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he finished with the records department, he would get rid of the creature.
     
    There was a knock at the door.
    The woman sent her silent little girl into the bathroom. Then she walked over to lean against the door and listened with one hand on the bolt. “Yes?” she finally asked quietly.
    “You have a delivery,” a soft voice replied.
    That was the code sentence. She glanced at the covered bodies of the black-clad man and woman lying beneath the window and threw the bolt sharply.
    “Thank you for coming so quick,” she said gratefully; “I don’t care how you dispose of them, just—” She choked on the rest of the words.
    The man on the other side of the doorway was not from the discreet service she had contacted. Dressed entirely in black, devoid of hair even to the shaved eyebrows, he was clearly a mate to the corpses in her chamber.
    His gaze indicated that he bore her no animosity, but that he would as soon kill her as talk with her. Her hand went to her lips, and she slowly backed away from the door as the man entered. He was tall—very tall. He had to bend to fit beneath the portal.
    His stare traveled across the room, lingering momentarily on the two shapes beneath the blankets. Embroidered red whirls on his skullcap caught the afternoon light, as did the skull engraved into his belt buckle. It gleamed like alien blood in the room.
    “I didn’t,” the woman started to say, then she slumped inwardly, her hands falling limply to her side. “What does it matter now,” she muttered, with the resignation of those who have no hope. She sank down on the pillows in the far corner, where she entertained business far too frequently. “It’s a rotten life, probably hopeless for the poor child, too. Kill me if you want. This is all too far above me. I can’t fight any more.”
    Ignoring her, the man strode past her to kneel above the two bodies. He did not seem to believe these two could be dead. When he finished, he rose and turned to her. The fury in his eyes was so bright that in spite of her declaration she shrank back a little deeper into the cushions.
    “I have no quarrel with you or your child,” he explained, with a curt nod in the direction of the bathroom. “Why, though, did you not notify us instead of calling for others to take away the dead?”
    The woman laughed hollowly. “Nobody contacts the Qwarm if it can be avoided, no matter what their situation.”
    “True. I note your point,” the tall specter acknowledged without humor. “I suppose it would have been too much to expect.” Moving to the window, he leaned out and made a beckoning motion.
    Shortly, four men entered the room. They were not Qwarm. Carefully they loaded the bodies into two long cylinders. When they departed, the tall hunter turned his attention back to the silent woman in the corner. There was a soft murmur from the region of the bathroom.
    “Mommy . . . can I come out now?”
    Suddenly the woman looked frightened again. Her gaze shifted rapidly from the tall figure to the bathroom door and back again.
    “I said I have no quarrel with you, woman.” He leaned close over her, ice-eyed, hollow-cheeked. “Our quarrel is with whoever was foolish enough to have done this thing.” Reaching into a pocket at his belt, he brought out a fistful of metal bars.
    In spite of her fear, the woman’s eyes glowed. Here was more money than she had ever seen at one time in her life. It represented many, many weeks during which she would not have to entertain visitors in the room.
    “Describe them,” the Qwarm said tightly, extending the metal.
    The woman licked her lips as she considered. She did not have to consider long. “Not them,” she corrected. “Him.”
    For the first time since entering the apartment, the specter showed some emotion: surprise. “Only one?” he inquired in a disbelieving, warning tone. “You are certain? Might he have had friends, accomplices?”
    “I don’t know,” she insisted. “I saw only