He flung the Mentorian cloak down on the table.
"This got me out of trouble—the hard way," he said. "I never wore one before and I never intend to again. I want to find Rupert Steele because he's my father!"
"Your father. And just how are you going to prove that exceptionally interesting statement?"
Without warning, Bart lost his temper.
"I don't care whether I prove it or not! You try proving something for a change, why don't you? If you know Rupert Steele, I don't have to prove who I am—just take a good look at me! Or so Briscoe told me—a man who called himself Briscoe, anyway. He gave me papers to travel under that name! I didn't ask for them, he shoved them into my hand. That Briscoe is dead." Bart struck his fist hard on the desk, bending over Raynor One angrily.
"He sent me to find a man named Raynor Three. But the only one I really care about finding is my father. Now you know as much as I do, how about giving me some information for a change?"
He ran out of breath and stood glaring down at Raynor One, fists clenched. Raynor One got up and said, quick, savage and quiet, "Did anyone see you come here?"
"Only the girl downstairs."
"How did you get through the Lhari? In that?" He moved his head at the Mentorian cloak.
Bart explained briefly, and Raynor One shook his head.