"Not what you think," Lin said. "There's the Shangri-La ahead. We can have a couple of drinks there and something to eat. And we'll tell you all about it, though you won't believe a word."
It was almost two hours later. And four drinks later. "So you see why," Lin was saying while Phil stared at them with round eyes, "we don't know how long we have. Maybe—" He looked anxiously toward the gloom of the entrance across the room. "He could walk in during the next minute. I can't see why he doesn't. I know he knows where we are. I feel it."
"And you have this paper taped to your side under your shirt?" Phil said. "Let me see it."
"No!" Dorothy said.
"I've known Phil most of my life," Lin said. "He's all right. Anyway, you know the thing's indestructible on this plane."
Dorothy hesitated, then reluctantly nodded her agreement. Lin yanked the folded paper from under his shirt.
Phil took it, unfolded it curiously, and frowned at the strange typewritten characters on it.
"You say it's indestructible?" he asked after a moment.
"We tried to tear it, to burn it, and to cut it with the scissors," Lin said. "All it does is bend."