The door swung open, admitting a blast of frigid air. Commander Benson stepped in, his lips tight and hard, his eyes blazing. Brown, at the end of the chamber, swung around, a sudden, surprised tenseness in his attitude.
"I don't think you'll do any running out on me, Captain," Benson said.
Brown flashed Garth a glance. "Damn you," he half-whispered. He took a step forward, tigerishly menacing.
Benson pulled a gun from his pocket. "Don't move," he said. "Hold it—right there. I thought you'd given up that crazy idea you and Paula had, but apparently—" He shrugged. "Well, I'll have to put you and the girl under guard. No one in this outfit's heading for the Black Forest if I can help it."
Brown's hand hovered in midair.
"Don't try it," Benson said. "Keep your gun where it belongs. The sound of a shot wouldn't help you any." He stepped back, his mouth opening in a shout that would summon others.
Brown, at the other end of the truck, could not have reached him in time, but the Commander had forgotten or ignored Garth. That was a mistake. Garth was only a few feet from Benson, and he galvanized into unexpected action. He sprang, one hand clamping over the gun, the other, clenched, driving in a hard, short jab at Benson's chin.
There was strength in that punch, and it connected at the right point. Had Garth not been gripping the Commander's hand, the latter would have gone backward, out of the truck.
"Knockout!" Brown said tonelessly. He was suddenly beside Garth, yanking Benson forward. "Shut the door. Quick."