Dayworld

"Much better. I'm glad it wasn't a sedative. J need to be on my toes."

"It perks you up for a while," Gaunt said. "But you have to pay the price later."

Dunski thought, There's always a price. What's the price for being an immer? Why do I ask that, stupid? I'm paying it now and am a long way off from paying all of the debt.

He rose, started toward the door again, stopped, gestured at the cylinder, and said, "Does she ...

"Yes, she does," Gaunt said. "I don't know about you, Dunski. You seem to have trouble accepting the inevitable. I can understand how you must feel, I think I can, anyway, but you're not showing immer quality."

"It just doesn't seem right," Dunski murmured.

"The right way is the best way. Go on now. Your wife will be waiting for you."

Dunski opened the door and turned for a last look. Gaunt was staring hard at him. The man's will was as hard as the bodies in the cylinders. He closed the door and went down the hall to the door. Opening it, he was wetted by the rain. He stepped back in and took from the bag a yellow roll no longer or thi

Clad in the raincoat, he stepped out into the fierce downpour. The street was deserted except for a bicyclist pedaling madly, bent over, the wheels splashing water. From far off, thunder rumbled, and lightning coursed through the dark western mass like the shining arteries of a god.

He did not have to go home at once. Rupert should be safe. Gaunt would not like his orders disobeyed, but what could he do? Not much if he, Jim Dunski, did nothing but hang around for a while here and then take his time going home. If he did what was so raging, though so vague, in his mind, he would suffer severe punishment. Perhaps, Gaunt might arrange an accident for him and so dispose of him. That, however, would cause a chain of problems for the immers. If Dunski disappeared or was killed, then Caird, Tingle, Repp, Ohm, Zurvan, and Isharashvili would also disappear.

The seven roles had put him in danger. On the other hand, they were insurance of a sort against the immers' turning against him. If the situation became desperate, though, the immers could cancel his policy and take their chances.

Chapter 18

Jim Dunski stood for a while and wondered what he would do, what he should do, when the second of decision came. He could walk away and leave Snick to die. Or he could try to rescue her. Logic, self-survival, and common sense urged him to leave here as quickly as possible. His horror at the concept of murder and his vision of Snick being murdered-no concept- this, but a vividly red image-rooted him.

Do the ends justify the means? That was an ancient question that had only one answer if you had a heart.

But if he did what was right, then he was wrong.

"I should have thought of this when I swore utter loyalty forever," he muttered. A little later, he said, "But it's not like I'm turning them in, exposing them. If I just get her away, somehow, and hide her, all of us immers will still be safe."

At that moment, he knew that he was not going to let Gaunt kill her. Not if he could help it. He did have a plan to do this, though it was wild and could easily go awry. Read for awry, his death.

He looked up and down the street. The two whom Gaunt had said would be watching him were not in sight. No doubt, they could see him. If Castor appeared, they would close in and kill him, though they might be too late to save their fellow immer, himself. For all he knew, Gaunt had decided that he should be the sacrificial victim, the throwaway decoy.

No. Gaunt would not wish Dunski to die in these circumstances. He would want a well-pla

The rain fell heavily as he walked. Behind him, thunder and lightning came nearer as if they were stalking him. He stopped at the corner of Jones and Seventh and looked up and down the broad avenue. There were no pedestrians or bicyclers, and the car traffic was much lighter than usual. Two taxis, a government limousine, and an organic patrol car. The latter was cruising at five miles an hour, its headlights on, its two occupants rain-blurry behind the windshield. They did not seem to have looked at the lone man in the yellow hood and coat.

The storm was what Gaunt should have asked for. It was blocking the sky-eyes and removing possible witnesses from the streets. Even people looking out their windows would be half-blinded.

Presently, a white van with black zebra stripes appeared north on Seventh, two blocks away. There were three thousand such in Manhattan, all vehicles of the State Cleaning Corps of all days. It slowed at the light and eased through on the yellow. Dunski was not surprised when it turned onto Jones Street. The SCC van could stop at the apartment, its corpspersons could enter the building and come out with a large package or a cart filled with something concealed by a tarpaulin, and no one would be suspicious. Any watcher might commend the Corps for doing its duty in such bad weather.

He turned to watch the van do just what he thought it would. Two men in the uniform of Thursday's SCC, green trousers with belibottom cuffs and loose scarlet coats, got out of the van. One opened the rear doors; the other reached in and pulled out a folding cart. They stood before the door a few seconds, waiting for Gaunt to identify them on the strip. As soon as they had disappeared into the building, Dunski walked slowly down the long block toward the van. i1e looked across the street at the building opposite. It was one of the modern boat-shaped structures with a large yard with many trees and bushes. He spotted a dark figure standing in a doorway under the overhang of the building. That must be one of his guards.

The watcher was probably wondering why he had not started for home. He might be asking questions of Gaunt now via radio. And where was the other guard? If he was in the bushes or behind a tree, he was well hidden.

Other than the man in the doorway, the only person visible was a bicyclist who had just turned off West Fourth onto Jones Street. Through the driving rain, Dunski could see a figure in a dark raincoat and wide-brimmed rainhat, bent over, his face hidden, his legs moving hard as he drove the bicycle through the now inch-deep water. Dunski slowed even more. He should have waited a little longer. The two pseudo-SCC-men would take about three minutes to go inside, load Snick into the unfolded cart, get back to the van, and load her in. Unless Gaunt delayed them with more instructions.

Dunski did not want to arrive too soon. He should get to the van just after the two had stored their hard burden inside it. Before they closed and locked the door.

"I'm doing it," he thought. "I'm crazy, but I'm doing it." He stopped and waited. He cursed. It wouldn't work. The man in the doorway of the building across the street would radio Gaunt, and Gaunt would come out with the two men to find out what was happening. Or he might have them stay inside until he found out why Dunski was loitering there. Or he might send one man out to do that.

"I'll improvise," he muttered.

The door to the building swung open. One of the men backed out, pulling on the now-unfolded cart. Dunski waited until both were out, the cart between them. He started walk- ing. The man in the doorway of the building across the street had stepped out into driving rain. He hesitated as if he were wondering what he should do. Then he broke into a run on the sidewalk through the yard, and he began shouting.

At the same time, another man lunged out from a cluster of bushes. He was carrying something dark in his right hand. A gun. By then the other immer had his gun out. Dunski swore again. He did not want to murder while trying to prevent a murder.