Don went in and phoned the Carvansary. Was there any mail being held for him? No, there was not. He explained that he was not registered at the hotel; the clerk looked again. No, sorry sir.
Don came out and told Dr. Jefferson. The doctor chewed his lip. “Son, I’ve made a bad error in judgment.” He glanced around; there was no one near them. “And I’ve wasted time.”
“Can I help, sir?”
“Eh? Yes, I think you can—I’m sure you can.” He paused to think. “We’ll go back to my apartment. We must. But we won’t stay there. We’ll find some other hotel—not the Caravansary—and I’m afraid we must work all night. Are you up to it?”
“Oh, certainly!”
“I’ve some ‘borrowed-time’ pills; they’ll help. See here Don, whatever happens, you are to catch that ship tomorrow. Understand?”
Don agreed. He intended to catch the ship in any case and could not conceive of a reason for missing it. Privately he was beginning to wonder if Dr. Jefferson were quite right in his head.
“Good. We’ll walk; it’s not far.”
A half-mile of tunnels and a descent by elevator got them there. As they turned into the tunnel in which the doctor’s apartment was located, he glanced up and down it; it was empty. They crossed rapidly and the doctor let them in. Two strange men were seated in the living room.
Dr. Jefferson glanced at them, said, “Good evening, gentlemen,” and turned back to his guest. “Good night, Don. It’s been very pleasant seeing you and be sure to remember me to your parents.” He grasped Don’s hand and firmly urged him out the door.
The two men stood up. One of them said, “It took you a long time to get home, Doctor.”
“I’d forgotten the appointment, gentlemen. Now, goodbye, Don-I don’t want you to be late.”
The last remark was accompanied by increased pressure on Don’s hand. He answered, “Uh-good night, Doctor. And thanks.”
He turned to leave, but the man who had spoken moved quickly between him and the door. “Just a moment, please.”
Dr. Jefferson answered, “Really, gentlemen, there is no reason to delay this boy. Let him go along so that we may get down to our business.”
The man did not answer directly but called out, “Elkins! King!” Two more men appeared from a back room of the apartment. The man who seemed to be in charge said to them, “Take the youngster back to the bedroom. Close the door.”
“Come along, buddy.”
Don, who had been keeping his mouth shut and trying to sort out the confusing new developments, got angry. He had more than a suspicion that these men were security police even though they were not in uniform, but he had been brought up to believe that honest citizens had nothing to fear. “Wait a minute!” he protested. “I’m not going any place. What’s the idea?”
The man who had told him to come along moved closer and took his arm. Don shook it off. The leader stopped any further action by his men with a very slight gesture. “Don Harvey—”
“Huh? Yes?”
“I could give you a number of answers to that. One of them is this—” He displayed a badge in the palm of his hand. “But that might be faked. Or, if I cared to take time, I could satisfy you with stamped pieces of paper, all proper and legalistic and signed with important names.” Don noticed that his voice was gentle and cultured.
“But it happens that I am tired and in a hurry and don’t want to be bothered playing word games with young punks. So let it stand that there are four of us all armed. So—will you go quietly, or would you rather be slapped around a bit and dragged?”
Don was about to answer with school-game bravado; Dr. Jefferson cut in. “Do as they ask you, Donald!”
He closed his mouth and followed the subordinate on back. The man led him into the bedroom and closed the door. “Sit down,” he said pleasantly. Don did not move. His guard came up, placed a palm against his chest and pushed. Don sat down.