The man from the past smiled unwarmly. "Quite enough," he said. "You got yourself a deal."
The man named Jack cautiously approached the big building that served as headquarters for Lugert until the time when he would move into the sprawling area of the Government Building.
Jack wore modern clothes; his own shabby ancient ones were carefully stored away in a laboratory closet. His hair was close-cropped in the current fashion.
But inside his skull was the mind of a 20th-century man. And hidden in the folds of his vest was a 20th-century automatic, a snubnosed .38 ready to spit death.
The day was 5 September 2531; he had been in this strange world of the future three days and if all went well he would return to his own time today. He had spent the three days studying the approach to Lugert's headquarters, familiarizing himself with the layout, readying himself for the killing that had to be done.
He was thinking, Funny old duck, that Karson. They all are. Imagine, letting someone like Lugert push them all over the place because all the fight's been bred out of them!
Well, in 600 years a lot could happen. He shrugged. It wasn't his business to worry about the doings of his remote descendants.
His business was to kill.
He knew that Lugert's personal suite was on the eighth floor of the building, that he was guarded by one man outside the door, one at the elevator entrance, and several in the lobby. He didn't have to worry about the ones in the lobby. He didn't really have to worry about any of them on the way in: they wouldn't be expecting anyone dangerous. The only dangerous people in this world were Lugert and his henchmen and they'd probably be off-guard when he came by.