“Uh . . . fine, except, well, that is … I can’t swim,” Hector said, and slowly he sank under.
As he stepped from the ramp of the spaceship to the slideway that led into the terminal building, Odal felt a strange sense of exhilaration.
He was in Acquatainia again! The warm sunlight, the bustling throngs of people, the gleaming towers of the city-he almost felt Dulaq’s sense of joy about being here. Of course, Odal told himself, it’s probably just a reaction to being free of Kor’s dreary Ministry of Intelligence. But the Kerak major had to admit to himself-as he moved toward the spaceport terminal, escorted by four of Kor’s men-that Acquatainia had a rhythm, a freshness, a sense of freedom and gaiety that he had never found on Kerak.
Inside the terminal building, he had fifty meters of automated inspectors to walk through before he could get into the ground car that would take him to the Kerak embassy. If there was going to be trouble, it would be here.
Two of his escorts got into the inspection line ahead of him, two behind.
Odal walked slowly between the two full-length X-ray screens and then stopped before the radiation detector. He inserted his passport and embassy identification cards into the correct slot in the computer’s registration processor.
Then he heard someone in the next line, a woman’s voice, saying, “It is him! I recognize the uniform from the tri-di news.”
“Couldn’t be,” a man’s voice answered. “They wouldn’t dare send him back here.”
Odal purposely turned their way and smiled gravely at them. The woman said, “I told you it was him!” Her husband glared at Odal.
Kor had arranged for a few newsmen to be on hand. As Odal collected bis cards and travel kit at the end of the inspection line, a small knot of cameramen began grinding their tapers at him. He walked briskly toward the nearest doors, and the ground car that he could see waiting outside. His four escorts kept the newsmen at arm’s length.
“Major Odal, don’t you consider it risky to return to Acquatainia?”
“Do you think diplomatic immunity covers assassination?”
“Aren’t you afraid someone might take a shot at you?”
The newsmen yelped after him like a pack of puppies following a man with an armful of bones. But Odal could feel the hatred now. Not so much from the newsmen, but from the rest of the people in the crowded terminal lobby. They stared at him, hating him. Before, when he was Kerak’s invincible warrior, they feared him, even envied him. But now there was nothing in the crowd but hatred for the Kerak major, Odal knew.
He ducked into the ground car and sank into the back seat. Kor’s guards filled the rest of the car. The door slammed shut, and some of the emotion and noise coming from the terminal crowd was cut off. For the first time, Odal thought about why he had returned to Acquatainia. Leoh. He frowned at the thought of what he had to do. But when he thought about Hector, about revenging himself for the Star Watchman’s absurd victory in their duel, he allowed himself to smile.
Leoh sat slumped at the desk chair in the office behind the dueling machine chamber. He had some thinking to do, and his apartment was too comfortable for creative thought.
Through the closed door of the office he heard an outer door bang, hard fast-moving footsteps, and a piercing off-key whistle. With a reluctant smile, he told the door control to open. Hector was standing there with a fist raised, ready to knock.
“How’d you know?…”
“I’m partly telepathic,” Leoh said.
“Really? I didn’t know. Do you think that helped you in your duel with … oh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. …”
Leoh raised a hand for silence. “Come in, my boy, and sit down. Tell me, have you seen the tri-di newscasts this morning?”
Taking a chair next to the Professor, Hector said, “No, sir. I, uh, got in kind of late last night and sort of late getting up this morning. … Got some water in my left ear … it gurgles every time I move my head….”