CHAPTER VIII
Dot's face was tense as she watched him. Doug held the delicate phone device to his ear with pressure that made his flesh white around it. He was oblivious to the wonder-like comforts of the beautiful home now, cursing it subconsciously as though it had been built for the sole purpose of trapping him, imprisoning him here.
The high-pitched signal in the receiver repeated evenly and he forced himself to wait. His fingers drummed an uneven tattoo on the low table, vibrated the dismantled parts of the tele-radio set that he'd examined earlier. The open pages of the catalogue from the Science Council library trembled in his left hand.
"Electrosupply, Federal Service Division," the voice said suddenly.
"Hail, this is Senior Quadrate Blair again."
"Hail, sir. Is there something unsatisfactory? The equipment you ordered should have arrived at your home—"
"It has, it is satisfactory. However I find that I neglected to request a high-speed bl—correction, high-kempage power-pack." He tried to steady the pages. The closely printed alphabetized lines kept running together.
"High-kempage power-pack? Your reference, sir?"
"Reference?" The veins on his throat stood out, but his voice was not a sudden bellow from indignation. "You forget my position! How soon may I expect the unit?"