By Richard Barrett
Lawson headed for the Sky Marshall’s door and opened it. His attuned senses of a jungle cat caught that someone had been crouching at the door.
He turned the corner, and there was Yvonne, her shoulders slumped and her face guilty like a whipped cat.
Lawson’s eyes glinted.
“You know,” he said mocking disapproval. “ It’s very naughty to listen in at keyholes.”
Her gaze was downcast.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said quietly. “Is it true you’re leaving?” She turned her face toward him. It was distraught, desperate. “You’ve only just arrived…”
He looked upon her tenderly. She was slim and lithe. Innocent and helpless.
Lawson took her in his arms. Her blue eyes lit up.
“I have to requisition some things before I go,” he said. His blue eyes glinted. “I think we have time.”
Her smile beamed gleamingly.