"You are sensible to confess," she said.
She bent down, unwisely.
Paul Asher felt the familiar tightening in his chest as he leaned forward. The click was barely heard.
He raised his hand and brought the edge of it down hard on the back of her neck.
She crumpled and fell to the metal floor. He noticed that a smear of her freshly-applied lipstick came off on it.
He pushed the unconscious body aside and fished the packet out from under the desk. He searched the room for another hiding place.
But it was too late. A section of wall opened and Hafitz, the fat man in the wheelchair, sped in.
He wheeled past the young man, looked briefly at the unconscious girl, then whisked himself around.
"You will pay for this, my friend," he said. "But first we will have the plans for the way-station. Where are they?"
"I don't know anything about any plans and I don't know anything about a way-station. I tried to tell the girl: it's all a crazy mistake."