Part 10 (2/2)

The SS man's mind rocketed swiftly. What was he to do? He didn't want a murder done, but neither did he want this man killed nor jailed--at least not until he had learned a great deal more concerning him and his part in or knowledge of that ”plot” on Simonides that Hanlon and the Corps were trying so desperately to solve.

”I've got to learn to consider mighty carefully all the angles about even the most apparently-insignificant things,” he thought carefully. ”I can't take chances of gumming things up, but on the other hand, I want to get an 'in' with that gang if I can.”

A possibility occurred to the young agent--and he quailed a bit, then grinned wolfishly at the thought. It was plenty dangerous, but if he could put it over maybe it would give him that ”in” he needed.

He hurried his steps and caught up with the big man just as the latter was stopping momentarily to peer cautiously around the corner and down a corridor which, Hanlon could read in his mind, led to the victim's stateroom.

Hanlon tapped the man on the shoulder, and as the fellow whirled, a snarl on his face, Hanlon stepped backward a pace and held up his hands in the ”I'm not armed” gesture. Then, before Panek could speak, he stepped closer to whisper.

But the thug was both angry and frustrated at the spoiling of his carefully-worked-out plan, and in no mood for conversation. That lethal knife seemed to jump out of his sleeve and toward Hanlon, in the strong, swift, practiced hand of the killer.

The SS man jumped backward, then his own hands darted out and grabbed for the other's wrists in the manner he had been taught. He caught the right, or knife hand, but the big fellow was as dextrous as he, even if he didn't look capable of such fast action. His other hand eluded Hanlon's grasp, and with it Panek struck and jabbed--heavy blows to Hanlon's face and body.

Hanlon parried the blows as best he could, at the same time trying to make his low-voiced words penetrate.

”Cut it out, you fool! I'm trying to help you, not hinder you! Stop it, blast you, and listen!”

But he might as well have been talking to the metal walls. One eye was swelling rapidly, and he had a nick in his arm that he could feel was soaking his jacket sleeve. Seeing he couldn't make the fellow listen, Hanlon threw him with a super-judo trick, then sat on him.

”Shut up and listen to me, Panek!” he hissed urgently, using all his fighting technique meanwhile to keep the other's thres.h.i.+ng form immobile. ”I'm trying to warn you that the bozo you're after carries one of those new needle-guns, and the needles are poison-tipped. Also, he's the fastest man on the draw I've ever seen--I watched him practice. Just one of those needles and you'd be kaput before you could yell.”

”Why ... how ... what d'you mean, huh, what d'you mean?”

The man stopped his struggles for the moment, while his face showed plainly how aghast he was at this interfering stranger's apparent knowledge of his intentions.

”Who are you, huh, and what's your game, what's your game?”

Hanlon made his voice seem both friendly and calculating, and hurried on with his specious explanation before the fellow should start fighting again.

”I'd been tipped off there was something up, on Simonides, where a good hustler could make himself plenty of credits. And credits in quant.i.ty is what I'm after ...”

”What's that got to do with me, huh, what has it?”

”... and I'm on my way there to see what my chances are of getting in on the game. So naturally I tried to learn all I could about it ahead of time. I was told this bird you're after was an important man there, so I studied him. One of the first things I found out about him was that he carried one of those needlers. If he's in your way, together we oughta be able to get rid of him ... but let's play it safe, eh?”

The stranger gave him a cold, calculating going-over with those hard, suspicious eyes. ”Let me up, Bub, let me up. I'll be good while we talk.”

Hanlon rose, but stood warily as the other slowly climbed to his feet.

But he wasn't sharp enough--Panek's hand flashed out even before he seemed to be standing erect, and slickly grabbed the wallet from the inside pocket of Hanlon's jacket.

But the SS man, seeing what the other was after, stood there without making any resistance.

”Take your time looking at 'em, Pal,” he said easily. ”I'm clean.

Strictly on my own in this. Just got kicked out of that snake's nest of a Corps school on Terra ...”

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