It took time to get the G-2 man taken care of and it was late when Tony reached the airport. Inquiry for Lieutenant Harris led him to a small, lonely office in the administration building. The Lieutenant was waiting impatiently, clad in a poorly fitting uniform and in equally as bad a temper. "You took your time," he snapped. "Have you got the stuff?"
"Yes." Tony indicated a bulge under his shirt.
"Let's go." Lieutenant Harris twisted his head around, looking for his cap. A muscle stood out on his neck and his right shoulder jumped nervously. Tony stared. He slowly canned the sloppy uniform down to a pair of pointed wing-tipped shoes. Non-regulation! This man was not an army officer.
Tony sent himself crashing out of the office and raced down the corridor. Behind him he heard a shout, then the pound of feet in pursuit.
A glass door let off the right and Tony plunged through. It brought him to the crowded main waiting room. Here he could get lost. And here too, was help, for at one side of the room, scanning the crowd was Sylvester Carter! Tony started towards him, edging through the million people, only to be cut off by a wave of disembarking passengers that pushed against him and crowded him back to the entrance through which he had come. Fighting the crowd, Tony threw a glance over his shoulder. The man who posed as Harris stood there. Waiting …
"... I thought I was done for then, but I grabbed a suitcase standing on the floor and the owner raised such a row it attracted everybody's attention. I apologized, said I had made a mistake and it went over. By the time the crowd had straightened out again I had lost the guy who impersonated Harris. I hopped a bus right to Washington."