"All right. Let's go."
We went. I have never in my life seen that long hall quite so empty as it was right then. No one came out of any of the apartments, no one emerged from any of the branch halls. We walked to my apartment. I thumbed the door open and we went inside.
Once the door was closed behind us, he visibly relaxed, sagging against the door, his gun hand hanging limp at his side, a nervous smile playing across his lips.
I looked at him, judging the distance between us, wondering if I could leap at him before he could bring the gun up again. But he must have read my intentions on my face. He straightened, shaking his head. He said, "Don't try it. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill anybody, but I will if I have to. We'll just wait here together until the hue and cry passes us. Then I'll tie you up, so you won't be able to sic your Army on me too soon, and I'll leave. If you don't try any silly heroics, nothing will happen to you."
"You'll never get away," I told him. "The whole Project is alerted."
"You let me worry about that," he said. He licked his lips. "You got any chico coffee?"
"Yes."
"Make me a cup. And don't get any bright ideas about dousing me with boiling water."
"I only have my day's allotment," I protested. "Just enough for two cups, lunch and dinner."
"Two cups is fine," he said. "One for each of us."