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open doorway, tall and wide enough for at least four people to walk abreast
through it.
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Only the hinged edges could be seen of the pair of heavy doors, swung back
inside, leaving the doorway itself unblocked except for the customary
invisible weather-shield that would be guarding the indoor climate against
that outside. Two pink-faced, healthy-looking young men of identical size, in
sky-blue uniforms with oversized la-pels edged in gold, stood one on either
side of the door-way and just inside it, looking out. A third young man, in
the same livery, turned and disappeared back into the club's dark interior, at
the sight of Bleys emerging from the limousine.
Bleys waited for Henry to organize his people from the second limousine and
bring them up behind Toni and him-self, so that they went in as a single
group. It was a small pause, but long enough for the young man to return,
along with a man in his late thirties or early forties, who wore a dark gray
business suit with similar oversized lapels. He
stopped and stood, stage-center in the middle of the door-way looking down at
Bleys and the rest of them as they began to mount the steps.
He towered over the doormen. In fact, he was plainly no more than a dozen
centimeters shorter than Bleys himself and wider in the body. He had a broad,
strongly-boned face and a mane of graying black hair mounted from his forehead
in a sweeping curve backward, matched by a heavy black handlebar mustache that
would have looked ridiculous on anyone not his size and bulk.
Everything about him the suit with the wide lapels on a body that was already
wide-shouldered and very strong looking, the mustache, the mane of hair was
clearly or-chestrated to give the impression of an overpowering, al-most
domineering figure of authority. But in this case, the half-frown with which
he had first stepped into the door-way faded into an uncertain look, as with
Bleys' steady mounting of the steps it became obvious that Bleys would loom
over him he who was clearly used to looming over others.
Bleys kept the smile inside himself hidden. He was used to a reaction from men
more than normally tall who sud-denly noticed he overtopped them. He merely
nodded gravely at the man as he reached the top of the steps.
The mustache and gray suit pulled itself back into some semblance of
authority. Plainly, he recognized who this guest must be.
"Bleys Ahrens! Honored to meet you, very honored!" he said. But then the smile
thinned as his eyes shifted to Toni and the men with Henry. He looked back at
Bleys. "I'm Walner Mathias, Club Manager. I've got you down for dinner in the
upper private dining room. But I'm sorry, my book's marked only for you, not
for anyone else with you."
"This lady with me," said Bleys, letting some of the long-trained power of his
voice roll out in the tone of someone who states an inarguable truth, "will be
with me at dinner. I'm sure you'll find my hosts agree. These others perhaps
you can find some side room for them.
They're students of mine, a few I allow to come with me from time to time, to
observe and learn. These six were lucky enough to be the ones I chose this
evening. We'll all come in."
The Manager hesitated.
"I'm sure you can find a place for my pupils," said Bleys. This time there was
the slightest edge of impatience to his voice an edge that could hardly be
said to verge on annoyance over the other man's hesitation, but hinted at it;
the way a distant roll of thunder below a horizon might threaten storm from a
sky presently cloudless.
Mathias hesitated only a second more. He was clearly uncomfortable, his only
choices other than accepting them being to directly refuse admission to Toni,
Henry and the rest or admit publicly that he had to consult Bleys' hosts, and
damage his obviously-valued appearance of ultimate authority in this place.
He chose to surrender, and led them all along a wide hall past a succession of
rooms half-filled with people sit-ting, reading, talking or drinking. The
furnishings seemed odd, as if a deliberate attempt had been made to make the
club look like something out of the historic past, the nine-teenth or possibly
twentieth century on Old Earth.
The furniture was all float-furniture, but this was about the only concession
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to modernity. Underfoot were rich in-dividual carpets in all sizes. These, the
paneling and the upholstery of the furniture were dark, as with age. Antique
floor lamps pretended to light the rooms with a yellowish glow, while actual
modern lighting supported this from the illuminated ceilings. Even with that,
it was dimmer here than Bleys would ever have expected to find in a
present-day New World building.
The hall led them at last to another pair of floor-to-ceiling doors, green
metal this time, that barred further passage. These, however, opened
automatically before the Manager; and when they passed through, they were
sud-denly in a totally different section of the building, com-pletely modern
in furnishing; and with full-spectrum Sirian daylight beaming upon them safely
now from three-
dimensional outdoor scenes, shown in viewing screens built like windows into
the walls on either side of the hall-way.
In another moment there were only three of them Bleys, Toni and Mathias.
Henry and the others had been conducted away by another blue-uniformed young
man.
Mathias led Bleys and Toni a small distance farther down this new section of
hall, then turned to face one of the wider screen-windows. It, and the wall
around it, slid aside to reveal an elevator with a fixed compartment wait-ing.
Clearly a private elevator, judging by the padded floats and tiny drinks-bar
the compartment contained. He led them into it. The wall closed behind them
and they went up.
The building was a tall one, and there was silence for several moments as they
rose. Mathias was sternly word-less; Toni, as was usual on occasions like
this, was simply being silent and giving out no signals whatsoever. Bleys was
immersed in his own thoughts. He had made a habit of keeping his plans to
himself unless it was necessary to tell even Toni and Dahno about them, and at
the moment there was nothing more to tell. He was thinking that one of the
things the CEOs at the dinner would try would be to buy him.
He had no intention of being bought. But he would get a much clearer picture
of what his position was on this planet, and therefore what his own bargaining
powers were, if he seemed to listen to their offers. They would probably
follow the timeworn method of donkey control, by first offering him the
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