The small, air-conditioned cell was clean, at least, and a far cry from those on Procyon V. There was even a low tablet on which to lie, and Jon sprawled himself out upon it. He wished, vaguely, that they hadn't separated him from the girl. She was a pretty thing—and, had brains. Between the two of them they might've figured a way out, but alone it was like beating your head against a carbonite wall.
He'd been as wrong as a man could get about the Solmen on Titan, all right. The security police who'd booked them and brought them here hadn't said much, but it took little enough intelligence to reason that the Tinker Flagship, having discovered that the tender wasn't to be overtaken, had simply broadcast an all-planets bulletin. He'd been a fool to put down at a regular spaceport. He'd just walked straight into it. And now it was simply a matter of waiting for either another tender or the Flagship itself to come and get them. He wasn't sure what would happen to Deanne, but for himself, a murder charge, surely.
That accounted for the cell they'd assigned him to. It was unlike the Proky jails in more ways than one; as escape-proof as the tomb itself. Kane even had the feeling that the cell was watching him.
He rolled over on his back, examined the rivetless steel ceiling with his eyes. And all the walls and the floor were the same, save for the tiny vents at the far edge of the ceiling for air circulation, and the almost microscopically fine lines in the near wall that outlined the foot-thick cell door.
He surveyed the walls, ceiling and floor again, and the only opening was the air duct, far too small for a man to crawl through, even without its solid looking louvres.
Suddenly, Kane remembered the ruse he had employed aboard the Flagship. Instantly he was on his feet. He hauled the pallet beneath the tiny grilled spot in the ceiling, and standing on it, was barely able to touch the louvres. The Solmen of Titan grew taller than those of Terra. He had stripped himself to the waist, and folded the firm fabric of his Cadtech tunic into a solid wad. Then held it against the air vent with all the strength of his fingers until his arms ached!
The cubicle grew stuffy, and sweat trickled maddeningly down across his bared ribs.
He relaxed the muscles of his arms just as a faint draft flitted across his back. The door was sliding silently open behind him!