“John.” He looked over at Katherine. She was sitting quietly hi her rocking chair, watching them. “These gentlemen came down in a skimmer, after lunch. They said they were friends of yours. How did you do on the broadcast unit?”
“Fixed some wiring, put hi a new power booster,” he said automatically. “They’re business associates, Katie.”
“Rich business associates,” added Ari, the tall man standing by the stove. He was examining the remains of a skinned ascholite—dinner. He was almost as big as Caitland. Their similarities went further than size.
“It’s not like you to keep something like this to yourself, John,” Morris continued, in a reserved tone that said Caitland had one chance to explain things and it had better be good.
Caitland moved into the main room, put his backpack and other equipment carefully onto the floor. If his body was moving casually his mind was not. He’s already noticed that neither Ari nor Hashin had any weapons out; but that they were readily available went without saying. Caitland knew Morris’s operating methodology too well for that—he’d beenj a cog in it himself for three years now. A respected, well-paid cog.
He spoke easily, and why not, it was the truth.
“There’s no fan or flitter here, not even a motorbike, Mr. Morris. You can find that out for yourself, if you want to check. Also no telecast equipment, no way of communicating with the outside world at all.”
“I’ve seen enough electronic equipment to cannibalize a simple broadcast set,” the leader of the little group countered.