Joe was coolly efficient now. He pulled out the automatic, held it down below his knees and threw a shell into the barrel. He eased the hammer down, thumbed on the safety, stuck the weapon back in his belt and beneath the jacketlike garment he wore.
He said, "O.K. See you guys later." He left them and entered the building.
An elevator—he still wasn't used to their speed in this era—whooshed him to the penthouse duplex occupied by Citizen Howard Temple-Tracy.
There were two persons in the reception room but they left on Joe's arrival, without bothering to look at him more than glancingly.
He spotted the screen immediately and went over and stood before it.
The screen lit and revealed a heavy-set, dour of countenance man seated at a desk. He looked into Joe Prantera's face, scowled and said something.
Joe said, "Joseph Salviati-Prantera to interview Citizen Howard Temple-Tracy."
The other's shaggy eyebrows rose. "Indeed," he said. "In Amer-English?"
Joe nodded.
"Enter," the other said.