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face … the overall image。 A disguise had to be total。 One needed only the slightest alterations； however； because the idea was camouflage and it did not do to overdo specific characteristics。
He found the fire stairs； went carefully up to the top floor。 Here there was much activity。 Both workers and Tomkin's staff were present。 All the better； he thought。
Tomkin's office； a full corner of the floor； was nine…tenths plete but it had priority because he was already working out of it。 Therefore lunch breaks were not observed up here。 The morning shift went down to eat while a swing shift arrived to continue the work。 The man was just in time to join them。 He walked past the steady gaze of Frank； who stood just inside the thick metal doors to the office。 This was hardly the most difficult part。 It was doing what he had to do in plain sight of everyone。
The answer； of course； was easy。 He merely had to look as if he knew what he was doing and no one paid him the slightest attention。 It might even have been amusing； the way in which he performed the most clandestine of movements out in the open like the living embodiment of 'The Purloined Letter'； if he had allowed himself the luxury of feeling。 That； however； was quite impossible for him in this context； thus it was merely an object of intellectual curiosity like a peculiarly striated rock brought home from a summer field trip。
He had； of course； to work in fits and starts： that is； to work on what was his own in between what he was given。
This presented no problems other than extending his time in the office。
He turned it； however； to his own advantage； as was his wont； by using the time to memorize the contours； the tiny nooks and crannies； the open spaces and the closed。 He found where the wall was baffled and where it was bare beneath the paint and plaster； where the wiring went and the placement of all of the electrical outlets； where the circuit breakers were and where the auxiliary lighting。 At the moment none of these things fitted in with his plans but one never knew when the knowledge might be crucial。 Meticulous planning was essential； however； one always had to build into one's plans a bit of leeway because events had a peculiar way of determining themselves and often； too often； a random element … an extra guard； a rainstorm； even an unexpected sound； a minute thing that could not be foreseen … slipped in。 One never knew。
By one…thirty he was finished and； still under the jaundiced eye of Frank； he went out with the rest of the swing crew。 Outside the metal doors； they turned to their right； heading towards the outside cage elevator one floor below。 As he was turning the corner； the elevator at the end of the hallway sighed open and Tomkin； acpanied by Whistle； appeared。
The man paused for a moment； his dead eyes glittery。 How easy it would be； he thought languidly； to take him out now。 Whistle dead on his knees and the big man tumbling through the hot air to the unfinished pavement below。 He liked it； it had a certain irony to it。 But he did not admire it and that made all the difference in the world。 It was not elegant； for one thing； and； for another； there would be little terror in it for Tomkin： just the brief moments he would be airborne； the hot wind in his face while the rubble of the sidewalk reached up for him。 What would Tomkin think of in those instants； the man wondered。 God？ Oblivion？ Hell？ The man shrugged inwardly。 It made little difference。 He could understand none of these Western concepts。 There was only karma for him。 Karma and the arni he would inhabit when he died； waiting the prescribed time until he returned in another body； in another life； carrying his karma。
This concept of life that was so basic； so fundamental； was； he knew； beyond the conception of men like Tomkin。 This did not make him any easier to kill； the doing was just that much less absorbing。 It was the mechanics of the penetration； the sowing of the terror which occupied part of his mind； the act of killing itself would mean as much to him as stepping on a cockroach。 After all； that was what Tomkin was。 He could never be called a civilized man。
As to the eventual escape； the man knew that on this assignment there was a possibility that it would not happen。 It did not faze him in the least； for it was something towards which he had prepared all his life。 To die as a warrior was life's highest aspiration； after all； for history recorded the manner of one's death and it was in this that one was remembered forever； not how one lived one's life。
Not that he might ever be caught eliminating Tomkin。 It was the other half of his plan： the part that made it all worthwhile。 He was being paid a small fortune to take out Tomkin； but money meant very little to him。 In fact； when he had arrived to take a look around … as he had put it to his then potential employers … he had not been certain he would take the assignment。 But he had e upon something so startling； so irresistible that he could not refuse。 He had learned early to take what life gave。 He was being given something now that was so fantastic that he found himself salivating at the prospect。 To turn away from such an opportunity would be a crime。 The chance would never e again。 The set…up would never be so sweet。
And this had been the second reason for not taking Tomkin out at this moment。 Besides； it would； by necessity； have to be sloppy； this kind of total improvization went against his grain。 He could do it and do it well but he resisted it。 He hated to mop up all the loose ends after the fact。 He liked things clean and neat； in another life he might have made a superb diamond cutter。
So it was that he just took a long； hard look at Tomkin as he strode down the hallway； unaware that death was at his left hand。
Then the man had moved on； down the unfinished corridor； ducking a loose loop of wire flex hanging from an open panel in the ceiling。 In a moment he was through the door to the fire stairs； off the floor。
Once down in the atrium lobby； half in shadows； he poked a finger in his ear as if scratching an itch。 In the canal was now placed a flesh…coloured plastic sphere； flattened on the outside。 It was totally undetectable。 He touched the top of it with the tip of his index finger and began to listen。
Nicholas felt it as he turned away from the line of shining chromium phones along one wall of the station： that premonitory tickle at the base of his neck。 He began to walk calmly towards a bookstore； though he had had no intention of going in there。 It was merely the way he was headed and he did not want to make any sudden alteration in his movements。 He stood by the window； however； instead of going in at the open door。 People passed him； going in and out。 There was a short line at the cash register； there was a sale on； 20 per cent off the top ten paperback best sellers。
He stood at a slight angle； not looking inside… but using the plate glass as one would a mirror。 He watched covertly a good section of the station behind him。 Observation was made difficult by the poor refraction； the glare of the lights； the distortion of image caused by the glass itself。 He accepted all of these a