"There are traitors everywhere," said Wanbecq darkly. "Some of them, unfortunately, are in positions of power."
"They won't be for long," said Wanbecq-ai. "Look here, Mr. Durham, you're going to Nanta Dik with a message. We aren't the only ones who want to know what it is. Jubb has sent a darkbird for you. Take my advice. Tell us your message and go back to The Hub."
Susan said in a nasty muffled voice, "You're insane. Nobody would trust him with a message to the milkman. He lost his job because he couldn't be trusted."
Without rancor, Durham said, "You're absolutely right, darling. And wouldn't it be strangely fitting if that's why I got my job back again?" He said to the Wanbecqs, "Somebody tipped you off about me. Who?"
"We know him only as a friend of humanity."
"Somebody must have sent you here from Nanta Dik."
"On our world there are many friends of humanity. Think of them, Mr. Durham, when you kiss the Bitter Star."
The taxi slowed, strongly, smoothly. The blurred panorama of lights and ships became separable into individual shapes. Durham stared out ahead. There was the squat form of a freighter, ugly and immensely powerful, on a landing apron only partially lighted. The Margaretta K.
Durham asked, "Who owns her?"