"Shut the lock!" I yelled—but it was too late.
IV
They were in. All big monkeys with their helmets peeled back, and every one with a blaster in his hand you could put your thumb in. They came in fast and fanned out to cover the room in a way that showed they knew their business, and the muzzles of their weapons never wavered an inch. I looked at Betty. She was quite pale. It didn't matter about the lock. We couldn't have kept them out anyway.
I didn't have a chance to tell her so. The boss of the show spoke. "Over against the wall," he said. Quietly, but we went. It was that kind of voice. There was no tone to it, and not much volume. It reminded me of the noise we used to make by rubbing rocks together under water when we were kids. He grinned, exposing thirty or forty grayish teeth shaped like old-fashioned tombstones. His whole face was grayish and stony, with heavy brows and a thick jaw. The 20 cm blaster in his hand looked like a water pistol. I might have called it a slight case of acromegaly, but I was not interested in diagnosis at the moment. I was busy getting mad. That was easy enough with such a subject, but I didn't see what I was going to do about it.
He followed us over to the wall, walking slowly, not cautiously, but as if he knew there was no need to hurry.
"Where's the rest of the crew?" he asked. He looked at me.
"That's all there is," I said. "There isn't any more." I didn't see any use in lying to him, but I didn't see any use in telling him the truth, and I would sooner lie to him than not. That's the way I felt about it.
"Wise, huh?" he said. His expression didn't change. He didn't have any expression.