"What are your plans?" he asked gravely.
"We've got to slip out of Ireland by sub or plane," the jaygee brooded. "We can't go to the New Portsmouth or Com-Surf organizations; they're Sociocrat, and Grinnel will have passed the word to the Sociocrats that you're out of control."
"What does that mean?"
"Death," the jaygee said.
XII
Commander Grinnel, after reporting formally, had gone straight to a joint. It wasn't until midnight that he got The Word, from a friendly O.N.I. lieutenant who had dropped into the house.
"What?" Grinnel roared. "Who is this woman? Where is she? Take me to her at once!"
"Commander!" the lieutenant said aghast. "I just got here!"
"You heard me, mister! At once!"