I spread my feet a little. "I knew I was making enemies pretty fast," I said to him. "But I didn't know how strongly. Listen," I snapped, "I'll bet one thing never occurred to you."
He was taken back. You're not supposed to snarl at a guy who pokes a gun at you. In theory it gives him the edge of any conversation. "Huh?" he said.
"The only thing that lousy pop-gun of yours is good for is shooting people. I don't think you came here to shoot me. Now what can you do?"
"Clown," he growled. "Where's Renner?"
"In bed, if he has any sense," I decided. "Make up your mind. Whom do you want?"
"For Pete's sake," he said. "Grammar at a time like this!" He looked down at his gun, decided I was right, and stuck it in a shoulder holster. Then his wrist came up in front of his mouth and I recognized him. It was the man who had lounged near the building directory when I had come in. "Come ahead," he said into the mike.
I turned my back on him and stomped into my office. Let them follow me.
But only one man came in, a minute or so later. "Does it have to be so dark?" he asked politely.
"Rheostat's by your elbow," I said. He reached for it and turned on the ceiling, closing the door that cut us off from the waiting room.