They led him into this ship, and he lost the dog, so could not see just where they were taking him. Finally he sensed they were in a small room, and the adhesive was ripped from his face.
The leader and Panek stood in the small cabin with Hanlon.
"This is to be your cabin. Sorry for the precautions, but you can see why, I am sure. But if you behave, and make a good record, you won't have to ... uh ... worry about them any more. Take-off almost immediately, so we have to leave. 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."
"See you in four months, then," and the two left.
Hanlon stored his luggage in the racks made for it, then started to go outside and see what was going on. But the door was locked.
"They sure don't want me to know where we're going," he grinned ruefully as he sat down on the edge of his bunk. "That makes me know it's important, and I'll get it some day—they can't keep it from me forever."
Sirens screamed "take-off," and he strapped himself into his bunk. When he felt the pressure subside and knew they were in space he unstrapped and relaxed. But there was nothing he could do.