Ninety-nine per cent of it, lets say. …That you are under the guns of a warship!Dont attempt to run, signal, take evasive action, or in any other way…Who are youand what the devil do you want? I spluttered into the mike. Dear Doctor Vulff digested all this as we waited for the copter to arrive, and from his sickening expression I saw he could find no flaws in the arrangements. I let my eyes roll in fear, looking around for a way to escapeand taking a peek at the outside scanners. The ride seemed to go on forever, but that was just subjective. Apparently he was a hunter, bringing his pelts to market after months of solitude and silence. There was no need for notes on thisthose figures were scratched inside my forehead in letters of fire. All my clothes nextand then the girdle in reversethat lovely paunch that straps around my belly and holds twenty kilos of lead mixed with thermite.