“We ought to do something,” I had said.

  “No” was her quick response.

  “I think we owe him something—or at least you do.”

  “Nonsense. A grown man makes his own decisions.”

  “Yes, of course. I still want to find out where they have sent him.”

  When I had tracked him down and discovered the secret location of Terminal Penitentiary, I told Angelina of my plan. Her eyes narrowed as I spoke, her face grew grim. When I had finished speaking she nodded slowly.

  “Do it, Jim. It is dangerous and looks suicidal—but you are probably the only man in the galaxy who could pull it off. With my help, of course.”

  “Of course. Your first task will be to find a bent but professionally competent doctor.”

  “Not a problem. Did you ever hear of a doctor—or a lawyer—bent or not, who could resist the continual flutter of bank notes onto a tabletop?”

  “Now that you mention it—no. How is our expense account?”

  “Running a little low. We could use a few million more. Why don’t you knock off a really juicy bank while I line up the medic.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  But almost a year went by before the preparations were complete. There would be no rushing in, guessing or taking chances. Because if every detail were not worked out to the last decimal point I was going to be spending an awful lot of time behind bars.

  Angelina came to pick me up at the clinic—and recoiled in horror.

  “Jim—you look awful!”

  “Thank you. It was quite an effort. Losing weight was easy enough, as well as skin aging, hair dyeing, all the usual things. It’s the muscles I miss the most.”

  “Me too. Your gorgeous figure—”

  “Wasted away with enzymes. No choice. If I am going to pass for an ancient crock I have to look like one. Don’t worry, a few months of bodybuilding when this is over and I’ll be as good as new.”

  A tear glistened in her eyes and she gave me a warm hug. “And you’re doing this for me.”

  “Of course. But for him as well—and for Jim diGriz so I can look at myself in the mirror. Not that I really want to just now.”

  And that had been that. Pulling off an inept jewel robbery and getting nicked had been the easy part. I just made sure that the crime was committed on Heliotrope-2, the site of the original news report that had started this entire thing rolling.

  It had rolled well. Here I was in Purgy and I had one week to acquaint myself with the layout, the alarms and videoscanners, before the operation went into phase two. It was time well spent. At breakfast next morning I looked around at all the bald heads and gray polls of my fellow inmates and found him at once. And stayed away. Time enough to renew an old acquaintance at the proper moment. As I spooned up the purple gruel I took everything in. And started with surprise.

  Could it be him? Yes, it was. His hair was white now, his face tracked with countless wrinkles. But after two months together in an ice cave—well, there are things you just don’t forget. I followed him after we had dumped our trays, sat down next to him in the morning room.

  “Been here long, Burin?” I asked.

  He turned his head and blinked at me nearsightedly—then his face lit up with a smile.

  “Jimmy diGriz as I live and breathe!”

  “And I’m most glad that you are living and breathing! Burin Bache, the best forger in the history of the galaxy.”

  “Kind of you to say that, Jimmy. And it was true at one time. Not lately—” The smile faded and I quickly put my arm around him.

  “Do you still get chilblains in your ankles?”

  “You bet I do! You know—I still can’t put ice into a drink. Hate the sight of it.”

  “Yes, but the ice cave was only a hiccup… .”

  “Some hiccup! But you’re right there, Jimmy me lad. After what we hauled down on that job I didn’t have to work for ten years. You were young but you were a genius. Hate to see you ending up here like me. Never thought they would get you.”

  “Happens to the best of us.”

  As I spoke I had my stilo concealed in my cupped hands, printing a quick message on my palm. Then I rubbed my chin with the back of my hand and waited until Burin had looked at it, his eyes widening.

  “Got to go now,” I said as I blurred the message with a saliva-dampened fingertip. “See you around.”

  He could only nod shocked and silent agreement as I left. I couldn’t blame him. Since his incarceration I am sure he never thought he would ever read those words.

  WE’RE GETTING OUT OF HERE.

  The immense bribe that Angelina had paid to the city official had been well worth it. The building permission floorplans had not been complete—but they sufficed. I got close to the room we had selected on the second day, stuffed my stilo into the keyhole on the third. After being held in my armpit for an hour, the memory plastic of which it was made had softened to the consistency of clay. A moment after being pressed against the cold metal it had hardened into a perfect mirror image of the lock’s innards.

  We were permitted an hour in the garden every day and I had found a bench that was well away from any sites that might have held videoscanners. I sat there, apparently dozing over an open book. You would have to stand very close to see what I was doing.

  That morning I had stripped off part of the plastic covering of my battered wallet. And chewed it well. It had not tasted as bad as some of the meals we had consumed. It had reacted with my saliva and had softened to a nice doughy consistency. And had remained that way in the darkness of my pocket. Now I pressed it against the mold of the lock’s interior. It should be shaped to duplicate the key that would open it. When I was satisfied with the effort I held the plastic in the warm sunshine. The catalyst it contained reacted with the light and it hardened instantly.

  Logically I should have waited for the right moment to try to open that door. But I had to make a dry run. Get any problems out of the way so I could move quickly and smoothly at the decided time.

  Burin was more than happy to help. We synchronized watches and at the precise moment I reached the door he stumbled and fell onto the table where the card game was in progress. There was a great crashing, shouts of anger and dismay as I slipped the homemade key into the keyhole. Turned and pressed.

  Nothing happened. I took a deep breath, held it—then used every iota of skill acquired during a lifetime of lockpicking.

  It grated slightly—and the door opened.

  I was through in an instant, closing and locking it behind me. Listening for footsteps, shouts of alarm.

  Nothing. Only then did I look around me. I was in a small storeroom piled high with reams of paper and mounds of forms so dear to the bureaucratic heart. There was enough light from the small window to see clearly. I memorized the layout of the room, then moved one box that blocked a direct path. Enough. Time to go. I was too close to D Day, H Hour, M Minute to get into any trouble now. Silence in the hall. Through the door, lock it, stroll back to the morning room, where a sort of antique fistfight was going on. I was sorry we had to spoil their game. No, I really wasn’t. Burin glanced in my direction and I flashed him a sort of conspiratorial wink, or tic, then passed on.

  Angelina and I had agreed on absolutely minimum contact this first meeting. And the timing was crucial. It had to be after dark for concealment—but not so late that we had been packed off beddy-byes. On the selected evening I was first through the door after dinner, stumbling swiftly in the direction of the heads. Past that door and up the stairs. I had cut it too close, only seconds left. Lock and relock the door, tread quickly the few steps along the memorized path—my watch ready in my hand.

  Grasped in both hands so I could draw the watch strap back and forth across the window lock with a quick sawing motion. This stripped away the surface plastic that covered the far harder plasteel of the flexible saw inside. It rasped noisily until there was a sharp click. I stuffed the watch into my pocket, seized the window, and pulled it open.

  Angelina, all in black, black gloves and blackened face, was outside. She pushed the package into my hands. Despite our agreement she could not resist a softly hissed “About time!” as I pushed the window shut.

  I retired at once, the bundle concealed in my clothing, pushed under the pillow as I got into bed. I left it there after I had worked the detector out of it.

  Soon after the lights were out I began to toss and turn.

  “Can’t sleep,” I moaned. “Insomnia and arthritis got me down. Groan.”

  I thrashed a bit longer, then rose and stumbled about the room rubbing my leg. Rubbing the controls on the detector as well with gratifying results. There was only a single detector over the door. Which left at least two blank spots in the room out of its field of view. A good night’s sleep was now in order, because there was plenty to do on the morrow.

  It was almost noon before I went looking for Burin Bache, sat down next to him in the sun porch. He raised his eyebrows quizzically but I did not respond until I had moved about a bit with the detector.

  “Great,” I said. “Just don’t talk too loud. Contact has been made.”

  “Then you have everything?” He was trembling with excitement.

  “Everything. Most of it hidden where they can’t find it. Let’s go out into the garden in exactly twelve minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because concealed in my mouth is an optical laser communicator.” I opened my lips to reveal the lens. “I can hear through my hard palate.”

  “Hear what?” He was mystified.

  “The dulcet tones of my dear Angelina, who even now is making her way to the upper floors of that office building that you can just see peeking over the wall in the distance. Untap-pable communication. Let’s go.”

  I leaned back in the deck chair and at the proper moment smiled in the direction of the distant building. My aim didn’t have to be too precise since she would have opened up a two-meter receiving lens.

  “Good morning, my love.”

  “Jim, I’m sorry we ever got involved with this insane plan,” her voice said squeakily through my head bones.

  “Only way out now is full steam ahead.”

  “I know that. And I didn’t enjoy climbing your building— even with molecular grappling gloves and boots.”

  “But you did it, my love. You are strong and skillful—”

  “If you dare add—for a woman of my age—I will skin you alive when you get out!”

  “The farthest thought from my mind. What I wanted to ask is—do you think we can take out two instead of one? I have found an old acquaintance here who, truthfully, saved my life once. In an ice cave. I’ll tell you about it one day. How about it?”

  She hesitated a moment and I could imagine her sweet little

  frown of concentration. My Angelina does not speak until she is certain.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll just have to change transportation.”

  “Good. If you are changing transportation make sure the vehicle is big enough.”

  “For four?”

  “Not really. What I had in mind was well, a figure a little closer to sixty-five… .”

  “Message breaking up. Repeat last. It came through as sixty-five.”

  “Right! Bang-on! That is correct!” I tried to sound cheerful and not smarmy. She was not fooled.

  “Don’t try it on, diGriz—I know you. Sixty-five—that must be every inmate there.”

  “Correct, my love. Exact number. I would suggest a tourist bus. I did this kind of thing once before and it worked. Locate the bus and I’ll get back to you same time tomorrow with more details. Must go—someone coming.” I clicked off. We were still unobserved but I wanted Angelina’s justified wrath to have twenty-four hours to cool before I talked to her again.

  “What happened?” Burin asked. “I could hear you mumble a bit, that’s all.”

  “Gears meshing like clockwork. Couldn’t be better. My dear wife is filled with wild enthusiasm for the plan. Particularly its new dimension.”

  “What—?”

  “Details later. Let’s go in to lunch now. Don’t drink the water.”

  “Why not?”

  “I tested it this morning. Laced with pacifiers, saltpeter and brain-scrambling drugs. That’s why the inmates mumble and stagger around so much. I think almost all of them are in far better shape than what we see.”

  Angelina’s anger had cooled when we talked the next day. More than cooled. Her voice, even vibrating buzzily through my ear bones, had a positive chill that brought back memory of the ice cave.

  “I have the bus. Bought legally. What else will I need?”

  “A bus driver’s uniform for yourself to explain your graceful presence behind the wheel. And, well—a few other items—”

  “Like what?” Temperature of liquid nitrogen. When I had dictated the list her voice was approaching absolute zero.

  “This is the most insane, harebrained, impossible plan that I have ever heard. I shall make every effort to see that it does not fail, that you are not injured and escape in one piece. So I can then personally kill you myself.”

  “My love—you jest.”

  “Try me.” She clicked off.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea. But now that I had started down this path I had to go all the way. For the first time I was more depressed than excited. Too much of the drinking water maybe. Then I remembered the medicine I had put into the bundle for just such a moment as this.

  Out of sight of the pickup above my door I opened the wall grate and removed the plastic bottle labeled danger—high explosive. In a way it was. One hundred and ten proof and twelve years in the barrel. My good humor returned in a surge.

  For six more days Angelina and I had our daily chat by laser. Formal and brief no matter how I tried to be friendly and crack the occasional joke. All this was ignored. My darling was in a temper. With good reason, I sighed. Only thing to do was get on with it.

  On the seventh day our conversation was most one-sided. She spoke a single word and disconnected. I turned off the transmitter with my tongue and turned to Burin—who looked much more alert now that he wasn’t drinking water with his meals.

  “The date is set.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll tell you after dinner.”

  He started to speak—then clamped his mouth shut. Appreciating the wisdom of my decision. The fewer that knew the less chance of any slipups. A maximum of one keeps a secret a secret.

  That evening when the rattle of spoons on metal had slowed and the slurping of the jellied gray dessert had replaced it, I took my tray into the kitchen, came out without it, and closed the door. Was watched by some of the slurpers with bleary-eyed interest as I slipped a tiny metal packet over the cable to the pickup on the wall.

  “May I have your attention,” I called out, hammering on the table with a spoon. I waited until the hum of voices had died down—then pointed to the side door.

  “We are all going to leave now by that side door. The gentleman who is now opening it, Burin Bache, is your guide. You will follow him.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the babble of voices. “You will shut up now and ask no questions. All will be revealed later. But I can tell you now that the authorities will definitely not like what we are going to do.”

  This drew nods of approval since every inmate was here because of flouting the law and thumbing the nose at authority. This, plus all the hypnotics in the drinking water, had them trooping out quietly following my orders. I stood by the door, smiling and patting an occasional shoulder as they went by, working hard not to show any impatience.

  With each passing minute there was a growing chance that the mass escape might be discovered. The kitchen staff and two guards were sleeping quietly in the storeroom; the wall pickup was transmitting a recording of happy diners munching away. And the two other doors were locked. That was the weak spot in the plan. Normally no one came into the dining area during a meal. But there were exceptions. I crossed my fingers behind my back hoping that this wasn’t one of the exceptional days.

  As the last bent shoulder moved by in front of me I sighed with relief, stepped through, and locked the door behind me. Followed my shuffling colleagues down the stairs to the service corridor, closing and locking each door after going through it. I did the same thing as we passed through the cellar, to the boiler room at the far end. The fire door here was heavier and slid closed with a satisfactory thud.

  I turned to look at my colleagues, wringing my hands with pleasure.

  “What’s happening?” one of them called out.

  “We are leaving here,” I looked at my watch, “In exactly seven minutes!”

  As might very well be imagined that caused no little stir. I listened to the voices then shouted them to silence.

  “No—I’m not mad. Nor am I as old as I look. I had myself arrested and incarcerated in this place for only one reason. To crack out. I will now pass through you, that’s it, move aside, thank you, to the far wall. You may or may not know that this prison is built on a hillside. Which means that while the other end of the building is deep in the earth and rock—this end is level with the road outside. Will you all kindly move to the far side of the room, that’s it. As you can see I am placing a shaped charge of macrothermite on the wall. When ignited this not only burns but penetrates and keeps on burning until it reaches the other side.”

  They watched in tense silence as I patted into place a rough circle of the doughy substance, then sprayed it with sealant and pushed in an igniter.

  “Push close together—get as far away as you can,” I ordered, looking at my watch. When there were five seconds to go I pushed the igniter button and hurried to join them.

  It was most dramatic. The igniter flared and a ring of fire sprang out from the wall. It crackled and flamed and smoked;there was a lot of coughing as the smoke spread and the vent fans labored to clear it. Then I pulled the hose from the reel and opened the valve to spray water on the wall. There were cries of fear and more serious coughing as clouds of steam added to the discomfort.