"Uh-uh. It ain't as simple as that. I want your cargo. And I'm going to get it. Now let's be sensible. You know you don't have a chance."
"Maybe I've learned a few tricks."
The other snarled impatiently. "Okay, bright boy. I've had enough of this horseplay. I'm gonna let you see just the way things are.... Notice anything odd? Any peculiar noises aboard the Fleury?"
Brad cocked his head toward the stern. The complaining clanks and groans and off-beat thumpings maintained their steady rhythm. There were some new noises.
"I been listening to it get louder for the past three hours," Altman hinted.
Then Brad's ears picked it up—an erratic, excited clackety-clack-clackety-clack. He gasped.
Altman laughed. "That counter's setting up quite a sing-song, ain't it? I sorta think that pile might go boom in a few hours. But I'm hoping I can get your cargo aboard before then. You can come too if you want."
Brad swung swiftly and lurched for the passageway aft.
"Wish I was there to help you with the cad rod insertions," the laughing voice raced after him.