Johnson had two secrets—one he knew and would die rather than reveal—and one he didn't know that meant to save him over his own dead body!
guard produced a blackjack and tapped the shot-filled leather in his palm. "It's our business to protect people like you from the natives, and if you insist, we'll use force."
"I don't insist, but I think you're being pretty high-handed."
"Your objection has been noted," the IC man said, "and will be included in the official report. Now come along or we'll be in the middle of a jurisdictional hassle when the native cops arrive. The corporation doesn't like hassles. They're bad for business."
* * * * *
The two IC men herded him into a waiting ground car and drove away. It was all done very smoothly, quietly and efficiently. The guards were good.
And so was the local detention room. It was clean, modern and--Albert noted wryly--virtually escape-proof. Albert was something of an expert on jails, and the thick steel bars, the force lock, and the spy cell in the ceiling won his grudging respect.
He sighed and sat down on the cot which was the room's sole article of furnit
Somewhat disappointing story of corporate evil on a habitable Anterian world with sentient reptiles. That would be okay except that a third sentient alien shows up alone (new race) from godknowswhere and the hero starts manifesting new superpowers.
I suppose it was just meant as a pulp action story, but how much suspension of disbelief can one story demand? The third alien is interesting, and the writing is workmanlike.