“I did.”
Lors whirled about, his eyes swinging against those of the husky blond in the dress suit who stood in the doorway of the cabin. Automatically, his hand dropped toward the pistol at his side, but the blond stopped him.
“Don’t bother with that, Lors,” he grinned. “I’m not about to draw.”
“Who are you,” Lors demanded.
“Here, I’m Cartwell, of the Secret Service. [p159] But actually I’m Firstspacer Nesso of the 6th. Terran Command.”
“You told her?” Lors asked, amazed.
The blond nodded. “I had to. I came here to check on Brice and found her ready to call the police because first Nolan had disappeared and then you had. I had to think of something to keep her quiet, and the only thing I could think of was the truth. I’m a lousy agent,” he added grinning.
Lors nodded and bit his lower lip. “How do things stand now?” He asked.
“Not too bad,” Cartwell told him. “I’ve made arrangements to have the wrecked ship hauled out of the area for study. This will be hush-hush for awhile, then left to dissolve of itself. Everyone will forget it...”
“What about Brice?”