Pete Jeffers grinned. “Comin’ right up, buddy-boy.”
He poured two more cups of coffee, spiked them from a small flask of brandy, and handed one to Mike. They drank in silence.
Fifteen minutes later, Mike the Angel was in the little office that Leda Crannon shared with Dr. Fitzhugh. She was alone.
“How’s the girl today?” he asked.
“Beat,” she said with a forced smile.
“You look beautiful,” he said. He wasn’t lying. She looked drawn and tired, but she still looked beautiful.
“Thanks, Mike. What can I do for you?”
Mike the Angel pulled up a chair and sat down. “Where’s Doc Fitz?”
“He’s still trying to get information out of Snookums. It’s a weird thing, Mike—a robot with a soul.”
“You don’t mind talking about it?”