minutes. Ten minutes and four killings, and he hadn't even raised a sweat.

Darell and Karson and Dr. Lorence were waiting for him in the councilroom of the Government Building when he got back.

"Great work," Karson said. He looked pale and shaken. "We watched the whole thing over the transmitter Lorence built into you. Every step. It—it was well done."

"Thanks," Jack said. "Is the gold ready?"

Lorence handed him a heavy satchel. "It's here. Twenty-five pounds. Plus five pounds extra for your cooperation."

"Thanks again," Jack said. "Glad to be of help." He didn't mention the moments when he wavered, when he had nearly gone over to Lugert's side—probably would have if it hadn't been for the generator planted in his arm.

He wondered briefly how it would have been, living here with all these quiet philosophical types.

He said, "I suppose you're going to send me back to my own time now."

Lorence nodded.

The four of them went to Lorence's office and Jack climbed back into the elaborate harness.

Lorence bustled around him, making adjustments carefully. "We want to gauge this thing to the minute, you know," he explained. "No mistakes."

"I appreciate the care," Jack said. He held tightly to his satchel.

"We owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude," Karson said. "A debt that no satchel of gold could ever repay. You've done us a great service. You're a hero, Jack. A savior of humanity. We'd never have beaten Lugert without you."

"Ready to go," Lorence said. He threw the switch.

Time began to swirl around the killer from the past. As 2531 started to fade away from him he grinned for the last time and said, "Imagine that. Me, a hero! I like that, Me, John Dillinger—a savior of humanity!"

And then he was gone.

 Prev. P 8/8