He held out a passport with a ticket folded in it. Durham examined
them, put them in his pocket, and tipped the attendant, who went away.
Durham bought three microbooks and moved on. He could not see anybody
watching him, and he told himself it was only nerves that made the skin
creep on his back as though eyes were boring into it.
The switch had been made all right on his papers. His name was now John
Mills Watson and he had a passage to Nanta Dik aboard the freighter
_Margaretta K_. He still wanted a drink. He was determined that he
would not go and get it, and he headed grimly for a stairwalk that led
down to the port cab system. He had almost stepped onto it, and then
from the loudspeakers all over the huge rotunda a voice boomed out,
saying,
"Mr. Lloyd Durham, please come to the Information Desk."
Durham flinched as though somebody had struck him. He thought,
Hawtree's sent word to recall me. Perhaps it was a trap.
* * * * *
He approached the desk cautiously, while his name continued to blare
forth from the loudspeakers. Somebody was standing there. A woman, with
her back to him. He had not seen that back for over a year, not since
the night of the accident, but he had not forgotten it.
"Hello, Susan," he said.
She turned around, and he added bitterly, "He needn't have sent _you_."
He was convinced now that she had come to call him back.