure broke out of the cluster of yellow wasps. It came rocketing up to the Weekender, hotly pursued.