CLARION

31

"Mr. Personality," he commented.

Dorland made a noncommittal sound as he

crossed to the room's only window. Paul found the room as dull and lifeless as any typical business conference room: large wooden table with six chairs, neutral landscape holos on the walls, thin carpet. In one corner stood a potted plant with large, blue-veined leaves.

It took Paul a moment to realize what was

missing. There was no communications equipment

—not even a local intercom. At the same time he recalled the odd sound the door had made as it closed. An electronic lock? Suddenly the room seemed more like a jail cell than a conference room.

"We shouldn't have come here," he said. Dorland turned to lean against the wall, facing Paul with his arms folded across his chest. "Better to find out what they want and get it over with." The words came out with a heavy weariness that made Paul look more closely at Dorland. "What do they want—"

"I don't know," Dorland said with uncharacteristic abruptness. His eyes remained steady on Paul. Then Paul realized why Dorland was being cautious. It was possible—probable, he decided—that there were unseen eyes and ears in this room. Dorland pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. "How's your knee?"

"Bruised, but okay." Hanes had wrapped it with a cloth bandage to keep the swelling down, and a small white capsule reduced the pain to a dull ache. Paul hardly noticed it. He reached for another chair, then turned as the door behind him clicked open. Erich Frakes came in followed by another man, who wore a gray one-piece civilian suit and carried a slim brown attache case. Before Frakes could make introductions, the man swung the attache case up onto the table and held out his hand to Dorland.

32 William Greenleaf

"Parke Sabre. Don't get up." He shook Dorland's hand. "I've always admired your work. I wish we could have met under better circumstances." Sabre was a contrast in almost every way to Erich Frakes

—tall and slender, with sharp features and dark hair that was artfully arranged to disguise premature thinning. He spoke quickly in clipped Basic, his voice smooth and refined. He offered his hand perfunctorily to Paul. "You're Mr. Jurick?" Paul nodded. Sabre glided on before he could speak.

"I'm glad you could come, Mr. Jurick. I've heard quite a lot about you. I understand you were in the Guard. I'm always glad to meet someone who has served his people."

The casual statement jolted Paul. How much does he know about mef

Still grasping Paul's hand, Sabre began to edge him toward the open door. Erich Frakes waited there with his arms folded. "I'd like to ask Mr. Avery a few questions. It'll take only a few minutes. We have a visitors' lounge down the hall. Erich will help you find it. I'm sure you could use some refreshments."

"Thanks, no." Paul pulled free of Sabre's hand and sat down at the table beside Dorland. "I'll wait."

"Really, there's no. need—"

"I'd like to stay, if you don't mind." Sabre's smile faded. He stared at Paul a moment longer; then his eyes went to Dorland. He spoke with barely concealed irritation. "There are some personal aspects about this, Mr. Avery. Some of it concerns your past. It's up to you, of course." Paul felt a chill of apprehension. Some of it concerns your past.

Dorland said quietly: "I want Paul to stay."

"Fine, fine." Sabre jerked out a chair and sat down. Frakes cleared his throat and closed the