“The one they wanted. Thirteen. Why?”
“There isn’t any thirteenth floor. No thirteenth floor at all!”
The fat little elevator operator shrugged. “Look, Mr. Blake, I do my job. Someone says ‘thirteenth floor,’ I take ’em to the thirteenth floor. Someone says ‘twenty-first floor,’ I take ’em—”
Blake walked into the elevator. “Take me there,” he ordered.
“The twenty-first floor? Sure.”
“No, you—you—” Blake realized that the starter and the elevator operator were grinning at each other sympathetically. “Not the twenty-first floor,” he went on more calmly, “the thirteenth. Take me to the thirteenth floor.”
The operator worked his switch and the door moaned itself shut. They went up. All of the McGowan Building elevators were very slow, and Blake had no trouble reading the floor numbers through the little window in the elevator door.
…ten…eleven…twelve…fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…
They stopped. The elevator operator scratched his head with his visored cap. Blake glared at him triumphantly. They went down.
…fifteen…fourteen…twelve…eleven…ten…nine…