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"So that was it," Dalgroth Sorn, the Paratime Commissioner for Security said, relieved when Tortha Karf had finished. "Yes, and I'll repeat it under narco-hyp, too," Tortha Karf added. "Oh, don't talk that way, Karf," Dalgroth Sorn scolded. He was at least a century Tortha Karf's senior; he had the face of an elderly and sore-toothed lion.
"There ought to be somebody on the Force close enough to Salgath Trod's anthropometric specifications that our cosmeticians could work him over into a passable impersonation. Our story is that Salgath is on PolTerm, undergoing narco-hypnosis. We will produce an audio-visual of him as soon as he is out of narco-hyp.
On the third or fourth bar, Dalla woke and sat up, waking Zinganna, and blinked at him perplexedly. "What time is it?" she asked. "About 1245," he told her. "Ohhh! We just got to sleep," she said. "We're both bushed!" "You had a hard time. Feel all right after your narco-hyp, Zinganna?" "It wasn't so bad, and I had a nice sleep. And Dalla ... Dr. Hadron, I mean " "Dalla," Vall's wife corrected.
In case P.P.L. makes any trouble, they aren't here; they have faithfully joined their beloved master in his refuge on PolTerm. But one or both of them work for the Organization." "You're sure of that?" "The Organization is too thorough not to have had a spy in Salgath's household. It wasn't Zinganna, because she's volunteered to talk to us under narco-hyp. So who does that leave?"
The men who are running this are right on Home Time Line, many of them in positions of prominence, and if we can catch one of them and narco-hyp him, we can start a chain-reaction of disclosures all through this Slave Trust." "How are we going to get at these top men?" Tortha Karf wanted to know. "Advertise for them on telecast?" "They'll leave traces; they won't be able to avoid it.
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