"The rest of the squadron is still out there. If we don't show, they'll
carry on alone. They're supplied for a century's operation. They don't
need us."
That was true up to a point. The squadron had everything--except fuel.
"You figure you got it made if you can get your hands on that
scout-boat," Arena said. "You figure to pick up fuel pretty easy by
knocking off say the Lackawanna Pile."
"It shouldn't be too tough; a fleet boat of the Navy packs a wallop."
Arena tapped his teeth with a slim paper-cutter.
"You're worried your outfit will wind up Max Arena's private Navy,
right? I'll tell you something. You think I'm sitting on top of the
world, huh? I own this town, and everybody in it. All the luxury and
fancy dinners and women I can use. And you know what? I'm bored."
"And you think running the Navy might be diverting?"
"Call it whatever you want to. There's something big going on out
there, and I don't plan to be left out."
"Arena, when I clear atmosphere, we'll talk. Take it or leave it."
The smile was gone now. Arena looked at me, rubbing a finger along his
blue cheek.
"Suppose I was to tell you I know where your other three boys are,
Maclamore?"
"Do you?" I said.
"And the boat," Arena said. "The works."
"If you've got them here, I want to see them, Arena. If not, don't
waste my time."
"I haven't exactly got 'em here, Maclamore. But I know a guy that knows
where they are."
"Yeah." I said.
Arena looked mad. "Okay, I'll give it to you, Maclamore. I got a
partner in this deal. Between us we got plenty. But we need what you
got, too."
"I've made my offer, Arena. It stands."
"Have I got your word on that, Maclamore?" He stood up and came over
to stand before me. "The old Academy word. You wouldn't break that,
would you Maclamore?"
"I'll do what I said."
Arena walked to his desk, a massive boulder of Jadeite, cleaved and
polished to a mirror surface. He thumbed a key.
"Send him in here," he said.