She nodded, looking at him thoughtfully. "I, uh, I hear you weren't in real good condition to talk to her. I mean, they say you were drunk most of the time."
That touched Dannerman where he lived. "Just for the record," he said stiffly, "they shot me so full of their psychoactive chemicals that I was out of it. For weeks. I don't even remember what I was doing."
"I see. You're blaming somebody else for your behavior."
"I'm not blaming. I'm telling you what happened."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue the point. He asked, "So, talking about love interest, have you got anybody special?"
"Now, how the hell could I? Anyway, I've got other things on my mind. Not just this crap here; I keep wondering what's happening at the Observatory. The way they came and took me away-God knows what they told the people."
Dannerman grinned. "They're very British about that. I imagine they told them you were 'assisting with inquiries.' "
"Yeah, well, they're not stupid there, you know. And I'm worried. You know I was having some money problems. I wish I knew what was going on with my funds-oh, what's this?"
What it was was Merla Tepp. Her face was as expressionless as she could make it, and what she said was, "Sorry to interrupt, people, but I've been ordered to take you for a little ride."
The ride wasn't that little. They were the better part of an hour speeding along the Beltway in one of the Bureau's unmarked electrovans, with two burly noncoms carrying stun-sticks and riot guards sitting alertly behind them. At least they'd left the van windows transparent, so Dan and Pat could look out. He was a little surprised to see that it was dark; they'd spent the whole day stooging around. But the Beltway looked like the Beltway, wherever it was taking you, and Merla Tepp wasn't answering any questions. "Where are we heading?" No answer. "What's going on here?" No answer. "Who gave you the orders?" No real answer, but at least a kind of response: "Colonel Morrisey will meet us, and you can ask her when you see her."
But when the van at last turned into city streets one question answered itself. "Oh, shit," Dannerman said. "They're taking us to Walter Reed."
Pat blinked at him. "The hospital?
"Damn straight it's the hospital. Listen, Tepp! If you think-"
But he never got to finish, and she didn't have to answer; one of the noncoms leaned forward and placed a huge hand on Dannerman's shoulder, while the other casually unlimbered his stunstick. Dannerman saw the light and shut up.
Anyway, they were pulling up to a back entrance, and Dannerman saw Hilda Morrisey moodily waiting in the damp cold. She wasn't answering any questions, either, or at least not right away. "No talking; iliese people aren't cleared," she said, nodding to the noncoms. "Wait till we get you settled." And then, when they got out of the elevator and were herded into a small room that was a close copy of the Bureau's cell, she said:
"What about it, Danno? Change your mind yet?"
He didn't answer that, and she didn't wait for him to. "All right," she said, her expression frank and open-the expression she wore when she was being most duplicitous, "I understand your problem. I admit there are certain risks. But have you ever thought of the fact that if one of you volunteered for the operation, we wouldn't have to ask the other one?"
"Hilda," he said dangerously, "cut the crap. What've you got us here for? Neither one of us signed the consent paper!"
"No," she agreed, "and that's too bad, because it would simplify things just to go in and pull one of the gadgets out. But I've got good news for both of you. There's another kind of test, something the lab guys have just figured out."
Hero Astronaut Returns Home.
Major General Martin Delasquez has unexpectedly returned to Florida after a tour of duty in Kourou, assisting the Eurospace Agency in preparation for a mission to the abandoned Starlab satellite. On arrival, the general scoffed at reports in the Anglo media that his tour was cut short for security reasons. "There is no truth to them," General Delasquez told reporters. "My task was completed, so I came home. That's all there is to it."
– El Diario, Miami
"Hilda!"
"Agent Dannerman," she said frostily, elevating herself to the height of her rank, "don't give me a hard time. Do you understand me?"
"I understand there's something I don't like here. Neither Pat nor I agree to any kind of surgery."
"Of course you don't, you've made that clear. And Dr. Evergood certainly won't perform any without a signed consent, so this isn't like that. There won't be any cutting into your heads. They think there's a chance they can get more dope on that thing in your skulls with some new X-ray thing-don't ask me what it is, all I know is it takes a long exposure and you can't wiggle. Have you eaten anything since you were in the Pit?"
"A couple of crackers, but-"
"That's too bad. It might slow things down."
Alarm bells went off in Dannerman's head. "Does that mean we get put to sleep?"
"Now, how would I know that? Sounds plausible, though, doesn't it? Some sort of tranquilizer, I think. Nothing big, I'm sure of that."
"Now, really, Hilda-"
"Really, Danno," she began, her voice suddenly harsher, "there's no sense arguing about it. I'm not asking for your consent. I'm just telling you what's going to happen because you don't have any ch-"
Then she stopped in mid-breath. She didn't even finish the word "choice." Her eyes went unfocused for a moment. Then she blinked and looked at them again. "You two stay here," she barked, and hurried out of the room.
Pat turned wonderingly to Dannerman. "What the hell was that all about?"
He gave her an abstracted look. "What? Oh, she got a message. In her private phone," he explained. "The little button in her ear; you probably didn't even notice it."
"What kind of message?" Pat demanded. He shook his head. "Dan! Tell me what's happening here! Do you think they're going to operate on us anyway? They can't do it without our signatures, can they?"
Dannerman considered the question. "That's what the law says," he said. And didn't add that the Bureau had its ways of getting around laws. And decided that if the next person through that door was carrying anything that looked like a hypodermic, then that would be the nine to get physical.
The next person who entered wasn't carrying a needle. He wasn't even hospital personnel. It was Deputy Director Marcus Pell himself. He nodded to Dannerman and spoke to Pat. "We haven't officially met, Dr. Adcock, but I've seen a good deal of you."
He was being courtly. Dannerman had no patience with that just at that moment. "What's going on?" he demanded.
The deputy director sighed. "I'm not sure I know," he said. "There's been a rather surprising new development. There has just been a new transmission from that satellite of yours, Dr. Adcock."
"But there's nobody there!" Dannerman said.
Pat had a different reaction. She caught her breath. "Do you think it's one of those funny-looking extraterrestrials?"
"Not this time," Pell said somberly, studying his agent. "It was from a human being, Dannerman. He said there were a bunch of people up there in orbit. He said they were going to come back to Earth in the orbiter's Assured Crew Return Vehicle, the emergency vehicle that's supposed to-"
"I know what it's supposed to do," Dannerman snapped.
"Yes. Well. The funny thing about it, Dannerman, is this guy on Starlab said he was you."
That took Dan Dannerman back as nothing else had. He goggled at the D.D. "He says he's me?"
"That's what the man claims. We didn't believe him, of course. So we checked his voiceprint, and by God he was right. He is."
CHAPTER FOUR
Colonel Hilda Morrisey liked orders that gave her some slack for interpretation, but this time she could have wished for a little less of it. The deputy director's parting order had been no more than, "Take care of those two and stick around." That was it. Nothing more specific. Especially nothing more informative, and then he was gone.