"I do." He looked at the quiet group around him. "We'll have to lay a trap—one that will get Leland Hale when he tries to steal that statue. And he'll try, believe me. I know Leland Hale."
The captain was right, as far as he went. Pity he didn't know Leland Hale a little better.
Leland Hale, smooth-shaven and black-haired, leaned back in a comfortable chair and blew a large smoke ring into the air. He watched it swirl in on itself and slowly dissolve into nothingness.
"Your Excellency," he said, "I must admit that your southern tobacco has more flavor than the milder northern type. This is an excellent cigar."
Hinrik Fonshliezen glared down his long, pointed nose at the big man in the overstuffed chair. "I'm glad you enjoy them, Mr. Hale," he said bitterly. "You may not get them in prison."
Hale glanced up mildly. "Prison? Oh, but I never go to prisons—at least, not for long. I'm allergic to them. They give me a pain—here." He patted his hip pocket.
"If I don't get that statue in time for the opening of our time capsule," said the State Portfolio coldly, "I will at least collect the not inconsiderable reward for your capture."
Leland Hale stood up leisurely and stepped toward the other man. He pointed a finger at Hinrik's face, stopping with the fingertip a scant eighth of an inch from the other's nose.
"Now, listen," he said softly, "I don't care for threats of that kind. Not that they bother me; they don't. But they make me suspicious of my confederates, and that makes me uncomfortable, and I don't like to be uncomfortable. Is that clear?"