"Yeah, an' I didn't like it," replied the operator. "What does that leave us ... no elevators, no stairs ... how about the helicopter roof?" "You have to walk up a flight of stairs to get there," said Westervelt, thinking of the department's three helicopters garaged on their private tower roof. "It's the same door. I suppose the door at the top is frozen too." "Well, anyway, that could be worse," said Joe. "That makes two doors to knock open, an' I bet your boys have some little gadget around that will do that." Westervelt felt better. There was always a way out, he told himself. Just the same, he thought he had better let Smith know about the situation. He told Joe where he was going and headed back up the hall. When he reached the corner, he tried the door again for luck. The luck was the same. He wondered whether to go look in the lab for some burning tool. On second thought, he decided that if any damage had to be done to the building, it was not his responsibility. He turned to enter the main office, flashing Pauline a wink that he hoped would look reassuring. Simonetta was busy with a case folder but Beryl was seizing an opportunity to repair her nail polish of irridescent gold. She eyed him curiously as he bent over to whisper into the brunette's ear. "Are they still talking in there, Si?" he asked. She drew away with a mock frown, demanding, "What's so confidential? Are you spying for Yoleen?" Westervelt scowled over her head out the window. It was twilight outside, and he noted that there were only a few dim lights in nearby tall buildings. "I just wanted to see Mr. Smith," he forced himself to say. "Don't tell me that you want to go home, now that you got all the rest of us to say we'd stay?" She softened when she saw that he had no wisecrack in readiness. "You know I didn't mean that, Willie," she said. "Is something the matter?" Of all the people in the department, Simonetta was the one he found it easiest to confide in. He had to struggle with himself, especially since he saw no reason why she should not know. "I ... uh ... just wanted to see him a minute," he said lamely. "I'll come back later." He got out of the office, feeling his neck burn under the combined stares of the two girls. In the corridor, he halted to survey the sealed-off means of egress. Both the elevator and the stairway door looked normal enough except for the red exit light being dark. Westervelt wondered if it would be smart to go around and adjust all the window filters so that no one would expect to see many city lights should they happen to glance outside. He went over to the door for one last examination, wishing that it were a hinged type instead of sliding. While he was bending to peep at the lock, he heard a sound behind him and leaped up guiltily. Smith stood six feet away, outside the hall door of his office. He had planted one fist on his hip and was running the other hand through his rumpled hair as he gaped at Westervelt.