"You seem so sure."
"Not just sure. Certain." Don glanced at his watch, then frowned.
"We've lost a lot of time." His voice sharpened.
"Come on," he snapped. "My sportster will carry three people. Let's get out of here while we can still make it." He made shooing motions.
Waern moved toward the door, then turned.
"To the Morek?"
"That's right. Up to the Morek. We're going to start a feud."
Andrew Masterson looked at the handset approvingly. Little Mike was getting the idea. He was still just as fast as he'd ever been. He made a little noise in his throat, then spoke.
"Well, if you have any questions, Mr. Michaels, feel free to call us here. Thank you, and good-by."