* * * * *
Suddenly Newlin disliked his errand. Even more, he disliked himself. For a brittle moment, he was moved to turn back, refuse to carry out a bargain he now regretted. Killing for pay, at the whim of a jealous or scorned woman, was too ugly even for his calloused morality.
"Preferably dead?" he asked thinly.
"Preferably alive," Songeen murmured. "You would not understand, of course. It is because I love him. He will not come, but he must have the chance. And I must send a stranger to kill him, because he has--forgotten."
Newlin stiffened angrily. He was on the point of rejecting the girl and her project when a battery of lights moved toward them from the winding lanes of the Park. Too well he knew what they meant.
As the wealthiest district of Venusport, Monta Park was smug, respectable, luxurious--and protected. Roving radio-patrols of Protection Police--privately hired thugs--guarded its dwellers and their possessions. A pro