"Nice of you to let me sleep it out. How long have you been here?"
"Only a few minutes," he said. He glanced at his watch. "We'll have to be going in another fifteen."
"What do you want with me?" I said. "You blew up everything you were interested in."
"The Department wants to ask you a few questions."
"Look, I'm just a dumb guy," I whined. "I don't know nothing about all that stuff. I was just the guy that peddled it, see?"
He took a drag on his cigarette, squinted at me through the smoke. "You ran up an A average in college," he said, "including English."
"You boys really do your homework." I looked at the pistol. "I wonder if you'd really shoot me," I mused.
"I'll try to make the position clear," he said. "Just to avoid any unfortunate misunderstanding. My instructions are to bring you in, alive—if possible. If it appears that you may evade arrest ... or fall into the wrong hands, I'll be forced to use the gun."
I pulled my shoes on, thinking it over. My best chance to make a break was now, while there was only one watchdog. But I had a feeling he was telling the truth about shooting me. I had already seen the boys in action at the house.
He got up. "Let's step into the living room, Mr. Legion." I moved past him through the door. In the living room the clock on the mantel said eleven. I'd been asleep for five or six hours. Margareta ought to be getting back any minute....