"Look, Holcomb, as far as I'm concerned, the deal's on. Fine. Thanks for helping me out back there, too. But just thanks—no further payment. And no kidding around. This is a business deal. Have you got that straight, or do I burn you down where you stand and find another boy?"
She meant it. I looked down at her hand, and one of the Colts was in it.
"Okay." I hadn't meant that crack as a pass, but as long as the question had come up, it was all right by me to have it settled right here. "But put that thing away before I make you eat it."
She grinned, suddenly, and put the gun back. "I'm sorry, Ash. But it's the best way I've ever found to establish a clear-cut business relationship. Partners?"
She stuck out her hand, and I took it.
"Deal."
A siren rose and died on Rocket Row. Pat jumped back. "Damn it!" she said. She shot a glance up the alley. "We'd better split up," she said. "Look, Ash," she said hastily, "I'll get in touch with you. Meanwhile, do what I tell you to, and don't waste time asking me why. I'll tell you later. All you have to do now is take the job Transolar is going to offer you. That's all. Take that job, and start to carry it out. I'll be in touch with you somewhere along the line."
She looked down toward the alley's mouth. I followed her glance, and saw shadowy figures of men running by.
"They'll be in here in a minute. I've got a car a couple of blocks away. I'll see you, Ash."
"Yeah. Hurry up," I added, as the first of the cops came warily into the alley.