the assembly hall was well filled, although harkway had made no special effort to advertise the meeting. he had known, cudyk thought, that rack's threat would be more than sufficient. the youngster was not stupid.

there were no women or children. ferguson was there, and a large contingent of his employees—gamblers, pimps, waiters and strong-arm men—as well as most of the russian population. all but a few of the chinese had stayed away, as had burgess. but a number of men whom cudyk knew to have m.p.l. leanings, and an even larger number of neutrals, were there. the audience was about evenly divided, for and against harkway. if he somehow came through this alive, it was just possible that he could swing the quarter his way. a futile victory; but of course harkway did not believe that.

there was a murmur and a shuffle of feet as rack entered with three other men—monk, the one called spider, and young tom de grasse, who had once been engaged to kathy burgess. the sound dropped almost to stillness for a few moments after the four men took seats at the side of the hall, then rose again to a steady rumble. harkway and seu had not yet appeared.

cudyk saw the man to his right getting up, moving away; he turned in time to see seu wedge himself through a gap in the line of chairs and sit down in the vacated place.

the fat man's face was blandly expressionless, but cudyk knew that something had happened. "what is it?" he asked.

seu's lips barely moved. he looked past cudyk, inspecting the crowd with polite interest. "i had him kidnapped," he said happily. "he's tied up, in a safe place. there won't be any meeting today."

seu had been seen. someone a few rows ahead called, "where's harkway, mayor?"

"i don't know," seu said blandly. "he told me he would meet me here—said he had an errand to do. probably he's on his way now."

under cover of the ensuing murmur, he turned to cudyk again. "i didn't want to do it," he said. "it will mean trouble, sooner or later; maybe almost as much trouble as if harkway had been killed. but i had to make a choice. do you think i did the right thing, laszlo?"

"yes," said cudyk, "except that i wish you had told me earlier."

seu smiled, his heavy face becoming for that instant open and confiding. "if i had, you wouldn't have been so sincere when you talked to harkway."

cudyk smiled in spite of himself. he relaxed in his chair, savoring the relief that had come when he'd learned that harkway was not going to die. the tension built up, day by day, almost imperceptibly, and it was a rare, fleeting pleasure when something happened to lower it.

he saw the mayor looking at his watch. the crowd was growing restless: in a few more minutes seu would get up and announce that the meeting was cancelled. then it would be all over.

seu was rising when a new wave of sound traveled over the audience. out of the corner of his eye cudyk saw men turning, standing up to see over the heads of their neighbors. seu spoke a single, sharp word, and his hand tightened on the back of his chair.

cudyk stood. someone was coming down the center aisle of the room, but he couldn't see who it was.

those who had stood earlier were sitting down now. down the aisle, looking straight ahead, with a bruised jaw and a bloody scratch running from cheekbone to chin, came james harkway.

he mounted the platform, rested both hands on the low speaker's stand, and turned his glance across the audience, once, from side to side. there was a collective scraping of chairs and clearing of throats, then complete stillness. harkway said:

"my friends—and enemies."

subdued laughter rippled across the room.

"a few of my enemies didn't want me to hold this meeting," said harkway. "some of my friends felt the same way. in fact, it seemed that nobody wanted this meeting to take place. but here you all are, just the same. and here i am."

he straightened. "why is that, i wonder? perhaps because regardless of our differences, we're all in the same boat—in a lifeboat." he nodded gravely. "yes, we're all in a lifeboat—all of us together, to live or die, and we don't know which way to turn for the nearest land that will give us harbor.

"which way shall we turn to find a safe landing? to find peace and honor for ourselves and our children? to find safety, to find happiness?"

he spread his arms. "there are a million directions we could follow. there are all the planets in the galaxy! but everywhere we turn, we find alien soil, alien cultures, alien people. everywhere except in one direction only.

"our ship—our own planet, earth—is foundering, is sinking, that's true. but it hasn't—yet—sunk. there's still a chance that we can turn back, make earth what it was, and then, from there—go on! go on, until we've made a greater earth, a stronger, happier, more peaceful earth—till we can take our place with pride in the galaxy, and hold up our heads with any other race that lives."

he had captured only half their attention, and he knew it. they were watching him, listening to what he said, but the heads of the audience were turned slightly, like the heads of plants under a solar tropism, toward the side of the chamber where rack and his men sat.

harkway said, "we all know that the earth's technical civilization is smashed—broken like an eggshell. by ourselves, we could never put it back together. and if we do nothing, no one else is going to put it back together for us. but suppose we went to the other races in the galaxy, and said—"

a baritone voice broke in quietly, "'we'll sell our souls to you, if you'll kindly give us a few machines!'"