He had been a third of the way around the blockaded area when he discovered his first clue. He tried to run the barricade. The guard had his job to do. He saw only a hatless, wild-eyed young man with a sandy crew-cut, trying to commit suicide.

"Halt," he said.

"Have you seen a girl come out of here?" Chris said. "Golden-brown hair. Blue eyes. Blue suit. Black shoulder bag. Think!"

The guard shook his head. "Comin' out—no. Not more'n five hundred that meet that description, I'd say. Are you crazy or something? Say—there was one tried to get through here a minute ago that fits that description to a "T." I wouldn't let her in. The whole place is due to blow any minute, or didn't you know?"

"Trying to get in? But that wouldn't have been Camilla. Even a newspaperwoman would have better sense."

"She was nuts," the guard said. "She was crying and saying something about they couldn't blow up the Friendship Tower after this guy had worked so hard on it, and she was going to stop it."

"She got out and went back!" Chris said. "Good God! And it's only fifteen minutes to twelve. She must've gotten through somewhere."

"Somewhere, hell!" the guard said. "She got through here. She—"

"But I thought you said you wouldn't let her in?"

"She got past me. What you want me to do, shoot her in the back? You think I was going to run in there after her? You think—"

Christopher Berthold, who had never so much as shoved a fellow human being in his life, struck the guard with a large, enthusiastic fist, just over the left eye. The guard, unprepared, went down and stayed down. Chris took the squad car, parked at the curb, and roared off in the direction of the Tower. The guard said later that there had been a maniacal glint in his eye.

She had gotten through, all right. He saw her legs twinkling up those eighteen broad steps—one for every member planet and satellite nation of the Friendship Alliance. She was running.

It was exactly four minutes until twelve by his watch. He ran after her, sick with the knowledge that he must be too late.

There in the portal he caught her arm. Her cheeks were tear- and grime-streaked as she turned, startled, to face him. Her hair was 

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