Ken nodded. Barrack had certainly seen the man. He had actually brushed against him as he entered. But neither had given any sign of recognition.
“And don’t tell me,” Sandy said, “that they couldn’t recognize each other—not after they drove together for a couple of hundred miles.”
“Look,” Ken said. “Now Mr. Watch Crystal is going inside too.”
“Come on,” Sandy said.
They began to move toward the cafeteria.
A hasty glance through the wide plate-glass front of the big self-service restaurant assured them that it was very crowded.
“I think it’s safe to go in,” Ken muttered, “as long as we’re careful to keep out of their way.”
“This is the first time I ever went into a restaurant with my mind on something besides food,” Sandy said. “Go ahead. I’ll follow you in a minute. We’ll be less conspicuous that way. Meet you at the tray counter if the coast is clear.”
Inside the great brightly lighted room, rimmed with service counters, hundreds of men and women were milling around, intent on collecting a trayful of food or, if already laden with trays, on finding a vacant table where they could eat.
Ken stalled around at the tray counter, collecting an unnecessary amount of knives, forks, and spoons, until he caught Sandy’s eye on him. Then he moved on to the water fountain. Sandy shortly joined him there with his own tray and an assortment of cutlery.