My skin was prickly and my palms moist. I could feel the blood pounding in my head.
The door to the police station was open. A short flight of stairs went up to another door that was closed. I did not ring the bell, but opened the door and stepped into the reception room.
The room was empty except for the uniformed policeman sitting at the radio bank on the other side of the railing with his back to me. He wore earphones.
As the door clicked shut, the policeman turned in his swivel chair to face me.
"Hello, Langston, we've been expecting you," he said.
It was Isaac Grogan.
I smiled and replied with calmness that amazed me:
"Yes, I daresay you have, Zan Matl Blekeke."
Maxwell and I were alone in the small, bare, brightly lighted but windowless room.