"What the hell is all this? Is something wrong with my pass?"
The guard shook his head. "How would I know? Magnusson put out the
order, take it up with him."
"Believe me," I muttered, "I will."
They looked at each other. "Hell," said one, "he's not under arrest, we
don't have to haul him around like a convict. Can you walk all right
now, Cargill? You know where the Secret Service office is, don't you?
Floor 38. The Chief wants you, and make it fast."
I knew it made no sense to ask questions, they obviously knew no more
than I did. I asked anyhow.
"Are they holding the ship for me? I'm supposed to be leaving on it."
"Not that one," the guard answered, jerking his head toward the
spaceport. I looked back just in time to see the dust-dimmed ship leap
upward, briefly whitened in the field searchlights, and vanish into the
surging clouds above.
My head was clearing fast, and anger speeded up the process. The HQ
building was empty in the chill silence of just before dawn. I had to
rout out a dozing elevator operator, and as the lift swooped upward my
anger rose with it.
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