Jakes laughed. “Now give me yours.”
Ronny got up and walked over to him and handed it over. As soon as the other man's hand touched it, the bronze lost its sheen.
Jakes handed it back. “See, it's tuned to you alone,” he said. “And mine is tuned to my code. Nobody can swipe a Section G badge and [pg 022] impersonate an agent. If anybody ever shows you a badge that doesn't have its sheen, you know he's a fake. Neat trick, eh?”
“Very neat,” Ronny admitted. He returned the other's gold badge. “Look, to get back to this Tommy Paine.”
But the red light flickered again and Jakes brought forth from the delivery drawer a hand gun complete with shoulder harness. “Nasty weapon,” he said. “But we'd better go on down to the armory and show you its workings.”
He stood up. “Oh, yes, don't let me forget to give you a communicator. A real gizmo. About as big as a woman's vanity case. Puts you in immediate contact with the nearest Section G office, no matter how near or far away it is. Or, if you wish, in contact with our offices here in the Octagon. Very neat trick.”
He led Ronny from his office and down the corridors beyond to an elevator. He said happily, “This is a crazy outfit, this Section G. You'll probably love it. Everybody does.”
Ronny learned to love Section G—in moderation.
He was initially taken aback by the existence of the organization at all. He'd known, of course, of the Department of Justice and even of the Bureau of Investigation, but Section G was hush-hush and not even United Planets publications ever mentioned it.