“Surely this car has a phone. We won’t stir another inch until we find out-or figure out-what we should do. But I am certain of one thing: I should stay in character until Dak or Rog decides that I should fade out. Somebody has to talk to the newsmen. Somebody has to make a public departure for the Tom Paine. You’re sure that Mr. Bonforte can’t be spruced up so that he can do it?”
“What? Oh, he couldn’t possibly. You didn’t see him.”
“So I didn’t. I’ll take your word for it. All right, Penny, I’m ‘Mr. Bonforte’ again and you’re my secretary. We’d better get with
“Yes-Mr. Bonforte.”
“Now try to get Captain Broadbent on the phone, will you, please?”
We couldn’t find a phone list in the car and she had to go through “Information,” but at last she was tuned with the clubhouse of the voyageurs. I could hear both sides. “Pilots’ Club, Mrs. Kelly speaking.”
Penny covered the microphone. “Do I give my name?”
“Play it straight. We’ve nothing to hide.”
“This is Mr. Bonforte’s secretary,” she said gravely. “Is his pilot there? Captain Broadbent.”
“I know him, dear.” There was a shout: “Hey! Any of you smokers see where Dak went?” After a pause she went on, “He’s gone to his room. I’m buzzing him.”
Shortly Penny said, “Skipper? The Chief wants to talk to you,” and handed me the phone.
“This is the Chief, Dak.”
“Oh. Where are you-sir?”
“Still in the car. Penny picked me up. Dak, press conference, I believe. Where is it?”
He hesitated. “I’m glad you called in, sir. There’s been a-slight change in the situation.”
“So Penny told me. I’m just as well pleased; I’m rather tired. Dak, I’ve decided not to stay dirtside tonight; my gimp leg has been bothering me and I’m looking forward to a real rest in free fall.” I hated free fall but Bonforte did not. “Will you or Rog make my apologies to the Commissioner, and so forth?”
“We’ll take care of everything, sir.”
“Good. How soon can you arrange a shuttle for me?”
“The Pixie is still standing by for you, sir. If you will go to Gate 3, I’ll phone and have a field car pick you up.”
“Very good. Out.”
“Out, sir.”
I handed the phone to Penny to put back in its clamp. “Curly Top, I don’t know whether that phone frequency is monitored or not-or whether possibly the whole car is bugged. If either is the case, they may have learned two things-where Dak is and through that where he is, and second, what I am about to do next. Does that suggest anything to your mind?”
She looked thoughtful, then took out her secretary’s notebook, wrote in it: Let’s get rid of the car.
I nodded, then took the book from her and wrote in it: How far away is Gate 3?
She answered: Walking distance.
Silently we climbed out and left. She had pulled into some executive’s parking space outside one of the warehouses when she had parked the car; no doubt in time it would be returned where it belonged-and such minutiae no longer mattered.
We had gone about fifty yards, when I stopped. Something was the matter. Not the day, certainly. It was almost balmy, with the sun burning brightly in clear, purple Martian sky. The traffic, wheel and foot, seemed to pay no attention to us, or at least such attention was for the pretty young woman with me rather than directed at me. Yet I felt uneasy.
“What is it, Chief?”
“Eh? That is what it is!”
“Sir?”
“I’m not being the ‘Chief.’ It isn’t in character to go dodging off like this. Back we go, Penny.”
She did not argue, but followed me back to the car. This time I climbed into the back seat, sat there looking dignified, and let her chauffeur me to Gate 3.
It was not the gate we had come in. I think Dak had chosen it because it ran less to passengers and more to freight. Penny paid no attention to signs and ran the big Rolls right up to the gate. A terminal policeman tried to stop her; she simply said coldly, “Mr. Bonforte’s ear. And will you please send word to the Commissioner’s office to call for it here?”