Colin shrugged. "Get him."
"Sergeant!" Banning called. "Sergeant, take five men...."
The room in which they put him was comfortable and secure. Very secure. The bed was firmly welded to the wall, the table bolted to the floor. There was nothing movable or detachable in the room.
The three microphones picked up little but the shuffle of feet; cameras dutifully imprinted on film the image of a man pacing restlessly back and forth, examining the fixtures of the room without apparent anxiety or curiosity.
"No trouble at all," Banning answered Colin's question. "He didn't even see the patrol. Spray shot of Somnol in the arm and that was it."
"He doesn't seem particularly upset," Colin mused, watching the screen on which the lean figure of Colonel Harkins paced.
"Nervous," Banning said.
"Not as badly as the situation would warrant. I don't think it's getting through to him. He's apathetic."
"How did he react to seeing his wife?" Banning asked.