"I think so," he said coldly. "There are a couple of gaps yet which you
can fill in."
Carolyn shook her head in a superior manner. "You didn't just
_discover_ this thing, you know," she said calmly. "You were shown most
of it deliberately."
"Indeed?" His voice was sarcastic.
"We knew that someone high up and undercover had furnished you with
a spacecraft and a forged license, hoping that your reputation would
establish you as a racketeer. He used you efficiently, and so we merely
used you more efficiently. There are two ends to a fishline, Charles,
and we caught Howard Clevis on the wrong end of the line, so to speak.
We also--"
"You caught Clevis?"
"As soon as we knew who your contact was we pulled him in. So if you're
expecting a flight of military spacecraft to come racing up in time to
intercept the rendezvous ship out there, forget it. The military is
still on the landing blocks at the spaceport."
* * * * *
Farradyne whirled and peered into the radar. The single pip was close
and closing the range swiftly, but there was nothing else on the
'scope. It was a huge ship, if the size of the radar response meant
anything, and Farradyne peered into the coupled telescope.
Nothing like it could ever have been built in secret anywhere among the
habitable planets of the solar system. The size of it was such that the
purchase of the metal alone would have created some notice, and the
rest of the project would require the resources of a planet to feed it
and the men that built it.
Farradyne turned away from the telescope.
"Baby, what a sucker you played me for!" he jeered. "So I was to be
your lover, your husband? Together, hand in hand, we go to cement the
first interstellar union. The mating of a jackass and a triple-tongued
canary, that the fruit of such union will be half-ass and bird-brained!
Well, if it's war your gang wants, we'll give it to 'em!"
Farradyne strode across the room toward the controls, and as he came,
Carolyn's hand moved swiftly, catching up the microphone and bringing
it to her mouth. She cried a singy-songy rhythm into the mike. It
reminded Farradyne of an exotic trio chanting a ritual celebration.
He slapped the microphone out of her hand. It hurtled out to the end of
its cord and jerked free, crashing against the far wall and leaving the
cord-ends dangling open like a raw sore.
He caught her by the hair and lifted her out of the seat and hurled
her across the room. She fell and went rolling in a tumble of arms and
legs until she came up hard against the wall beside the microphone. She
scooped it up and hurled it at Farradyne's head; he caught it in one
hand and dropped it to the floor.
He dropped into the seat and hit the levers with both hands. The
Lancaster surged upwards, throwing Carolyn back to the floor in a
painful heap. The acceleration rose to three gravities and then to four.
"This trick we take," he gloated.
Carolyn moaned; it sounded like attempted laughter.
He looked into the radarscope and saw that despite his four gravities
of acceleration the monstrous spacecraft was matching him and closing
the range.