"You won't murder your own daughter, Director. This is a bluff. But mine isn't. She dies at nine-thirty unless you find her. I swear that by the Eternal Varga."
Mart cursed. Fists balled, he lunged toward the Venusian. Barrow put a hand on his arm. "Don't, Wells. That's up to the Interplanetary Council."
"But he's not bluffing," Mart raved. "Leah will surely die at nine-thirty. That damned oath. Varga. It's the only thing a Venusian is afraid of. He isn't—" His voice broke.
Corey started off with the Venusian.
Barrow said, "Yes, he's telling the truth. But we have some time yet. Maybe the search—"
Mart strode to the window and looked out so the others wouldn't see his face. Less than three-quarters of an hour to search all of Callisto within a radius of fifty miles!
Through the pane he saw figures in groups of three searching the streets and buildings of Comprotown. That part of the search wouldn't be difficult. But the hills and the caves, and with only two autogiros. If she was there, out of sight in one of the caves, where the cruising ships couldn't see her....
Her father was right, but—The picture of Leah Barrow, smiling as he had last seen her, seemed to blur out the view from the window. Her impertinent little tilted nose, the soft tempting contours of her lips, the deep blueness of her eyes.