Staring upward, he gave Crandall the high sign. The old privateer helped Halley position herself to slip through the hole. She swarmed down the rope, and then took up station on the opposite end of the balcony. Malvor Reese was next, followed finally by Ross Crandall.

"Everyone all right?" Sands whispered. When he received three answers in the affirmative, he gestured for them to move toward the large picture windows that separated the living quarters from the balcony.

The diagram Micah Bolin had shown them placed Dalishaar's bedroom on the other side of the tower, far enough distant that he should not have heard the sounds they had made.

At Sands's signal, Reese moved forward to check whether the door was locked. He had barely touched the frame when a harsh light flooded the balcony, pinning each of them where they crouched.

"Stand up! You are each the target of half a dozen rifles."

Sands, who was still behind the table, got slowly to his feet and raised both hands. The others followed his example. Within seconds, the doors opened and the balcony was awash with Alliance Marines. An officer in full battle gear strode out to gaze at them. His shoulder tabs identified him as a colonel.

"Which one of you is the leader of this little band?"

"I am," Sands replied, his voice curiously flat as it issued from his suit's external speaker. His words were being fed into his suit's computer, which substituted electronically generated speech. That way it would be impossible for anyone to identify him later via voiceprints.

"Drop your weapons!"

"We have no weapons," Sands said, mildly. "Only tools."

The colonel seemed not to know how to respond to the claim. A team of unarmed assassins did not fit his preconceptions. Finally, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"This is a raid."

"You must be joking! No one raids the Alliance!"

"Precisely why we chose you," Sands replied. "Please inform your leaders that we've rigged a kilometer of pyrotechnic tape and a radio detonator to Cloudcroft's gas bag. If we are attacked or any attempt is made to thwart us, we will set it off. If our ship does not hear from us within a specified time, they will detonate the bomb remotely. The detonator will also explode if anyone tampers with it. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

The colonel suddenly turned ashen. "I'll have to communicate with my superiors."

"Naturally," Sands replied. "While you are doing so, please tell First Councilor Dalishaar that I require him to come here in person. He has five minutes to comply."

The next few minutes were confused. The four raiders stood in the midst of a milling group of armed enemies, most of who seemed undecided as to what to do. Lars waited patiently; sure that nothing would happen until the Alliance rulers verified his claim. He knew they had done so when the Marines began to filter back into the apartment. They left only the colonel and four of their number behind.Seconds after that, a man in slippers and an ornate dressing gown appeared. He was overweight, with small eyes set close together in his pudgy face. His hair was thinning, and at the moment, uncombed.

"I am Kelt Dalishaar. How do I know you've attached a bomb to Cloudcroft?"

"You have already verified it," Lars responded, "or else you wouldn't have come here."

"We've searched the top of the gas bag with cameras. We see four irregularly shaped splotches."

"Those are our flight wings. The tape is invisible at night. You'll be able to see it when the sun comes up."

"In the meantime we're supposed to take you at your word?"

"Unless you want your city blasted out of the sky. How long do you think you can stay aloft with a one kilometer rip in your gas bag?"

"Not long," the first councilor admitted. "How do we know you won't take what you want and then set off your bomb anyway?"

"You don't. You'll just have to hope that we're honest."

"Right Since I don't appear to have any choice in the matter..."

"None at all," Sands replied. He put all the menace he could into the statement, but once again, electronics robbed his voice of its overtones. Still, he hoped the Alliance rulers would play it safe. He was lying. He had no intention of sending a city of 300,000 plummeting into the depths. He hoped fervently that no one would risk calling his bluff.

"What do you want of us?" Dalishaar asked simply. If he were terrified, he hid it well. Sands could see the calculation going on behind those eyes. Bolin had warned him the first councilor was clever.

"I want you to alert all security forces within the city. They are to cooperate fully. That means opening all vaults and assisting in loading our ships when they get here. Please remember that our detonator will be active for several hours after we are gone. If we find we've been crossed, I won't hesitate to split this city wide open."

"You will have our cooperation."

"Excellent. Now then, two of my people will go down to your landing bay to prepare to receive our ships. They have lists of commodities we will be taking away with us. Get your people to work gathering them up."

"Colonel, you heard the man! See to it."

"Yes, sir."

"Three and Four, go with him! Two, you stay with me."

Crandall and Reese followed the colonel through the open doorway and out into the hall. They entered a lift and were whisked to the heart of the city. As soon as they were gone, Larson Sands felt a tinge of loneliness. They were four people running a colossal bluff in a sea of enemies. All that was required to ruin everything was one fool whose bravery exceeded his intelligence.

"You will guide us someplace where I can contact our ships. You had best hurry. The deadline for checking in has very nearly expired. Also, I want to be able to oversee operations in the landing bays.""Follow me," the first councilor said. As Sands followed him, he could not help thinking how ridiculous Dalishaar looked in his slippers and robe.

They were led to the first councilor's personal office. Sitting on top of the oversize desk was a phone, a holoscreen, and a computer terminal. Sands strode to the high back chair and used the phone to send the prearranged signal that would alertSparrowHawk to their safe arrival. The screen cleared a moment later and he found himself staring at Brent Garvich and Hume Bailey. Like Sands, they were encased in environment suits to hide their identities.

"We're in control here," Sands told Garvich. "Notify the others and then come running."

"We're on our way. See you in ten minutes."

The screen went blank and Sands turned to Dalishaar. "All right, now I want to see the landing bays."

"I'll have to unlock the surveillance system."

"Do so."

Dalishaar reached over his shoulder and quickly typed a series of twenty characters into the computer keyboard. As with most computer security systems, the password was input manually to prevent eavesdropping. The screen lit with a series of questions. These Dalishaar answered verbally. At the end of the series, he turned to Sands.

"You are connected to the city computer with unlimited privileges. Simply state your wishes and it will do its best to comply."

"Computer. General view of Landing Bay..."

"Six," Dalishaar prompted. "That is the main bay and the one where I presume you want your ship taken aboard."

"General view of Landing Bay Six," Sands repeated.

The screen cleared to show a view from high above a large cavernous compartment. A group of people milled around in the middle of the compartment. Two of them were clothed in environment suits.

"Hello, Three," Sands said into his suit radio. "I've got you on screen."

"Here, One," came the reply from Ross Crandall. On the screen, one of the figures waved an arm.

"The ship is on its way. Have you given them your list yet?"

"I have. They're opening the vaults now."

"Keep this circuit live. If they even look at you funny, report it to me immediately."

"Aye aye, One."

Sands ordered the computer to keep Crandall in sight as he directed his retinue to various storerooms and vaults. He was working from the list of valuables provided by Micah Bolin. By the time Crandall and Reese finished inspecting the third storeroom, it was obvious that Bolin's information was uncannily accurate. Sands wondered again where Bolin had obtained his data. From the look on Dalishaar's face,he was obviously wondering the same thing.

As he finished looking over each vault or storeroom, Crandall detailed several of the locals to begin moving the most valuable items to the landing bay. One storeroom contained pharmaceuticals worth their weight in iridium. Another was filled with electronic modules used in safety-critical city systems, and therefore, highly saleable anywhere on Saturn. Yet, another was filled with long planks grown in one of the cities specializing in wood production. These alone would bring several megacredits on the black market.

The cataloging of goods was halted by the arrival ofSparrowHawk . Sands watched the entire operation from Dalishaar's office, intent for signs of treachery. There were none. The Alliance technicians handled the ship with the same care they would have given the first councilor's yacht. The landing bay was a vast open space that dwarfed the fusion-powered aircraft. Yet, even this would be too small for Bolin's airships when they arrived. These would be serviced via a loading bridge extending outward from the city support truss.

"Number Two, take over here," Sands ordered Halley onceSparrowHawk was safely aboard. "If you see anything suspicious, notify me immediately. First Councilor, I would like a personally conducted tour of this facility."

"Why?"

"To see what might be worth taking, of course. Also, I have a list of art objects from your museum I want delivered to the landing bay." He fished the prepared list out of his pouch and handed it to Dalishaar.

The first councilor's scowl deepened as he scanned the list. Even though the artwork would be virtually impossible to fence, its loss would infuriate the Alliance rulers in a way high value industrial goods never would. Hopefully, their fury would heighten the intensity of their recriminations.

"Any problem?"

"None," Dalishaar responded through clenched teeth. He handed the list to one of his subordinates and ordered him to take care of it. He turned to Sands and asked, "Where would you like to begin your tour?"

"The city computer."

Cloudcroft was typical of most Saturnian cities in that the city computer was located within the seat of government. Indeed, as far as much of the citizenry was concerned, the computerwas the government.

On the way to the computer center, Sands recognized two paintings hanging in corridors as having been done by Old Masters. One was a Smithson from the twenty-first century, the other a twentieth century Warhol. Sands ordered them taken down and delivered to the landing bay. He did the same for two vases that might (or might not) have been ancient Chinese.

The computer center was a large, well-lighted place where white-coated acolytes serviced the big machine that ran the city. The chief technician hurried toward them with a cluck of disapproval as Sands, the first councilor, and three Marines pushed past a series of signs forbidding entry to all but authorized personnel.

"You shouldn't be here, First Councilor."

Dalishaar explained the situation in a few well-chosen words that caused the computerist to turn a brightcrimson. After that, Sands asked, "Where do you keep your archival copies?"

"We send them over to Murphiston."

"What's that?"

"Another Alliance city. If we were to have a major computer failure, they can get the archives back to us in a matter of an hour or so."

"You don't keep copies here?"

The computerist hesitated for a long moment until Dalishaar growled, "Tell him, Alver. It isn't worth destroying Cloudcroft over."

"Ah, we have working copies here, of course."

"Where?"

"Behind that door."

"Open it."

The computerist opened the door to reveal a data vault. Thousands of domino-sized memory tiles were arrayed in floor-to-ceiling racks. These were the archival copies of all information contained in the Cloudcroft city computer. Considering the storage capacity of a single memory tile, the magnitude of the recorded information was staggering.

Sands made a show of scooping up an empty wastebasket into which he then began loading tiles. He carefully compared the file numbers of the tiles with a list from his pouch before putting them into the basket. Despite his apparent care, the list was a fake. He was working entirely at random. Like the theft of Cloudcroft's artworks, his actions were intended to sow suspicion and mistrust in the enemy ranks.

Mixed among the mundane records that clutter any city computer are a great many valuable secrets. The trick is to find them. Had he taken the entire computer archive, it would have been the work of centuries deciphering all the security-coded information. By appearing to take specific tiles, Sands was giving the impression he was after specific pieces of information. The Alliance rulers would naturally review what he had taken, looking for clues to his identity. Since there was no real significance to his acquisitions, he hoped he was giving them a headache from which it would take months to recover.

Sands removed a small net bag from his pouch and poured his ersatz treasure into it. He then clipped the bag of tiles to his equipment belt and ordered the Marines to dump the remaining archives on the floor.

The rest of their exploration of Government Tower proved anticlimactic. It was getting time for the airships to join them when Sands called the charade off. They were returning to Dalishaar's office when they encountered two guards in a corridor.

"What's in here?" Sands asked, gesturing toward the nondescript doorway the guards flanked.

"VIP quarters," the first councilor replied. "They are currently occupied by the head of the Titanian trade delegation."

"Open up."

"I assure you that there is nothing of value within.""I said open it!"

Dalishaar gestured abruptly to a member of their retinue, who moved forward and keyed a code into the door lock. The door slid open to reveal two more guards inside.

"Get out," Dalishaar ordered sharply. The two did as they were told. The first councilor stepped back and gestured for Sands to enter.

Sands did so. Seated on the couch, staring at him with a surprised look on her face, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Chapter 7: To Loot A City.

"Who are you, Citizen?" Sands asked as the woman climbed to her feet. She was tall; with a heart shaped face framed by hair as black as space. Her green eyes flicked back and forth between him and the disheveled Kelt Dalishaar.

"My name is Kimber Crawford. My father is Envon Crawford, the Factor of Titan. I'm a prisoner here."

"Why?"

"The first councilor is trying to force my father into trade concessions. He's holding me and our entire delegation prisoner until my father agrees to his demands."