"And there he is right now," she commented dryly. "Mr. Kennedy, Personnel Director for Computer Research."
The Swami whirled around, his heavy robe following the movement in a practiced swirl. His liquid black eyes looked me over shrewdly, and he bowed toward me as he vaguely touched his chest, lips and forehead. I expected him to murmur, "Effendi," or "Bwana Sahib," or something, but he must have felt silence was more impressive.
I acknowledged his greeting by pulling down one corner of my mouth. Then I looked at his companion.
The young lieutenant was standing very straight, very stiff, and a flush of pink was starting up from his collar and spreading around his clenched jaws to leave a semicircle of white in front of his red ears.
"Who are you?" I asked the lieutenant.
"Lieutenant Murphy," he answered shortly, and managed to open his teeth a bare quarter of an inch for the words to come out. "Pentagon!" His light gray eyes pierced me to see if I were impressed.
I wasn't.
"Division of Matériel and Supply," he continued in staccato, as if he were imitating a machine gun.
I waited. It was obvious he wasn't through yet. He hesitated, and I could see his Adam's apple travel up above the knot of his tie and back down again as he swallowed. The pink flush deepened suddenly into brilliant red and spread all over his face.
"Poltergeist Section," he said defiantly.