" He rose. "See you
when I get back."
Dalla had turned on the telescreen again; after tuning out a dance
orchestra and a comedy show, she got the image of an angry-faced man
in evening clothes.
"... And I'm going to demand a full investigation, as soon as Council
convenes tomorrow morning!" he was shouting. "This whole story is a
preposterous insult to the integrity of the entire Executive Council,
your elected representatives, and it shows the criminal lengths to
which this would-be dictator, Tortha Karf, and his jackal Verkan Vall
will go--"
"So long, jackal." Dalla called to him as he went out.
* * * * *
He spent the half-hour transposition to Police Terminal sleeping.
Paratime-transpositions and rocket-flights seemed to be his only
chance to get any sleep. He was still sleepy when he sat down in front
of the radio telescreen behind his duplicate of Tortha Karf's desk and
put through a call to Nharkan Equivalent. It was 0600 in India; the
Sector Regional Deputy Subchief who was holding down Ranthar Jard's
desk looked equally sleepy; he had a mug of coffee in front of him,
and a brown-paper cigarette in his mouth.
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