Chandler?” said Charles, approaching his table.
"I'd like to see your kitchen,” he said.
"Certainly, Mr. Chandler. We're quite proud of our operation. If you'll come back tomorrow morning, I shall be happy to give you a tour."
"I'd like to see it right now."
"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Mr. Chandler,” answered Charles. “This is our busiest time of the day."
"That wasn't a request, Charles,” said Chandler.
Charles blinked at Chandler as his hand went meaningfully into a pocket.
"You're quite certain, Mr. Chandler?” he said, flustered.
"Quite."
"Might I ask why?"
"You might,” answered Chandler. “But it wouldn't do you any good.” He got to his feet. “Let's go."
"Please make no sudden or threatening movements,” said Charles. “We don't wish to alarm our members."
"Follow your own advice and we won't have any problems,” said Chandler.
Charles turned and headed off toward a short but broad corridor that led to the kitchen, then stopped before a door.
"Do you wish me to enter with you, Mr. Chandler?"
"No, that won't be necessary."
Charles turned and began walking away.
"And Charles?” Chandler called after him.
"Yes, Mr. Chandler?"
"Would I be correct in assuming that you plan to immediately summon either the police or a bouncer?"
"Absolutely not, Mr. Chandler."
"You're a lousy liar, Charles,” said Chandler. “But there are two things you should know."
"Sir?"
"If you send a bouncer after me, I'll kill him. And if you call the police, I'll charge the Green Diamond with attempted murder."
"I beg your pardon?” said Charles, genuinely surprised.
"Someone put a little something extra in my salad, Charles,” said Chandler. “If you don't want to call attention to yourself, just leave my plate where it is."
Charles stared at him for a long moment, then turned and walked back into the dining room.
As Chandler approached the door, it instantly slid back, revealing the interior of the kitchen to him. There were numerous stoves, grills, ranges, freezers, and refrigerators, and some six men and women and two Lodinites, all dressed in light green, were carefully tending the food, arranging it artistically on dishes, or setting it carefully onto trays for the waiters who kept brushing past him. None of them paid him the least attention.
Then he saw what he expected to see.
A man and a Blue Devil entered from an alcove, each bearing half a dozen salads. The man noticed Chandler, stared curiously at him for an instant, then shrugged and continued walking toward a large counter.
The Blue Devil took one look at Chandler, dropped its tray to the floor, and ran back into the alcove.
Chandler raced across the kitchen, ignoring the yells and protests from the staff, and entered the alcove. The alien wasn't there, but a door was just snapping shut, and as Chandler headed toward it the door slid open again.
He found himself in a dank, dimly-lit alley behind the building, and the Blue Devil was just disappearing around a corner. He immediately gave chase, and within a block had narrowed the gap between them from eighty yards to no more than forty.
Then the Blue Devil ducked around another corner. Chandler followed it, and suddenly found himself in a dead end, facing the wall of a large building with the Blue Devil nowhere in sight.
He came to a stop, withdrew his sonic pistol, and surveyed his surroundings. The alley led to a solid wall some twenty yards away, and there were no doors on any of the buildings. He looked up; there were no windows within reach. He walked along each wall; there were no alcoves where anything the size of a man or a Blue Devil could hide.
He walked back along the buildings that led to the dead end and stood there, trying to figure out where the Blue Devil could have hidden in the five seconds it had before he had turned the corner.
And then, as Port Samarkand moved overhead and cast its light down into the alley, he saw a manhole cover about ten feet
"I'd like to see your kitchen,” he said.
"Certainly, Mr. Chandler. We're quite proud of our operation. If you'll come back tomorrow morning, I shall be happy to give you a tour."
"I'd like to see it right now."
"I'm afraid that's out of the question, Mr. Chandler,” answered Charles. “This is our busiest time of the day."
"That wasn't a request, Charles,” said Chandler.
Charles blinked at Chandler as his hand went meaningfully into a pocket.
"You're quite certain, Mr. Chandler?” he said, flustered.
"Quite."
"Might I ask why?"
"You might,” answered Chandler. “But it wouldn't do you any good.” He got to his feet. “Let's go."
"Please make no sudden or threatening movements,” said Charles. “We don't wish to alarm our members."
"Follow your own advice and we won't have any problems,” said Chandler.
Charles turned and headed off toward a short but broad corridor that led to the kitchen, then stopped before a door.
"Do you wish me to enter with you, Mr. Chandler?"
"No, that won't be necessary."
Charles turned and began walking away.
"And Charles?” Chandler called after him.
"Yes, Mr. Chandler?"
"Would I be correct in assuming that you plan to immediately summon either the police or a bouncer?"
"Absolutely not, Mr. Chandler."
"You're a lousy liar, Charles,” said Chandler. “But there are two things you should know."
"Sir?"
"If you send a bouncer after me, I'll kill him. And if you call the police, I'll charge the Green Diamond with attempted murder."
"I beg your pardon?” said Charles, genuinely surprised.
"Someone put a little something extra in my salad, Charles,” said Chandler. “If you don't want to call attention to yourself, just leave my plate where it is."
Charles stared at him for a long moment, then turned and walked back into the dining room.
As Chandler approached the door, it instantly slid back, revealing the interior of the kitchen to him. There were numerous stoves, grills, ranges, freezers, and refrigerators, and some six men and women and two Lodinites, all dressed in light green, were carefully tending the food, arranging it artistically on dishes, or setting it carefully onto trays for the waiters who kept brushing past him. None of them paid him the least attention.
Then he saw what he expected to see.
A man and a Blue Devil entered from an alcove, each bearing half a dozen salads. The man noticed Chandler, stared curiously at him for an instant, then shrugged and continued walking toward a large counter.
The Blue Devil took one look at Chandler, dropped its tray to the floor, and ran back into the alcove.
Chandler raced across the kitchen, ignoring the yells and protests from the staff, and entered the alcove. The alien wasn't there, but a door was just snapping shut, and as Chandler headed toward it the door slid open again.
He found himself in a dank, dimly-lit alley behind the building, and the Blue Devil was just disappearing around a corner. He immediately gave chase, and within a block had narrowed the gap between them from eighty yards to no more than forty.
Then the Blue Devil ducked around another corner. Chandler followed it, and suddenly found himself in a dead end, facing the wall of a large building with the Blue Devil nowhere in sight.
He came to a stop, withdrew his sonic pistol, and surveyed his surroundings. The alley led to a solid wall some twenty yards away, and there were no doors on any of the buildings. He looked up; there were no windows within reach. He walked along each wall; there were no alcoves where anything the size of a man or a Blue Devil could hide.
He walked back along the buildings that led to the dead end and stood there, trying to figure out where the Blue Devil could have hidden in the five seconds it had before he had turned the corner.
And then, as Port Samarkand moved overhead and cast its light down into the alley, he saw a manhole cover about ten feet
Similar Books
