"I don't think," said the stranger, "that this transaction is going
through." He stepped so close we were almost jaw to jaw. "Let me see
your identity tag."
"Who are you trying to impersonate?" I said.
"A common ordinary rancher," he replied, flashing his badge. "Now let's
see your identification."
"Certainly." I showed him my false wrist tag.
"Donald Simpson, I see." He stared at me through narrowed eyes. "Where
did you find that, Mr. Sponsor?"
"Sponsor? Is that the guy you're looking for? I have about a dozen
other documents to prove I'm Simpson. If you have the patience to look
at them."
I opened the briefcase and handed him the packet. They had cost me
thousands and they were awfully good forgeries. They slowed the
detective down quite a bit.
"Why are you offering that kind of money to get the lady on board?"
"Because I'm awfully anxious to get rid of her."
"You didn't happen to put a kid aboard that ship too, for the same
reason?"
"If you think I did, why don't you go look?"
"I may do that, mister. You know, we can hold this ship on the field
for an hour or more if we think it would prove profitable."
I saw Celia waving from the passenger gangway, and the colonizer come
sprinting our way.
"It's done!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Let's have the money."