He hurried down the corridor.
Hailard's door was closed. Alston flung it open and leaped inside. Kial Nasron and the director faced each other across the desk. Both faces froze, staring at the intrusion. Hailard's hand dipped toward an open drawer.
In tigerish movement, Alston scooped girl and chair from the floor and flung them over the desk into Hailard's lap. The heat gun flamed at random, melting a section of plastic wall. Alston sprang, went over the desk top into a belly-slide. All three of them crashed in a squirming heap on the floor.
Alston wrenched free first and came up with the heat gun in his hand. Pale and furious, Kial Nasron writhed back to the wall, glaring at the man. Hailard sat up, staring in dazed fixation at the pointing gun.
"It won't do you any good, Alston," he said. "Security police are searching the building."
"We'll see about that," Alston grinned at the girl. "Mr. Hailard and I are exchanging clothes."
After the exchange, Alston smashed the visiphone and inter-office communicator.
"The lady is leaving with me," he warned the director. "So use judgment. If anything happens to me, it happens to her. If anyone gets in my way, I'll blast through. Is that clear?"
Hailard nodded. "Clear to me. Maybe not to the guards on the roof."
Alston's face lighted savagely. "You can come along and explain it to them."