"Won't you sit down, Mr. Murdock?" he repeated genially. "I was beginning to fear you'd never arrive."
The girl crossed silently to the door and bolted it.
Gavin's bewilderment gave way rapidly to caution. His pale blue eyes narrowed; his face hardened. He had been herded into the bar, he realized, like a horse into a corral.
"Sit down," urged the middle-aged man for the third time. "What'll you have?"
Gavin reached a decision. He sat down with his back to the wall so that he could keep both the door and the barmaid under observation and said, "Bourbon."
"Fetch the gentleman bourbon, Meg," said the middle-aged man in a pleasant voice.
The girl brought a bottle of Terran whiskey and a glass, placing them on the table before Gavin. She was a buxom blonde with hard, unsmiling blue eyes and hard, painted features. Her violet shorts fit too tight and she was wearing the sketchiest kind of halter around her full breasts.
Gavin poured himself a drink and waited.
"You're wondering, no doubt," began the middle-aged man, "how we knew who you were and the route you'd take." He smiled briefly. "We have our ways of knowing, Mr. Murdock. Let me assure you that, before we decided to approach you, we made a complete examination of your record. For instance, you were chief engineer of the Europa. That was vital. We had to have a man with a technical knowledge of space drives."