She tossed her head, stopped six feet short of Phil, took out a lipstick, looked straight ahead of her, and very carefully made up her lips. At the same time something cold and sucking closed on the fingers of Phil's left hand. He instinctively flipped it, and a tiny pink octopus sailed through the air toward the girl and flattened itself against something in the air about two feet short of her. Phil watched it clinging there and felt his mind swell to bursting, as if he'd had another shot of Tan Jet lemonade. Then he got up, walked cautiously forward, and felt. There was an invisible flat surface, extending as far as he could reach, between himself and the other half of the room. He realized he was on the viewing side of a one-way mirror bisecting the room. Dora, standing so close he could otherwise have touched her, turned, and as she did so, her skirt brushed the other side of the surface. He saw it was at least two inches from the side to which the octopus still clung. A mirror would hardly be that thick. It must consist of two panes probably with the space between them evacuated. For as he realized with a new surprise, he must not be hearing their voices directly, but a miked and transmitted version of them, which in turn must be binaural, so that they would be heard in depth and the proper direction. Confirming this, he noted that the voices did not localize quite as perfectly as they had seemed to before he had caught on to the illusion. Also, the depth effect was a bit too rich, as if the mikes were more than ears-distance apart. He also saw that all sources of illumination were beyond the panel. But now that he knew they were not ignoring him, but simply unaware of his presence, he felt very much the burglar and very uneasy. He looked nervously back along the corridor he'd traveled and ahead along its darker and straighter continuation that, also this side of the panel, led out of the room. He asked himself why Billig should have the setup arranged and the sound turned on so that he and Brimstine and Dora could be spied on. It didn't make sense. Although he was protected, Phil felt a shiver legging it up his spine. He might have left the spy chamber but at that moment Moe Brimstine put down a phone and said excitedly, "He's coming!" whereupon Billig at once stopped pacing and became as cool and unworried as dark tranquil water. He pointedly did not look at the archway beyond him, though Brimstine did. A man came through the archway and stopped. He held his spine and the expression of his face very straight. His hair was touched with gray and his face showed years of worry--but not Billig's kind. Billig looked at him with a questioning smile that barely stopped short of a smirk. He waited a moment and said softly, "Under the circumstances, I suppose you do not care to use your name, but--" "It's Dave Greeley," the other said bluntly.