The red light on the board snapped on and blinked. Russ reached out and slammed home the lever, twirled dials. It was only another passenger ship. They relaxed, but not too much.
I WONDER what he's up to,” said Russ.
Stutsman's car had stopped in the dock section of New York. Crumbling, rotting piers and old tumbledown warehouses, deserted and unused since the last ship sailed the ocean before giving way to air commerce, loomed darkly, like grim ghosts, in the darkness.
Stutsman had gotten out of the car and said: “Wait here."
"Yes, sir,” said the voice of the driver.
Stutsman strode away, down a dark street. The televisor kept pace with him and on the screen he could be seen as a darker shape moving among the shadows of that old, almost forgotten section of the Solar System's greatest city.
Another shadow detached itself from the darkness of the street, shuffled toward Stutsman.
"Sir,” said a whining voice, “I haven't eaten…"
There was a swift movement as Stutsman's stick lashed out, a thud as it connected with the second shadow's head. The shadow crumpled on the pavement. Stutsman strode on.
Greg sucked in his breath. “He isn't very sociable tonight."