"That's right."
"Your ID card, please."
I handed him the wallet I'd appropriated. He unfolded it and looked for
a long few seconds at the White House card under the cellophane window.
Then he handed the wallet back.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Your pilot is ready, as arranged. Will the lady
be accompanying you?"
"Yes," I said. "My secretary, Miss Linx." The throb in my head was
worse. I supposed it was the tension.
"Okay, Sam." He winked. He turned and gave an order. The inner pane of
the airlock rose swiftly and a tiny craft, no more than three times
the size of my Volkswagen, rolled out from the side. Joy and I walked
toward it. So did the one man in Earth clothing. Without a glance at
us, he went into the pilot's compartment forward.
Joy and I had reached the steps leading to the passenger space aft when
the Monolithian in the cloak said, "One last thing, Mr. Kent. The last
formality."
Throb-throb, went my head. Joy looked at me questioningly and put her
hand inside my elbow. I squeezed it to my body.
"All right," I said as if annoyed. "Let's get it over with."
There was just the slightest trace of suspicion in his eyes as he said,
"What word from you shall I send to our colleagues?"
The throbbing in my skull grew more intense. "Duty," I said, not
knowing why. But I said it firmly.