He closed the door softly behind him and stepped into the dim, night-lit hallway. He almost bumped into a small figure crouching there and jerked away from it with a startled exclamation.
It was the little Centaurian waiter.
Haven grabbed the collar of his tunic. "All right," he said. "All right, you're just the man I'm looking for. What did you mean, glacier move?"
"Glacier move. You know. You know!" The Centaurian offered a tentative smile.
"No, damn you, I don't know!" Haven whispered furiously, dragging the Centaurian into the stairwell.
"Glacier on mine then. Glacier not on mine now. All city know."
"Then where is it?"
"Glacier is river of ice. Glacier flow. Glacier one, two miles from city now."
"That glacier?" demanded Haven, horrified at the thought that Drexell Tolliver's body was within a mile or two of five million people, even if they were Centaurians.
"That glacier, yes."