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As he passed through the airlock and started down the plank, he was surprised and a bit dismayed to see Panek and two of the other gunmen he had seen in that back room, waiting for him, their faces impassive and unreadable. "A welcoming committee, eh?" he greeted them with a smile that tried to cover his disappointment. "Hiya, Panek! Hi, fellows!" But his heart was doing flip-flops.
These men were not here just because they were glad to see him, of that he was sure. He probed their minds and even before Panek spoke, he knew. "The boss sent us to bring you to see him first thing, the boss did," Panek's voice was gruff, yet somewhat friendly. "That's mighty nice of him," Hanlon tried not to let his feelings show, but to take this as a natural courtesy.
He said all this with such a deadly serious voice, that although it was bravado Panek could see it was also confidence. Hanlon had figured this straight-forwardness was his best bet. Tell his side of it first, for if he got in with them or any gang they would be sure to check, and would find out he had been a cadet, anyway.
"He brought only one man to see me, with the request that I present him a decoration. It was the scientist who devised the new drive, he said. A Professor Panek, I believe ..." "Panek?" Hanlon interrupted. "A heavy-set, ruddy-faced, red-headed man?" "Yes, that about describes him." "But Panek was only one of his gunmen," the young SS man was perplexed.
The leader sank back into his chair and was silent for long minutes, thinking deeply, while Hanlon waited patiently, still trying to get some glimmering of thought from that unreadable mind, still frustrated almost to the point of despair that he couldn't. Finally the man spoke, but not to Hanlon. "Panek, you and the others go find Rellos and bring him here."
There was something about a previous failure, and what would undoubtedly happen unless it was done now, but Hanlon couldn't get enough of that to make any sense to him. Again Panek began thinking, though very sketchily, about "Sime", as he called Simonides, and the "plot" that was being hatched there.
Safe flights, and I hope you make out all right." He looked fixedly at Hanlon for a long, long minute, and the young man, returned his gaze as steadily. "I'll do my job," Hanlon said honestly after that moment but it was his job for the Secret Service he meant. "Good-bye, and thanks. Thank you, too, Panek, for your help." "Glad to've done it, Pal, glad to."
It was some time before he fell asleep from sheer weariness, nor had he solved the problem before he did so. The moment he awoke, late the next morning, he knew he had the answer. His sub-conscious must have solved it for him while he slept. At brunch he kept his eyes open, and before too long Panek came into the dining room for his lunch.
Still no answer, no twitch of muscle, no movement of awareness. He shook the body a little, and raised his voice still more. "I demand an answer, George Hanlon! The truth drug must make you speak!" But only silence, and when he let go of the body it fell backward into the chair, and the head lolled forward as though the neck was broken. "Let me work on him, Boss," Panek pleaded.
She brought him a glass filled with a sparkling, golden liquid, and waited while he took his first appreciative sip. "We call it 'Golden Nectar'," she smiled. He smacked his lips. "Wonderful!" Then, as she started away he called her back. "Do you know a Mr. Panek? I was to meet him here, but I don't see him." Her eyes widened a bit at that name.
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