I had no trouble getting an interview with Grogan. I'd known I wouldn't. It was a simple matter of calling his suite and telling the loose-mouthed, scar-cheeked "secretary" who answered that Earl Langston would like to make an appointment with Isaac Grogan for, say, 10:30.
"Grogan ain't seein' nobody," the secretary growled.
"Ask him," I said.
The face vanished and reappeared on the screen a few moments later. "Okay. Come up anytime you're ready."
"Fifteen minutes," I said, and replaced the mike.
I turned up the volume of the defense mech as high as it would go, and left it in my room when I left.
The same hideous secretary, with the loose jowels and the deep, livid scar on his right cheek, met me at the door of Grogan's suite.
"Th' boss'll see you in th' library," the bodyguard rumbled, and led me to the room. The door closed, but did not click behind me.
Isaac Grogan was slouched on a sofa, hands in his pockets, looking at the floor.
I stood for a moment, looking at him.