The Leader bowed.
But Johnny Damokles stepped into the picture.
"I take over first," he said. "I gots present for dam' blast Shelton Thurner." He leaned over the front of the rostrum and caught the big Neptunian spy by the coat collar. Timmy, guarding against any treacherous assault, kept his eyes on the Leader and the bomb.
"Holla, Meester Shelton Thurner," greeted the Greek, "You ask Johnny Damokles dam' fool question. You want sky-hook? Good! I gots sky-hook." From a capacious pocket of his space britches he drew a hook and a dangling length of chain. He tightened the collar and jabbed the hook through it. "Goombye, Meester No-goods!" he chortled. He jerked the rest of the chain from his pocket. A few scraps of treated impervium were hitched to its end. Light hit them. They shot aloft, dragging Thurner behind them like the tail of a crazy kite, and dangled high above the plain.
"How you like sky-hooks?" yelled the Greek.
Timmy laughed.
"I regret," said the Leader in a suavely courteous tone, "the loss of an aide. But tell me, how did you evolve this ingenious plan? Am I over-inquisitive?"
"The plan ... belongs to Johnny Damokles."
"Sure Mikes!" blurted the Greek. "She are old Greeks' story. You tell her, Timmy. My talk all mixed with sky-hooks!"
Timmy fingered his control board. "Long ago," he said, "a Greek king acquired excessive power through force. As a symbol of that force ... a sword dangled always above his head. By a hair. The king's name ... like that of my friend ... was Damocles. They call the story, The Sword of Damocles."