“I should call Selene’s security department,” the doctor said.
“Aren’t they guarding the four?” Wanamaker demanded, knowing that they had been called off by one of his own people who had hacked into their computer system.
“Not on this shift,” said the doctor. “They’ll be back in the morning, at oh-eight-hundred.”
“All right then,” Wanamaker said. “I’ll deal with them in the morning. Right now, I’ve been instructed to take the four to Astro headquarters.”
Wanamaker was thinking, If this young pup doesn’t cave in I’ll have to slug him. He didn’t want to do that. He wanted this extraction to be painless.
The young man’s face was too bland to frown effectively, but he screwed up his features and said, “This hospital is run by the governing board of Selene, not Astro or any other corporation.”
Wanamaker nodded knowingly. “Very well. You contact your governing board and get their okay.”
The doctor glanced at the wall clock. “It’s almost one a.m.!”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“They’ll all be asleep.”
“Then you’ll have to wake them.” Wanamaker hoped fervently that the kid didn’t think of calling Selene’s security department. That could create a problem.
Before the doctor could make up his mind, Wanamaker suggested, “Why don’t you call Douglas Stavenger?”
“Mr. Stavenger?” The doctor’s eyed widened. “He knows about this?”
“And he’s given his approval,” Wanamaker lied.
“Well…”
“Is there any medical reason to keep them hospitalized?” Wanamaker demanded.
The doctor shook his head. “No, they’re supposed to be released in the morning.”
“Very well then. Give me the release forms and I’ll sign them.”
“I don’t know…”
Wanamaker didn’t wait any further. He walked past the puzzled, uncertain young doctor. His six subordinates marched in step behind him, trying to look fierce, as Wanamaker had instructed them to do.
ARMSTRONG SPACEPORT
As the cart trundled to a stop at the end of the tunnel that led back to Selene, Wanamaker noticed that the lower half of Pancho’s right leg was wrapped in a cast. She looked grim, almost angry, as she sat behind the cart’s wheel with her leg sticking out onto the fender.
Fuchs was standing beside Wanamaker, also far from happy. His three aides were already on their way to the little rocket shuttlecraft that would take them up to the vessel waiting in orbit above the Moon’s rugged, airless surface.
“Humphries is alive and well,” said Pancho, without getting down from the electric cart. “No thanks to you, Lars.”
His mouth a downcast slash, Fuchs answered, “Too bad. The world would be better off with him dead.”
“Maybe so, but all you did was kill a dozen or so of his people. Now he’s got a perfectly good excuse to go after your ass, ol’ buddy.”
Fuchs started to reply, thought better of it, and said nothing.
Turning to Wanamaker, Pancho asked, “What’ve you got for him?”
“The only available armed vessel is a new attack ship, Halsey.
Pancho nodded brusquely. “Okay, Lars. That’s your new ship. Officially, you’ve hijacked it while it was sitting in lunar orbit waiting for a crew to be assigned to it.”
“You’re giving it to me?” Fuchs asked, flabbergasted.
“You’re stealing it. We’ll add it to your long list of crimes.”
His broad, normally downcast face broke into a bitter smile. “Pancho … I… I don’t know what to say.”
She did not smile back at him. “Just get your butt up to the ship and get the hell out of here as fast as you can. Go back to the Belt and hide out with the rock rats. Humphries is going to come after you with everything he’s got.”
Fuchs nodded, understanding. “I’m only sorry that I didn’t kill him. He deserves to die.”
“So do we all, ol’ buddy,” said Pancho. “Now, git! Before a platoon of HSS security goons comes boiling down the tunnel.”
Fuchs grasped her hand and, bending slightly, kissed it. Pancho’s face turned red.
“Go on, git. There’s gonna be plenty hell to pay; I’ve got to get busy.”
Almost laughing, Fuchs turned and started trotting down the corridor that led to the waiting shuttlecraft, a thickset, sturdy little badger of a man clad in black, his short arms pumping as he ran.