“Good evening from thirty-three news update. This is a picture of Eric Abbott, a resident of New River, Arizona, NAT, who is believed to be at large in the city and is wanted on several charges by the authorities. Abbott is believed responsible for the recent disturbance at a luxury East Side codo complex. He is considered armed and dangerous.

“Any citizen who thinks he or she may have seen this man is urged to contact metropolitan police immediately. In other news tonight, the Japanese Emperor announced a doubling of Prosperity Sphere rice exports to …”

Eric didn’t hear the rest. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he turned in his chair until he was facing away from the center of the bar. Few customers appeared to have paid any attention to the opto announcement.

Was the picture old enough to permit his continued use of the public walkways? There were more lines in his face now. He’d worn a beard in the old days but that was no help: the police computer had wiped it for the broadcast.

He forced himself to finish his brandy, then exited without comment. It was starting to drizzle again and he was still without umbrella or raincoat. An umbrella would be better. It could help hide his face.

It was easy to find a lower-class hotel, midtown and away from the rivers. He paid for the night in cash. Once inside he double-locked the door and spent several tedious hours under a bright lamp altering his credit card again. Only when his latest identity was safely in place did he let himself lie down.

He slept much better than he’d expected to. Exhaustion overcame his anxiety. Whatever had helped him escape Lisa’s building did not let him off without making any demands on his body.

When he finally awoke it was midday. Using the directory in the optophoné, he located the type of store he needed. It wasn’t a long way off. Little was, in Nueva York. Avoiding the come-ons of the cabs, he walked the necessary half-mile.

The proprietor was most helpful, and Eric soon returned to his room. No one confronted him, but he knew he had to do something. Citizen indifference wouldn’t protect him forever. Sooner or later some zealot would recognize him from the repeated publication of his portrait and point him out to the police.

The spirit gum was hard to work with and he found himself wishing he’d spent more time in company amateur theatricals. At last he had the moustache in place. Then he worked the bleach through his head until he was a nice Nordic blonde. Putty would have altered his entire face, but he chose not to chance it. He had no experience with such materials, and a badly done false nose would draw more attention than his real one.

He found a barber to cut his newly bleached hair. When he finally glimpsed himself in a mirror, it was still the face of Eric Abbott that stared back at him … but only on close inspection. He was satisfied.

Thoughts of how to regain contact with Lisa occupied him for the rest of the day. It was not enough to see her anymore. Somehow he had to get her away from her gilded prison.

The fecund streets of the city led him to an amateur astronomy shop. Shelves were filled with everything from miniature radio telescopes for eavesdropping on Orion to thick books pinpointing meteor impact sites.

“Can I sell you something?” asked the hopeful man behind the counter.

“I need a telescope.”

“I see. What kind, sir?”

“Something small and compact.”

The man nodded as though he dealt with such requests every day. He probably did, Eric mused, but from customers with different intentions.

“Something that would fit easily inside your coat pocket?”

“That would be nice.” Eric added what he hoped would pass for a nervous smile.

“Going to gaze at some heavenly bodies?” The man winked.

Eric hesitated before responding, but the salesman seemed more understanding than accusative.

“Something like that.”

“I understand It’s your business, of course. I’m required by city law to inform you that it’s a municipal felony if you’re caught within city limits pointing a telescope anywhere at an angle of less than sixty degrees.”

“I follow you.”

“Fine.” The man turned and caressed a cabinet with a magnetic key, began searching exposed shelves. He brought out a collapsing tube of dark alloy only an inch in diameter.

“Here you are, sir, just the thing. Very light, nonreflective body, folding optics, electronically enhanced to one twenty-eight power.”

“Sounds like it should do nicely.” Eric inspected it as if he knew what he was looking for.

“Now if you plan on doing some really strenuous observing,” the salesman said as he produced a much larger tube with a second, narrower cylinder straddling its back, “this Quelmar has ten times the resolving power together with an integrated violet laser spotting scope attached. The laser is, of course, undetectable in normal nighttime usage.

“It will also,” he added sotto voce, “take a standard camera adapter.”

“That’s all right,” Eric assured him. “I prefer the smaller model.”

“As you wish.” The salesman hid his disappointment at not selling the much more expensive unit. “That’ll be twenty-nine ninety-five please, plus taxes.” Eric paid him in cash and walked out with the telescope folded to thumb-size inside his coat pocket.

Using his re-altered card he splurged on a relaxed dinner. It was the best meal he’d enjoyed since leaving Phoenix. In a theater he sat and watched the holofilm until he couldn’t stand it anymore (the waiting, not the film), then rose and paced the streets until near midnight.

Witching hour, he thought. That seemed appropriate. He wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he’d suddenly turned into a pumpkin.

As he entered Lisa’s neighborhood he began to move with greater caution, keeping to the shadows and avoiding late-night pedestrians without drawing attention to himself. It was raining again, and the umbrella he’d purchased did indeed conceal his face.

There didn’t appear to be any extraordinary concentration of police vehicles cruising the vicinity of the East River codos. That made sense. They wouldn’t want to frighten him off if he was stupid enough to return. He had no intention of trying to enter Lisa’s tower. Maybe his actions were foolhardy, but they weren’t blindly dumb.

It would have been impossible had her codo faced directly onto the river. Fortunately it was angled to provide a view of the city as well as the water.

The codo tower one half-block downriver boasted an electronic doorwatch similar to the one in Lisa’s building, except that the voice was feminine and the sculptured grille in the lobby more modern. He used a different ploy to fool the voice and gain admittance to the elevator bay.

I’m becoming quite an accomplished break-in artist, he told himself ironically.

As he rose upward he considered the profusion of shadowy figures he’d counted working the grounds around Lisa’s tower. Gardeners and laborers, electricians and strolling lovers, none of whom seemed to pay any attention to each other. The gardeners looked up too frequently from their bushes, the lovers spent too much time glancing sideways instead of at each other. Eric was sure they were all waiting for him to put in an appearance.

He had every intention of disappointing them.

The elevator finally slowed to a stop. This tower was several stories taller than Lisa’s. The security lock atop the service stairway yielded to his probes and he tried not to run as he emerged into the cool air.

XII

Three stories of heating and air-conditioning equipment towered above him, throbbing softly to itself. The dark gray mass was alive with clicking service panels and bright warning lights. Everything was functioning as intended, and there were no signs of wandering service technicians.

He took no chances—kept to the dark places as he made his way silently to the edge of the roof. When he reached the fence he dropped to his belly. No telling when some searcher on the ground might idly play his seeker beam over the tops of the surrounding skyscrapers.

Taking the compact telescope from his pocket, he extended it to its full length and stuck it through the wire mesh of the fence. Ninety stories below, the sounds of the city were muted and weak. The location of Lisa’s codo was imprinted permanently on his brain, and he had no trouble picking it out.

The little scope was all that its seller had claimed. It provided a fine view of the porch and the high transparent windows behind. The glass had been replaced with admirable speed. Unfortunately, all the curtains were pulled. He cursed himself silently for forgetting that possibility.

Lights showed behind the curtains. Once or twice he thought he could see a shape moving against the light, a faint silhouette of uncertain outline. He watched for over an hour. The lights stayed on. Someone beside himself was losing sleep.

River mist chilled him. She was there all right. The key question was whether or not she had company, and if so, how closely she was being watched. If she had freedom to move about her own rooms, he might be able to get in touch with her just long enough.

Folding the telescope, he put it back in his pocket and stood, then commenced an inspection of his surroundings. It didn’t take long to find the service bay he was after. Once more a lock yielded to his tools.