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"I think so." Now was not the time to hesitate. "Her name's Lisa Tambor."
The woman checked her directory, frowned. "I'm sorry, sir. No one using the
name Lisa Tambor works in the Newlin."
That would've been too easy, he told himself. "What about a man named Kemal
Tarragon?"
She checked her file. "Sorry, sir. Neither of those names rings a bell."
He started to describe Tarragon, switched instead to a more memorable image.
"The woman, Tambor, is a little taller than you. Extremely beautiful, dark
skin, very exotic look. Blue eyer." In this country of largely pallid
citizens, Lisa would stand out sharply. "Very large eyes, petite figure but
not skinny."
"I still don't recognize the name." The receptionist hesitated, "But I think I
may have seen the young lady you refer to."
Eric's hands tightened on the edge of the desk, bending the hard plastic.
Fortunately the woman didn't look down.
"She went upstairs with a Mr. Brostow. That would be Canal Imports, I think."
She consulted her list.
"Yes. You might inquire about her there."
"How do I find Canal Imports?"
"Twenty-eighth floor, suites sixteen through thirty."
"Mr. Brostow. Thank you very much, you've been a big help."
"You're welcome, sir. No trouble at all."
Eric moved toward the elevators, at the last instant thought better of it and
searched until he'd located the fire stairs. His brain worked feverishly as he
climbed. It was too much to hope that Lisa might be here, too much to think be
might get a break after everything that had happened. He'd expected to have to
find the man who'd eyed him in the hospital, then Tarragon or some highly
placed assistant, then Lisa.
But if she'd been brought to England, why not here? Why not this building? He
remembered how she'd obeyed Tarragon's order back in her codo in Nueva York.
Would she do the same if the confrontation was repeated? How could he be
certain of her reactions?
Then he was at the twenty-eighth floor and peering down a heavily carpeted
corridor. One or two severely clad business types crossed from one door to
another. From his position by the stairwell he could see the elevator access
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clearly. There were no signs of any guards.
As casually as possible, he stepped out into the corridor and began scanning
suite numbers. As soon as he reached sixteen he began querying receptionists.
None had heard of Lisa Tambor, but what had worked below worked equally well
on the twenty-eighth floor.
"I think I saw someone of that description, yes," said the young man behind
the narrow desk. "I was
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aar/Alan%20Dean%20Foster
%20-%20The%20I%20Inside.txt (109 of 165)19-2-2006 21:56:46
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20documenten/spaa
r/Alan%20Dean%20Foster%20-%20The%20I%20Inside.txt coming back from my lunch
break and-"
"Which suite?" Eric spoke more sharply than he intended, tried to soften it
with a smile.
"It's strange, you know. At the end of the hall there are two doors, one on
the left side, one on the right, and they're not marked. I think that's where
I saw her, coming out of one of those doors. I say it's strange because I
always assumed they led to storage rooms. You know, for janitorial equipment
and like that.
They're certainly not connected to any of Canal Imports' offices."
"Thank you," said Eric.
"I don't think you'll be able to get inside," the youth hastened to add.
"They're always locked." He smiled apologetically. "I know. I've tried myself,
out of curiosity."
"It's all right," Eric told him. "I know what I'm doing."
"Be careful," the man told him. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
"I know, but I have nine lives." He hurried to the end of the hallway.
As the receptionist had indicated, there were the two opposing, unmarked
doors. There was no sign of a buzzer or ringer, and the handgrip was set flush
with the surface of the plastic. No twist-proof door was going to stop him,
not now. He pushed and pulled sideways simultaneously. Metal protested loudly,
then gave with a snap.
He stepped inside, found himself in a narrow hall. As he walked he found
himself peering into empty offices. Once or twice individuals emerged, glanced
indifferently at him and vanished behind soundproofed doors.
He started trying the doors. When he intruded he excused himself with a quick
smile and a few words.
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