 Why did the first policeman smirk at Brian’s door?
Brian Hanson looked disgustedly at Pete Brent, his lanky assistant. Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he stepped outside the research building. "What the devil—" He stopped abruptly at the sight of a policeman's uniform. Through the open door of his bedroom he could see his bed neatly turned down as it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger burning within him. "Wherethehell's who?" "Quit stallin', bud. Brian Hanson, Chief of Research for Venus Consolidated, as dignified as possible in a damp bathrobe, glared out through the bars at a slightly bewildered Pete Brent. All I want is to get out of here—" "Gotcha, chief," Brent whispered understandingly. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. I don't care if you are—" Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck and jam a rag over his nose and mouth. Another guard was caught and silenced as he came around the end of the corridor. Someone was outside his cell door, a hooded figure which seemed, somehow, familiar.
 He saw a woman in the bedroom.
 He recognized Brian as the boss of Venus Consolidated Research Organization.  He saw a woman in the bedroom.  He was sorry for getting Brian out of the bathtub.  He saw that Brian’s towel was open and not covering his body.