Rhiannon looked up at him, his forehead plowed over with thought; then gradually a wide grin spread his lips. "We done it, didn't we?"
"We sure did."
Karrin's face was flattened at the cheeks. How the Patrol had known of this meeting he would never know, short of torturing each of his "cooperative men." Janus was gone. The briefcase was gone. The real Rebel boat was probably bright drifting dust somewhere between here and Llarn's moon. Karrin shivered.
Would the Patrol have his office covered? Had they known whom they were trapping? Or had the tip-off not mentioned names?
"One way to find out."
Rhiannon looked up vaguely. "What, sir?"
"Get us back to Llarn, Rhiannon. I've got to report this to the President."
The swirling salt of the nebula moved out of the port and vanished as the big man tailed the boat around and side-stepped it into hyper-space. Karrin stood with wet hands clasped at his back. My papers. My money. I'll get them and make a run for Rebel H.Q. Surely the tip had not implicated him or he would never have gotten off Llarn in the first place. The Patrol would have seen to that: they knew that so many things could go wrong out in space.
Such as, he thought with grim satisfaction, what had gone wrong.