He’d have to go speak to Krishna.
Natalie answered the door in a pretty sun dress, combat boots, and a baseball hat. She eyed him warily.
“I’d like to speak to Krishna,” Alan said from under the hood of his poncho.
There was an awkward silence. Finally, Natalie said, “He’s not home.”
“I don’t believe you,” Alan said. “And it’s urgent, and I’m not in the mood to play around. Can you get Krishna for me, Natalie?”
“I told you,” she said, not meeting his eyes, “he’s not here.”
“That’s enough,” Alan said in his boss voice, his more-in-anger-than-in-sorrow voice. “Get him, Natalie. You don’t need to be in the middle of this—it’s not right for him to ask you to. Get him.”
Natalie closed the door and he heard the deadbolt turn. Is she going to fetch him, or is she locking me out?
He was on the verge of hammering the buzzer again, but he got his answer. Krishna opened the door and stepped onto the dripping porch, bulling Alan out with his chest.