"There's got to be a shot!" Jeff burst out. "He couldn't have slipped through." He turned to Bahr frantically. "Could he have gone into the Center?"
"On what pretense? They'd throw him to the Mercy Men—or the booby hatch, one or the other. He'd know better than to try." The sandy-haired man sank down on his haunches and gripped his side tightly. "He'll be back or we'll hear the shooting. He couldn't have slipped through."
A three-wheeled jet car slid in to the curb, and a man came up to them, eyes wide. "Get him?"
Bahr scowled. "No sign. How about the other boys?"
The man blinked. "Not a whisper. He never reached the end of the block."
"Did you check with Klett and Barker?"
"They haven't seen a soul down here."
Bahr glanced at Jeff sharply. "How about the streets behind? Any chance of a breakthrough there?"
The man's voice was matter-of-fact. "It's airtight. He couldn't get through without somebody seeing him." He stepped back to the car and spoke rapidly into the talker for a moment or two. "Nothing yet."
"Damn. How about Howie and the boys inside the place?"