After several blocks, he threw himself panting into a doorway and looked back down the street. Nothing. Silence and moonlight and darkness, and only his own labored breathing while his chest rose and fell in unaccustomed gasps.
But they had his picture! In seconds, a giant machine could find a similar picture in its files, complete with every detail of information concerning him. They might get him before the work was complete. If he could only evade them until he could turn this to advantage. He felt in his pocket for the radioactive silver disc he knew was there.
Down the street, a shadow moved, and he held his breath. In a shaft of moonlight, black metal glinted darkly. With a muffled cry he slipped from the doorway and flew down the street, trying to still the noise he made. Behind him, no sounds came to indicate pursuit.
He darted across the street, went into an alley, crossed another street. Finally, he came to the park. He stopped. Fearfully, he looked behind him. No one. He walked forward.
The park was a mass of tree and shadow, indistinguishable. Softly, he called, "Julie." No answer. "Julie."
A gentle movement, and someone disengaged from the shadows, glided to him. Someone soft and warm—and feminine. He could smell the elusive taint of her perfume even before she entered his arms.
"You're late," she said.
"I was detained."
She looked sharply at him. "Trouble?"