In his room again, Brack lay with arms folded under his head, thinking honeyed thoughts. He would have Esther's pleasant company. His cargo was a valuable one. Two-thirds of the receipts on Hesdin-2 would represent sheer profit. Perhaps it would be enough to establish him in some kind of a local freight business. Esther could make a man a wonderful partner. Lovely, delectable girl!
He reminded himself that they were not safely away from Corbie yet, and he passed the remaining hours in the Hotel Eros sleeplessly anxious.
Brack delayed going to his ship until the last minute before takeoff time. Then, as he half-feared, he saw a customs officer standing beside the airlock.
The trucker tried taking the offensive. "Gosh, I'll be late for my convoy if I don't leave right away."
"Sorry, sir, but I'll have to inspect your ship." He was a burly, tough-looking character in pale green uniform, blocking the doorway with a flatfooted, wrestling stance.
Brack sensed that a contest of fists might not end in his favor. He unlocked the entrance and waved the official in with reluctance. "Take a look, but I've already gone through customs on Dryod-7. I can show you my clearance."
"This isn't customs exactly," said the man. "We're searching for a person."
"A person?" (The old man sure kept a close watch on his daughter.) "I'm the only person aboard this ship."
The customs official remained polite. "Yes, I understand that, sir. But Mr. Eros' daughter is missing. He thinks she may have stowed away on your ship."
"Impossible! I had the ship locked."