Rufus, the psycho-historian, said, "I don't think I care to either."
"Nonsense!" exploded Mercedes. "There isn't anything in there. You can see for yourself. I'm going in."
"I think we should explore the city a bit further," Rufus protested. He glanced uneasily toward the helicopter. Basil and his helper were nowhere in sight.
Mercedes said, "Humph," gave her plump shoulders a shake, disappeared with short sturdy steps through the door.
"She shouldn't go in there alone," said Saxon starting after her. Ileth clung to his arm. "I'm coming along." They left the others standing huddled outside, watching them nervously.
The foyer was carpeted ankle deep in mauve. Life-like, three-dimensional photographs of actors and actresses in every conceivable costume from none at all to the cumbersome furs of Titan lined the walls.
The magnificent foyer gave the startling impression that just the moment before, crowds of theatre goers had been surging across it. Saxon could feel the hair lift on the back of his neck.
"Where's Mercedes?" asked Ileth in a small voice.
Saxon glanced around, realized that the anthropologist wasn't in the foyer. "She must have gone into the theatre." He lifted his voice, called, "Mercedes. Mercedes!"