"Morgan. This is Roberts."
"Morgan, you drive the truck down into that ravine, and Roberts will play hostage. Get it?"
"Behave, Al," pleaded Roberts.
"I will, but I think we'll get bumped anyway."
Morgan got into the truck and drove it slowly from the road, down through the trees, until they came to the Lancaster. Both men goggled at the ship parked there, and Farradyne, who had walked alongside with Roberts and Norma, let them look at it for a moment. Then he waved his gun. "Unload it," he said sharply.
It took them an hour to move the load from the truck to the ground, and Farradyne spent that hour in nervous watching. He could not trust them not to make a break, nor could he hope to explain. When the van was emptied, he faced Roberts against it and said, "Norma, tape Morgan's hands behind him; then Roberts'. Then we unload our cargo."
The two truckmen glowered as the conveyor belt came out of the cargo lock and the white hellflower blossoms tumbled along it to drop into the back of the van. Farradyne left them sitting there on the ground after the loading was finished. He and Norma went into the salon and he faced Brenner. "Better take this quietly," he said.
The radio made him pause:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the late news: the system-wide search for Charles Farradyne is hurrying to a close. Indications are now that the infamous love-lotus chief is hiding in the Lake Superior Region, and all forces are being hurried to that area to create the most leakproof dragnet in the history of man's man-hunts. A special session of the planning committee of the Solar Anti-Narcotic Department has been called to deal with the problem. Any information pertaining to Charles Farradyne may be delivered by picking up your telephone and calling Sand, One-thousand.