He smiled, dinged the bell. A boy in tight green tunic and
trousers and a pillbox cap with a chin strap pushed through a door
beside the desk, took the key, led the way to the elevator. The fat man
entered. Through the openwork of the shaft Brett watched as the elevator
car rose, greasy cables trembling and swaying. He started back across
the lobby--and stopped dead.

A wet brown shape had appeared in the entrance. It flowed across the rug
to the bellhop. Face blank, the golem turned back to its door. Above,
Brett heard the elevator stop. Doors clashed. The clerk stood poised
behind the desk. The Gel hovered, then flowed away. The piano was silent
now. The lights burned, a soft glow, then winked out. Brett thought
about the fat man. He had seen him before ...

He went up the stairs. In the second floor corridor Brett felt his way
along in near-darkness, guided by the dim light coming through transoms.
He tried a door. It opened. He stepped into a large bedroom with a
double bed, an easy chair, a chest of drawers. He crossed the room,
looked out across an alley. Twenty feet away white curtains hung at
windows in a brick wall. There was nothing behind the windows.

There were sounds in the corridor. Brett dropped to the floor behind the
bed.

"All right, you two," a drunken voice bellowed. "And may all your
troubles be little ones." There was laughter, squeals, a dry clash of
beads flung against the door. A key grated. The door swung wide. Lights
blazed in the hall, silhouetting the figures of a man in black jacket
and trousers, a woman in a white bridal dress and veil, flowers in her
hand.

"Take care, Mel!"

"... do anything I wouldn't do!"

"... kiss the bride, now!"

The couple backed into the room, pushed the door shut, stood against it.
Brett crouched behind the bed, not breathing, waiting. The couple stood
at the door, in the dark, heads down ...

* * *

Brett stood, rounded the foot of the bed, approached the two unmoving
figures. The girl looked young, sleek, perfect-featured, with soft dark
hair. Her eyes were half-open; Brett caught a glint of light reflected
from the eyeball. The man was bronzed, broad-shouldered, his hair wavy
and blond. His lips were parted, showing even white teeth. The two
stood, not breathing, sightless eyes fixed on nothing.

Brett took the bouquet from the woman's hand. The flowers seemed
real--except that they had no perfume. He dropped them on the floo