Smeith beamed at the prospect of Cuff getting it in the neck. Gallegher caught his eye. There was a pleasant, jovial gleam in it, and somehow, it reminded Gallegher to offer his guests drinks. Even the commander accepted this time, turning from his finished visor call to take the glass Narcissus handed him.
“Your laboratory will be under guard,” he told Gallegher. “So you’ll have no further trouble.”
He drank, stood up, and shook Gallegher’s hand. “I must make my report. Good luck, and many thanks. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
He went out, after the two officers. Hopper, gulping his cocktail, said, “I ought to apologize. But it’s all water under the bridge, eh, old man?”
“Yeah,” Gallegher said. “You owe me some money.”
“Trench will mail you the check. And… uh… and—” His voice died away.
“Something?”
“N-nothing,” Hopper said, putting down his glass and turning green. “A little fresh air… urp!”
The door slammed behind him. Gallegher and Smeith eyed each other curiously.
“Odd,” Smeith said.