the pitons into the brickwork, working slowly, carefully, concentrating on keeping her center of gravity within the narrow limits of the ledge. Then she had to lean forward enough to free the loose rope from over her shoulder. The next job was to tie the end to the pitons. The job had to be done well, but could be done only with one hand. It was slow work and the concentration required was similar to what she needed as an Olympic gymnast — which she was as a youth — or an Olympic-caliber coach, which she was now.
On the way back along the ledge, Babette had to check the computer-room window with the mirror in her right hand. She saw two heads turned toward the clock on the wall. A sense of urgency gripped her. She began to pick up the pace. The result was that she held her arms too far from her body as she passed the mirror from her right hand back to her left. Her center of gravity shifted beyond the edge of the thin ledge. She almost fell. Babette shot her arms out in front of her as quickly as her highly trained muscles could react. She then continued the motion until her hands hit the wall over her head.
The momentum of pushing her arms out pushed her back against the wall. Before her body could lose balance again, the arms were against the wall over her head. She breathed deeply and slowly slid her arms down along the wall to her side. It was then that she realized that the mirror had dropped out onto the street. She watched carefully for a moment, but no one had noticed.
Pol and Gadgets pulled Babette in the window. They all breathed deep sighs of relief.
When Lao returned, everyone got back to business. Babette pawed through the half-dozen tapes that Lao had bought. Gadgets put the batteries into the portable stereo. Pol dragged bodies from the closet.
'I don't see why they call this portable,' Gadgets remarked. 'It must weigh twenty pounds.'
Lao shrugged. 'She wanted lots of volume. This one can break eardrums.'
'Hey. This is it. This is exactly what I wanted!' Babette exclaimed, holding up a cassette.
'What are you going to do with it?' Pol asked.
'I'm going to deliver a message, a message that will keep those two downstairs totally occupied for over four minutes.'
'Can we get two bodies down there in four minutes and then get out?' Pol asked.
'It should be easy,' Gadgets figured. 'We'll already have a rope sling on them. We'll tie the rope off and use it to slide the bodies down to the other window. I'll catch them there and haul them in. If Ti watches my back, it should be easy.'
Pol turned to Babette. 'How will we know when to start?''
'When you see the window open, start down there. When you hear the music, get moving. I'll play it loudly. It'll cover any sound you make.'
Gadgets stared at her for a moment. Her electric-blue eyes met his without flinching.
'You'll be taking a bigger risk than walking narrow ledges,' he told her. 'How will you get back out of there? I imagine they'll want you to stay and play.'
'If she isn't out of there one minute after the music stops, I'll go in after her,' Ti said. 'I can get her out without anyone associating us with their main problem.'
Gadgets grinned at the small woman. 'Do that,' he agreed.
'Give me a couple more tapes to drop into my handbag,' Babette said to Gadgets.
'Which ones?'
'Doesn't matter. It just wouldn't look right if I carried a monstrosity like this and didn't have several tapes to paw through.'
Pol grinned. 'This lady knows role camouflage.'
'Let's put the show on the road,' Gadgets said.
Babette hefted the oversized portable and let herself out of the bare office. Ti waited a few seconds and then followed. Pol and Gadgets were already preparing to move the bodies down two floors.
Gadgets looked up from the grisly task and chuckled. 'Good thing the streetlights don't reach this high and that there's no moon yet. I'd hate to have to explain to some cop what we're doing right now.'
Pol tied off the rope, being careful to get the slack exactly right so that the line would take whoever was on it to the fourth-floor ledge just outside the correct window.
'You ready for your space walk, commander?' he said when he was finished.
'As long as I have firm footing,' Gadgets replied, looking out the window.
Babette knocked timidly on the door to the WAR computer room. In a moment it opened a crack.
Babette put on an easy grin. 'Hi,' she said. 'Can I use your telephone?'
'Don't you have one upstairs?' The voice was curt, impatient.
'I don't know. I wouldn't use it anyway. Some calls a girl doesn't want another girl to hear.'
The HIT man was curious. 'If you used our phone, we'd hear you,' he probed.
Babette made a gesture with her left hand, dismissing the thought. 'That doesn't count. You don't even know me.'
The eye made an up-and-down movement. At least that much of the man was trying to get to know her better. After a couple of seconds the door swung open.
'Sure, come in and call,' the guy decided.
As Babette entered, the other hardguy glanced up from a desk where he had been playing showdown with his partner. His eyes fixed on the cassette player.
'You didn't have that when you came in here,' he said.
'Nah,' Babette answered. 'I loaned it to my friend, but I need it back. I use it for my work.'
'You must be popular with the boss if you take that damn thing to work.'
'You don't get it. The boss supplies them. The girls got to make a deposit, you know, but then we get to keep the thing as long as we work there.'
The tough crumb was interested. 'Work where?' he asked.
'Very Special Message.'
'What special message?'
'Nah. That's the name of the place I work, Very Special Message. You got a message you want delivered it can be delivered by a gorilla, a clown, Santa Claus. But mostly people order strip-a-grams. No one ever sent you a strip-a-gram?'
'You mean you go and do a striptease to deliver a message?' the guy who let her in exclaimed.
'Sure. No one ever sent you a strip-a-gram?'
'Who'd send
'Your boss. Your girlfriend. Just about anybody with fifty bucks and a sense of humor.''
The two hardguys looked at each other. They were both grinning.
'Hey fellas, I came in to use the phone, remember?'
The guy sitting at the desk said, 'I don't remember, but I'm sure you could deliver a message.'
'Hey, have a heart! This is my night off.'
'Why don't you have a heart, baby.'
'Yeah,' agreed the one who had let her in. 'I've never seen a strip-a-gram.'
'You're kidding,' Babette said. 'I've done so many of the damn things that I'd of sworn everyone has seen me personally. And Bernie has ten of us going full-time, plus some part-timers in the busy season.'
'Let's see you do your thing, kid,' said the man at the desk. It sounded more like a command than a request.
'I ain't dressed for it,' Babette complained, but her whine indicated she wanted to be encouraged.
'I thought you got undressed for it,' the seated guy scoffed.
'I could just go down and use the lousy pay phone,' Babette complained. 'But you guys were so nice, making sure I found the right place. I'll see what I can do. It's too hot in here. Open the window. This is hard work.'
'The place is air-conditioned.'
'Listen. One rule we have is no sex — we're not prostitutes. The second rule is: if the place is hot, we don't do it. We can't shower after and we can't afford to go home between every message. So, either I open the windows, or I go use the pay phone.'
'Go ahead. We can close them later.'
Babette walked over to the windows and opened them. Her slow controlled walk already had the men
