"Come on in quietly," the stranger said. "Put your hands on the tops of your heads and sit down on the bed over there."
The boys did so. They had no alternative. Rick's mind raced. Somehow they had to warn the scientists, and they had to get out from under the muzzles of the guns! What could these men want of them?
The stranger sat down on the other bed. His pistol muzzle was centered precisely on Rick's belt buckle. "We want information. Give it to us without any trouble and we'll go away. Give us a hard time and you'll regret it."
Rick studied the stranger. He was of medium height, dressed in tan slacks and sport shirt with a darker jacket. His face was ordinary. He might have been a store clerk, or streetcar conductor, or nearly anything. But Rick saw from the way his jacket fitted that he was powerfully built for his size, and his hands were lean and strong-looking. He had a heavy tan, as though he had spent many months in the sun.
"What do you want to know?" Scotty asked.
"Let's start with what you were saying when you walked in. Who is Barby?"
"My sister," Rick said. "She's at home, in New Jersey."
The stranger sighed. "I was afraid of this. Give us straight answers or you'll buy plenty of grief. Now, who is Barby? Who does he represent?"
"He told you," Scotty answered. "She's his sister."
The stranger tried a different tack. "How did you know where to swim today? Did Ames tell you?"