Guthrie snorted. “I’ve been watching you since the minute you landed. When you split off from Murray, I sent Willoughby to keep an eye on you.”

“He didn’t do a very good job of it. He led me straight to the girls. I wasn’t even getting close until he showed up.”

“You would have found them sooner or later. I know Murray—he would have searched the asteroid all over again, especially this end because there’s nobody down here. But now he won’t have to, because you’ve already done that and you didn’t find anything.”

“You expect me to tell him that?”

“No. But when this section decompresses, it will be obvious there’s no one alive down here. And you won’t be around to tell him what you found.”

Nick laughed in spite of the situation.

“You think killing a U.F. Marshal is going to take the heat off?”

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. You’re going to have an accident. You know, eager-beaver rookie from Terra, doesn’t know shit about how to work an airlock…pushes the wrong button.”

“Well aren’t you just the criminal genius?”

Guthrie shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

“And now…you’re going to tell me what it is about?”

“It’s about money. It’s about retirement. I’m sick to death of living on the ass end of the Solar System. Once I get those girls into circulation, in six months I’ll have enough cash to get to Mars or Titan and settle down. I ain’t looking for much, don’t need to get rich—I just want to get a planet or a moon under my feet. No more deep space, no more low-gravity habitats, no more microwaved food. Just a few creature comforts. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I just think it’s too bad you’re willing to sacrifice two innocent young women to fulfill that need.”

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