He was licked. Morehouse had given orders that he intended to keep. Hagen was to locate the reason why the Astarte had a faulty generator. Period. Or else.
This was time for the "or else" part of it. The thought passed Hagen's mind that not even an official investigation could uncover the truth at this late date. He had no chance where every man's hand was against him. And so—
The telephone interrupted his train of thought, and he got up to answer it. "Hagen?"
Steve said it was and then tried to identify the voice. It was a hoarse voice, half a coarse whisper and half an undertone which sounded like someone trying to disguise his voice—successfully.
"Hagen, d'ye want some dope on the Astarte?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm a friend. Look Hagen, if you want some dope on the Astarte come to Sanaron."
"What's on Sanaron?"
"The dope you want."