 Why did Jaro ask to meet Miss Webb?
Red Witch of Mercury By EMMETT McDOWELL Death was Jaro Moynahan's stock in trade, and every planet had known his touch. But now, on Mercury, he was selling his guns into the weirdest of all his exploits—gambling his life against the soft touch of a woman's lips. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1945. Without looking up, he said: "Have you spotted him?" "Here he is," she said to the pianist without moving her lips. The Mercurian, his yellow incurious eyes like two round topazes, sidled up. "So," said the red-head; "you have come. "I did not want to call you in, Jaro Moynahan." Jaro Moynahan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a fine duraweb handkerchief. The Mercurians worship him. I am to offer you ten thousand Earth notes to kill Karfial Hodes." Jaro Moynahan refilled their empty glasses. The girl started, glanced at the pianist, said with a shiver: "We can't locate Karfial Hodes. You've got to find him, Jaro. "Ah," said Jaro Moynahan; "so that's the way it is." One moment the garden was glowing in light, the next the hot black night swooped down on the revelers, pressing against their eyes like dark wool. Jaro Moynahan slipped sideways from the table. Across the table from Jaro there was the feel of movement; he could sense it. Jaro Moynahan sat quietly back down and poured himself another glass of Latonka. Peet controlled the Latonka trade for which there was a tremendous demand throughout the Universe. As the Mercurian started to leave, a thought struck Jaro. Only at night did they emerge to work their fields and ply their trades. If the girl had been abducted, only Mercurians could have engineered it in the dark; and the Mercurians were a clannish lot. Back on the narrow alley-like street Jaro Moynahan headed for his hostelry. Somewhere in those rat-runs was Karfial Hodes, the revolutionist, and the girl. They were never visible, but to his trained ears there came stealthy, revealing noises: the brush of cloth against the baked earth walls, the sly shuffle of a step. Jaro Moynahan In the East a sullen red glow stained the heavens like the reflection of a fire. With an oath, he set out again for his hostelry. Once back in his room, Jaro Moynahan stripped off his clothes, unbuckled a shoulder holster containing a compressed air slug gun, stepped under the shower.
 He wants to know what's really going on
 He doesn't have anyone else to talk to  He wants to know what's really going on  He wants her to be an assassin  He found her attractive