bulkheads around him, even in his sleep. Those shuttles are small, and they don't have ports."
"We can't help that. We need him, and I've got to talk to him first. Personally."
Mead bit his lip. "Yes, sir."
"Dave."
"Yes . . . Dave."
VII.
Dalish ud Klavan sat easily in his chair opposite Marlowe. He rested one digit on his notebook and waited.
"Ud Klavan," Marlowe said amiably, "you're undoubtedly aware by now that your opposite number on Dovenil has been charged with a civil crime and deported."
The Dovenilid nodded. "An unfortunate incident. One that I regret personally, and which I am sure my own people would much rather not have had happen."
"Naturally." Marlowe smiled. "I simply wanted to reassure you that this incident does not reflect on your own status in any way. We are investigating our representative, and will take appropriate action, but it seems quite clear that the fault is not with your people. We have already forwarded reparations and a note of apology to your government. As further reparation, I wish to assure you personally that we will cooperate with your personal observations in every possible way. If there is anything at all you wish to know—even what might, under ordinary conditions, be considered restricted information—just call on us."
Ud Klavan's crest stirred a fraction of an inch, and Marlowe chuckled inwardly. Well, even a brilliant spy might be forgiven an outward display of surprise under these circumstances.
The Dovenilid gave him a piercing look, but Marlowe presented a featureless facade of bulk.
The secretary chuckled in his mind once more. He doubted if ud Klavan could accept the hypothesis that Marlowe did not know he was a spy. But the Dovenilid must be a sorely confused being at this point.
"Thank you, Marlowe," he said finally. "I am most grateful, and I am sure my people will construe it as yet another sign of the Union's friendship."
"I hope so, ud Klavan," Marlowe replied. Having exchanged this last friendly lie, they went through the customary Dovenilid formula of leave-taking.
Marlowe slapped his interphone switch as soon as the alien was gone. "Uh . . . Mary, what's the latest on Holliday?"
"His shuttle lands at Idlewild in half an hour, sir."
"All right, get Mr. Mead. Have him meet me out front, and get an official car to take us to the field. I'll want somebody from Emigration to go with us. Call Idlewild and have
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