I think I can set up the killing with an old game called `Sardine.' It will give me the opportunity to get at D'Courtney, and I've figured out a trick to kill him; I know how to fire an antique explosive gun without bullets."
"Wait," Tate interrupted sharply. "How are you going to keep all this intent concealed from stray peepers? I can only screen you when I'm with you. I won't be with you all the time."
"I can work up a temporary mind-block. There's a song-writer down on Melody Lane I can swindle into helping me."
"It may work," Tate said after a moment's peeping. "But one thing occurs to me. Suppose D'Courtney is protected? Do you expect to shoot it out with bis body-guards?"
"No. I'm hoping it won't be necessary. A physiologist named Jordan has just developed visual knock-out drops for Monarch. We intended using it for strike riots. I'll use it on D'Courtney's guards."
"I see."
"You'll be working with me all along... doing reconnaissance and intelligence, but I need one piece of information first. When D'Courtney comes to town he's usually the guest of Maria Beaumont."
"The Gilt Corpse?"
"The same. I want you to find out if D'Courtney intends staying with her this trip. Everything depends on that."
"Easy enough. I can locate D'Courtney's destination and plans for you. There's to be a social gathering tonight at Lincoln Powell's house, D'Courtney's physician will probably be there. He's on Terra for a week's visit. I'll start the reconnaissance through him."
"And you're not afraid of Powell?"
Tate smiled contemptuously. "If I were, Mr. Reich, would I trust myself in this bargain with you? Make no mistake. I'm no Jerry Church."
"Church!"
"Yes. Don't act surprised. Church, the 2nd. He was kicked out of the Guild ten years ago for that little junket of his with you."
"Damn you.