He was not worth a straw to Intelligence; he was a mere sleeper, just a small coin. One day he felt that behind his back there was someone else; someone a big shot of such high value that they could not afford to lose him. Who could that be, - a recent defector? He had no idea. He could only sense a trace of him, barely-there, just a nip. They were seeking to ward off the trail, and not just by drawing it aside. Now it appeared to lead straight to him. Every little thing pointed to him. The trace would be lifeless, classically beautiful and as such stone-dead. |