The phone chimed.
Mike went over to it, punched the switch, and said: “Gabriel speaking.”
No image formed on the screen. A voice said: “Sorry, wrong number.” There was a slight click, and the phone went dead. Mike shrugged and punched the cutoff. Sounded like a woman. He vaguely wished he could have seen her face.
Mike got up and walked back to his easy chair. He had no sooner sat down than the phone chimed again. Damn!
Up again. Back to the phone.
“Gabriel speaking.”
Again, no image formed.
“Look, lady,” Mike said, “why don’t you look up the number you want instead of bothering me?”
Suddenly there was an image. It was the face of an elderly man with a mild, reddish face, white hair, and a cold look in his pale blue eyes. It was Basil Wallingford, the Minister for Spatial Affairs.
He said: “Mike, I wasn’t aware that your position was such that you could afford to be rude to a Portfolio of the Earth Government.” His voice was flat, without either anger or humor.