A click. A whir.
I drew a swift breath; eased the paragun from my waistband.
Again, a click. The vault-thick cylinder slid smoothly inward on its guides. Air hissed. The world outside the hatch took form, all dim and shadowy.
For a moment I waited, not breathing ... straining my ears for the slightest sound.
None came.
Cat-silent, now I clambered through the exit ... looked down the corridor beyond, with its gleaming ceracoid walls and emblazoned motif of FedGov Security insignia.
Still no one. Moving swiftly down the hall, I sought out the fifth of the row of shaft-lifts.
Soundlessly, it bore me upward. When it halted, I stepped out onto thick, rich veldrence carpeting, crossed to the far side of the alcove, and peered past the draperies into the larger room beyond.
Controller Alfred Kruze sat at his desk, alone, attention focused on a spinning reader-reel.
Shifting, I checked the other door, the one to Kruze's left.