"All checked out, sir," Caan said.

"Good." Albright patted him on the shoulder patronizingly. "You turned out to be of some use to me, after all."

A huge shaft of lightning streaked eastward. "Yes, sir," Caan muttered.

Albright headed back for the shelter of the ship's interior. At the port, though, he hesitated and motioned to his copilot. "Come in out of the rain, at least," he said with a condescending smirk.

Caan obeyed. "Those sailors can take care of the ship. We'd only be in the way anyway. No one needs flyers in a storm, right?"

"I suppose not, sir."

"We might as well just sit this out over a game of gin."

"I don't play gin rummy, sir."

The Commander looked annoyed. "Well, sit down anyway," he ordered. He caught himself, and worked a tone of rich man's camaraderie into his voice. "We'll have coffee and discuss the price of grain, eh?" He chuckled and patted Caan on the back again.

Caan sat. Outside, the thunder rolled. He saw Albright glance quickly out the porthole, his brow furrowed, before returning his gaze to Caan with forced friendliness. The commander busied himself for a few minutes ordering coffee from the cook on duty. When the cups were placed in front of the two men, he rubbed his hands together in a parody of cheerful enthusiasm. "Well, then. Since you're not familiar with gin, how about a rubber of bridge? Nothing like bridge, I say, to bring out a man's powers of reason."

"I don't play bridge either, sir," Caan said levelly.

Albright looked dismayed. "Oh. Then—"

"Sir, did a strange man come to your quarters last night?" he blurted.

The commander's patrician features set hard. "What made you ask that?"