Hours had become minutes, and the minutes were ticking away with the sweep of the hand on Case's watch. Ten minutes more to go. Using Cranly's figures and chart, he was only a thousand miles from that point in space.
He swung the ship around and cut speed, but held his hand ready at the throttle. There might not be much time to act. And the telecast was using his signal again. He didn't want to turn it up, but he wanted to hear that voice again.
"Damon," the voice said. "Case Damon. This is your last chance."
"Change your tune," Case snarled at the instrument.
But the voice was going on. "If your own life means nothing, perhaps you value another more. Turn on your video and you will see something of interest to you."
That got him, brought him bolt upright in his seat. The voice could mean only one thing—Karin! Somehow they had got to her!
Maybe this was a trick. Only five minutes or less now. They might be trying to distract him. But he couldn't take the chance. With fingers that were icy cold, Case Damon flicked on the video.
A wall was what he first saw. Only a wall. It was a trick. But wait. That wall was familiar, rough, unpainted. The focus was shifting to a section that showed a mounted fish. Now down the wall and across to a familiar couch. The fishing cabin!
"Karin!" Case blurted.