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Thousands of lights artfully concealed accentuated the beauty of those wonderful buildings, and Hanlon caught his breath in pleasure at his first sight of the marvelous square by night. He had thought it wonderful by day now he admitted without reservation that it was the most magnificent sight he had ever seen. He finally signalled a ground-cab New Athens had no slideways to go to the Bacchus.
He went briefly to the hotel, but there had been no calls for him. So he took a ground-cab to the cafe, which turned out to be a pretentious, garish one. Inside he made his way to that part of the long, busy bar presided over by a slim, blond man. Hanlon climbed onto a stool. "Gimme a good old Kentucky mint-julep, suh," he demanded, "an' be doggoned suah it's made right."
I had some there the other night." He watched carefully but there was no sign of suspicion; the leader did not even seem interested. Hanlon blanked the screen, got the list and money from Zeller, and walked out. The Bacchus did not stock Cola, so he took a ground-cab to the Golden Web. Pretending half-drunkenness, he walked in and ordered the case of drink from his colleague.
He hailed a ground-cab, which the two entered. Hanlon couldn't enjoy that evening. In the first place, he couldn't ditch all his drinks and he hated alcohol yet had to remain as sober as possible. Second, and most disturbing, was that horrible thing he had to do, and he knew it must be carefully planned.
The admiral looked surprised, then shivered. "The bees! I hadn't connected ...", his voice died away, and after another brief hesitation he left, while Hanlon slowly made his way outside, took a ground-cab, and was driven back to the hotel. About five the next morning Hanlon was awakened by the stealthy sound of a key in the lock of his hotel room door.
Instantly the five Corpsmen jumped back and, so ingrained was the training he had received, so did Hanlon, to come at salute as they saw a High Admiral climbing out of a ground-cab at the curb. Hanlon, instantly realizing he wasn't in uniform and was supposedly a discharged Corpsman, quickly dropped his salute and slouched truculently. "What's going on here!" the officer asked icily.
There was an air of mystery, of secretiveness, of intrigue, that could not help but be noticed by one as sensitive to emotion-impressions as SS Man George Hanlon. He got out of his ground-cab at the entrance of a great park in the center of the city, but directed the driver to take his luggage on to the hotel. Then Hanlon went in to sit on a bench beneath a beautiful, flowering ba'amba tree.
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