I cuffed him in the face with the flat of my hand. He winced and went livid white; his eyes bored into me. But he held firm.
He said: "Why—Nanette? Take your hands off me, young fellow!"
Alan eased up. He motioned me off. "We want Nanette, understand? We're desperate, Turber. If you balk I'll stab you now and have done. Understand?"
He said: "Yes." He managed a wry smile. "If I raise my voice I can bring a dozen of my men here in a minute."
"But we'll kill you first," said Alan.
He could not doubt it. He said: "All right—then let's be quiet. I'm no more anxious to die than you are." His poise was coming back. He was gauging us; his glance seemed roving the room. "What do you want?"
"Nanette," I said. "Where is she? The truth, damn you!"
I felt he was going to say in the aero.
Instead he said: "Down in the city, not far from here."
There was a local audiphone hanging on a hook near him. Alan said: "Order her up. Be quick! Give the order and have one man only bring her up."