"You will be informed," he said to Marge.
She was staring after me, open-mouthed, as the door slid neatly shut
behind us.
"_W-Will_ I be back?" I asked desperately, as we waited for the
elevator. "At all? Am I under arrest? What's up, anyhow?"
"You will be informed," said the man again. I had to let it go at that.
Security men were not hired for their loquaciousness. They had a car
waiting at the curb downstairs, in the No Parking zone. The cop on the
beat very politely opened the door for them when we got there. Those
red-and-bronze uniforms carry an awful lot of weight. Not to mention
the golden bulk of their holstered collapsers.
There was nothing for me to do but sweat it out and to try and enjoy
the ride, wherever we were going.
* * * * *
"_You_ are Jery Delvin?"
The man who spoke seemed more than surprised; he seemed stunned. His
voice held an incredulous squeak, a squeak which would have amazed his
subordinates. It certainly amazed me. Because the speaker was Philip
Baxter, Chief of Interplanetary Security, second only to the World
President in power, and not even that in matters of security. I managed
to nod.