"Take off your hat," the marquis ordered.
Red doffed his baseball cap and smiled around his cigar.
"You do look like your photo in the hit file" the marquis acknowledged as Chadwick slipped over and tore the printout from the teeth of SPHINX. "So what are you doing here? That man has designs on your life "
"Well, yes-"
Across the room, at the point to which the shadow had lifted, there was an implosion. Writing desks. chairs, oriental rugs, drink carousels were sucked into a dark tornado, along with debris from the walls and ceiling, the remains of a large lunch, a stuffed leopard, an owl and the remains of a cat which had expired some time before in a curtained alcove. The curtains also swirled and were drawn into the vortex. The three men watched with interest, the tyrannosaurus less intelligently, as the door to a concealed refrigerator was torn off and its contents sucked in, along with the door.
The dark column grew, absorbing the mass of almost every loose item in the room. At some point in its progress, it began to emit a humming noise. This rose in pitch as it increased in volume.
"I take it this is not a local meteorological effect?" Red inquired. "Hardly," said Chadwick.
An enormous outline took shape within the mass. The humming noise ceased. A huge figure began to coalesce before them, giant wings outspread. It remained motionless until it had solidified to a point where there could be no doubt as to its nature.
It was almost the size of the tyrannosaurus, and, while roughly reptilian in appearance, this was of a highly stylized nature. Its coinlike scales ranged from gold on its breast to jet upon its back, running from copper through red down the length of its tail and back across the breadth of its great vanes. Its eyes were large and golden and lovely and disturbing to look upon. A small wisp of smoke curled upward from either nostril. It advanced two meters in a sudden movement and its neck snaked forward. Its voice was delicate,
strangely nasal, and accompanied by soft gray plumes, and it was neither Red nor Chadwick that it addressed.
"What have you done to this poor beast?" it asked.
The marquis shifted uneasily.
"Sir, or madam," he stated, "I am in phase with his nervous system and I can assure you that he feels no discomfort whatsoever. As a matter of fact, there is an implant in his pleasure center which, if you insist, I will stimulate so as to give him as much joy as the poor beast is capable of—"
"Enough!"
"Frazier? Dodd?" said Red.
"Yes," it replied. "But I am not addressing you now. It was Chadwick that I sought, and you have brought me to him. But first—" Flames rolled about its mouth, subsided. "It is an abomination to have wired this
handsome creature so!"
"I agree with you fully," said the marquis, "and I am pleased it was not I that did so."
"You have compounded the crime against his magnificent person! You manipulate him!"
"I assure you it is only a brief borrowing. My intentions—"
Chadwick seized Red's sleeve and tugged him along as he backed slowly toward the door.
"Your intentions be damned, sir! Release him and apologize to him!"
"I would do that at peril to my life!"
"Your life—and more—is already at peril! Release him!"
Chadwick edged the door open with his foot just as the tyrannosaurus bellowed and lunged toward the dragon, which sinuously avoided its charge. He sidled through, drew Red after him, pulled the door shut and locked it.
"You're parked out that way, aren't you?" Chadwick asked, gesturing.
''Yes."
"Come on! They could break out of there any minute."
As they hurried up the corridor, heavy crashing noises were heard and the floor shook.
"We'd best get this trip under way immediately" Chadwick remarked. "I had not anticipated an employee grievance at this time—or on this scale. We can stop for necessaries sometime else."
From behind them came a sound like an explosion a moment's silence, then a resumption of noisy activity. Glancing back, they saw a falling wall in the vicinity of the room from which they had fled. Smoke emerged and the air purifiers sucked it away.
Chadwick hit the door running, with Red close behind him. He immediately collided with a short man wearing a garish shirt, a lightweight kilt and blue sunglasses who had been advancing upon the door. Falling back, the man recovered his footing with amazing agility and reached for the camera case he wore slung over his left shoulder. "For the love of God! No!" cried Chadwick. As the camera came about. Red was beside the man. His left hand caught the strap and jerked, pulling him off balance again.
"Don't kill him!" Chadwick shouted. "The decade's off! I've sent the cancel order!"
"Him?" said the smaller man, drawing back as Red took away his camera. "Him? I've no intention of harming him. Ever! The game is over as far as I am concerned, too. My only reason for coming here was to tender my resignation by killing you. But now—" He turned toward Red. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to straighten things out. They're a lot straighter now. I don't believe that we've met..."
"We have, but I see that you do not recall. My name is Timyin Tin, and I have this thing about dragons. It is of a religious—"
A loud series of clumping noises, accompanied by shattering and tearing sounds from within the building, began a steady approach.
"In that case, stay right where you are," said Chadwick. "You are about to have a profound religious experience." He seized Red's arm. "Let's get the hell
out of here!"
He tore off down the stairs, leaving the smaller man standing bewildered before the door. Red stumbled along beside him, nodding toward the blue pickup truck beside which Timyin Tin's small black car stood, its engine idling. The truck's doors flew open upon their approach, and Red slid into the front seat behind the driver's wheel. The engine started as Chadwick got in beside him. The doors slammed and the vehicle began backing up.
"The Road," Red said.
"I never had labor problems before," Chadwick commented.
"Who's the kidnapee?" Flowers asked.
The wall around the building's door had begun to crumble. Timyin Tin had backed down the stairs. The truck turned and tore off up the street.
"Strange, yet not strange," Chadwick observed, "and well-timed."
One
Speeding down the Road under the big golden arch, Red lit his cigar and regarded his passenger from beneath the shadow of his cap's bill. Chadwick, decked in many colors, his thick fingers heavy with rings, still perspired from the run to the vehicle. Each time he moved, his programmed contour seat underwent a radical readjustment. As he shifted often, the seat suffered constant metamorphosis about him. He tapped his fingers. He looked out of the window. He glanced furtively at Red.
Red grinned back at him.
"You're out of shape, Chad," he commented.
"I know," said the other, lowering his eyes. "Disgusting, isn't it? Considering what I once was..." Then he smiled. "Can't say it wasn't fun doing it, though."
"Cigar?" Red suggested.
"Don't mind if I do."
He accepted it, lit it, turned suddenly and glared at Red.
"You, on the other hand," he said, gesturing with the fire, "are no longer as old as you once were. Do you wonder why I hate you?"
"Yes," said Red. "Outside of being out of shape and overweight and covered with paint, I'd say that you are very similar to the person I knew a long while ago. I believe that your condition and mine are much alike, only yours is masked."
Chadwick shook his head.
"Come on. Red! That can't be. Don't you think I'd know it—or my doctors would—if I were growing younger and stronger and healthier?"
"No. Whatever the process, I feel that in your case it has an awful lot to work against. With you, it's had to run just to stand still. For the life you've led, I'd say you're in remarkably good shape. Even with the finest medical care, anyone else would probably have been dead by now."