Web sat perfectly still for a long moment. Then he said swiftly, viciously:
"But why didn't it get me?"
The alien writhed on the couch.
"Your blood must be different. We thought you were a Galactic. Your body chemistry is unusual, your—your charge is different."
Once again Web sat in silence, trying to follow that. Galactic and different blood. But he wrenched his mind away. The sun would be up soon and he would have to be out of here quickly. He would need to know where their main base was. Then it was the army's turn. Although what could the army do?
He got the location out of the old man. It was surprisingly near to Chicago.
And the time of the first take-off, the first shipment, would be that night.
He rose to leave. Then he turned back to the old man.
He debated it for a moment, but saw nothing else possible. The old man knew who he was and where he was going, and what he knew. He could not leave the old man to warn the others. The old man knew that too, looked up at him and saved him the trouble.
He died just before Web's great hands reached him.