"I couldn't sleep," said Gray amiably. "He was telling me bedtime stories." Jill Moulton was lovely, he couldn't deny that. Lovely, but not soft. She gave him an idea.
Moulton's jaw clamped. "Cut the comedy, Gray. Are you working for Caron of Mars?"
Caron of Mars, chairman of the board of the Interplanetary Prison Authority. Dio had mentioned him. Gray smiled in understanding. Caron [p. 61] of Mars had sent him, Gray, to Mercury. Caron of Mars was helping him, through Ward, to escape. Caron of Mars wanted Mercury for his own purposes—and he could have it.
"In a manner of speaking, Mr. Moulton," he said gravely, "Caron of Mars is working for me."
He caught Ward's sharp hiss of remonstrance. Then Jill Moulton stepped forward.
"Perhaps he doesn't understand what he's doing, Father." Her eyes met Gray's. "You want to escape, don't you?"
Gray studied her, grinning as the slow rose flushed her skin, the corners of her mouth tightening with anger.
"Go on," he said. "You have a nice voice."
Her eyes narrowed, but she held her temper.
"You must know what that would mean, Gray. There are thousands of veterans in the prisons now. Their offenses are mostly trivial, but the Prison Authority can't let them go, because they have no jobs, no homes, no money.