There was someone in the room and Sutton kept his eyelids down, kept his breathing slow.
Someone in the room, pacing quietly. Stopping now before the window to look out, moving over to the mantelpiece to stare at the painting of the forest brook. And in the stillness of the room, Sutton heard the laughing babble of the painted stream against the splashing of the fountain, heard the faint bird notes that came from the painted trees, imagined that even from the distance that he lay he could smell the forest mold and the cool, wet perfume of the moss that grew along the stream.
The person in the room crossed back again and sat down in a chair. He whistled a tune, almost inaudibly. A funny, little lilting tune that Sutton had not heard before.
Someone gave me a going over, Sutton told himself. Knocked me out fast, with gas or powder, then gave me an overhauling. I seem to remember some of it…hazy and far away. Lights that glowed and a probing at my brain. And I might have fought against it, but I knew it was no use. And, besides, they're welcome to anything they found. He hugged himself with a mental smugness. Yes, they're welcome to anything they pried out of my mind.
But they've found all they're going to find and they have gone away. They left someone to watch me and he still is in the room.
He stirred on the bed and opened his eyes, opened them slowly, kept them glazed and only partly focused.
The man rose from the chair and Sutton saw that he was dressed in white. He crossed the room and leaned above the bed.
"All right, now?" he asked.
Sutton raised a hand and passed it, bewildered, across his face.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I guess I am."
"You passed out," the man told him.
"Something I ate," said Sutton.
The man shook his head. "The trip, more than likely. It must have been a tough one."
"Yes," said Sutton. "Tough."
Go ahead, he thought. Go ahead and ask some more. Those are your instructions. Catch me while I'm groggy, pump me like a well. Go ahead and ask the questions and earn your lousy money.
But he was wrong.
The man straightened up.
"I think you'll be all right," he said. "If you aren't, call me. My card is on the mantel."
"Thanks, doctor," said Sutton.
He watched him walk across the room, waited until he heard the door click, then sat up in bed. His clothing lay in a pile in the center of the floor. His case? Yes, there it was, lying on a chair. Ransacked, no doubt, probably photostated.
Spy rays, too, more than likely. All over the room. Ears listening and eyes watching.
But who? he asked himself.
No one knew he was returning. No one could have known. Not even Adams. There was no way to know. There had been no way that he could let them know.
Funny.
Funny the way Davis at the spaceport had recognized his name and told a lie to cover up.
Funny the way Ferdinand pretended his suite had been kept for him for all these twenty years.
Funny, too, how Ferdinand had turned around and spoken, as if twenty years were nothing.
Organized, said Sutton. Clicking like a relay system. Set and waiting for me.
But why should anyone be waiting? No one knew when he'd be coming back. Or if he would come at all.
And even if someone did know, why go to all the trouble?
For they could not know, he thought…they could not know the thing I have, they could not even guess. Even if they did know I was coming back, incredible as it might be that they should know, even that would be more credible by a million times than that they should know the real reason for my coming.
And knowing, he said, they would not believe.
His eyes found the attaché case lying on the chair, and stared at it.
And knowing, he said again, they would not believe.
When they look the ship over, of course, they will do some wondering. Then there might be some excuse for the thing that happened. But they didn't have time to look at the ship. They didn't wait a minute. They were laying for me and they gave me the works from the second that I landed.
Davis shoved me into a teleport and grabbed his phone like mad. And Ferdinand knew that I was on the way, he knew he'd see me when he turned around. And the girl — the girl with the granite eyes?
Sutton got up and stretched. A bath and shave, first of all, he told himself. And then some clothes and breakfast. A visor call or two.
Don't act as if you've got the wind up, he warned himself. Act naturally. Pick your nose. Talk to yourself. Pinch out a blackhead. Scratch your back against a door casing. Act as if you think you are alone.
But be careful.
There is someone watching.