"What's the idea then?"
"You ask too many questions," said the blond man.
"An' that's a fact," the other agreed.
Vickers' mouth set. He still thought he could take the two gunmen, but his curiosity had the best of him. He sank back in the cushions and waited.
The cab had gone about three kilometers when it pulled up at the curb.
"All right, Vickers," the blond man said; "here's where you get your answers."
He crawled out, straightened. The cab had stopped before a door of opaque blue plastic. Above it in letters of electric blue light was the inscription:
INTERNATIONAL SPY RING
INCORPORATED
Secrets Bought and Sold
Vickers stared at it in disbelief. There was just the plain blank door squeezed between a theatre on the right and a travel agency with posters of the Martian deserts in its windows on the left. The blue door was hard to focus on—like a slightly blurred picture. He opened his nictitating lids.
To his utter bewilderment, he found himself looking through the door into the theatre lobby. The blue door didn't lead anywhere. It wasn't even a door, he realized, but an illusion!