"But who the hell did Andra know on the top?" Bob blurted. "She's given autographs to a few higher-ups, but—"
"It was Lloyd Bodger, Junior, Bob. They acted like old friends. Now do you see why I think it's unwise if she's contacted?"
Lennick suddenly surged from his chair and nearly tore the shirtfront from his visitor in an angry fist, as he yanked the other's face close to his own. "You can't mean that about Andra, Frank. You know her! You've worked with her—And I ... I know her better than anyone, Frank. She's not a traitor. She wouldn't betray us."
"I wish," said Frank, calmly ignoring the enraged aspect of Lennick's attitude, "you'd put your heart back where it belongs and think it over just once with your brains...."
Bright beads of moisture suddenly appeared in Lennick's eyes, and he released his grasp of the other man's shirt and sank down into his chair, burying his face upon his arms. "There's an explanation," he mumbled into the blotter. "I know there is. She wouldn't—" he lifted his head, suddenly hopeful. "Frank, we're still here! If she told all she knew, we'd be atomized by now, right?"
Frank looked uncertain. "Maybe. At least—It's a point in her favor. I don't know. You've got me shook, now." He sat back down and pondered, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "If she isn't hollering for the Goons—What's she doing with Junior? A guy like that doesn't take perfect strangers up to his place, does he?"
"I don't believe that part at all," said Lennick. "She may've gotten off before he did."
"The indicator went right on up without stopping. My witness'll swear to it. Right to top level, just before Ultrablack."
"Maybe she's under arrest, going for questioning," Lennick parried weakly. "It could be, you know."