"How?"
"With your noses."
"What's gas smell like?"
"You don't know?"
"Sue me."
"It smells bad."
"Fart bad or skunk bad?"
"It smells like a butane lighter that won't light up."
Everyone understood that. "What do we do when we find it?" Pip wanted to know.
"There are intercom boards all over the basement.
Just hit the button and ask. I'll answer."
It sounded simple enough, especially since there were fourteen of them looking for the gas leak. They farmed out.
Chip Craft rode the elevator back to the fifteenth floor, feeling his shirt stuck to his skin.
He walked past his secretary without a glance. Her rig brown eyes followed him sadly.
Behind his desk, Chip said, "They're looking."
"Excellent."
''But what do we do with them after they find it?"
"Let's see if they can find it," said Friend.
" What did you have a gas line put in for?"
"Two reasons." "Yeah?"
"First because I determined that installing the line would lead to the destruction of a secret telephone cable."
"What secret telephone cable?"
"The one that connects my enemy Harold Smith to the White House."
"White House! What's the White House have to do with this?"
"When we attack the banking system, we will arouse the interest of the United States government. The White House will be very interested in what we do."
"Listen. I don't want the White House after me."
"You haven't heard the second reason."
"I'm not sure I want to," Chip admitted.
"I thought that might be your response."
The intercom buzzed and a voice asked, "Hey! White guy. We found it. We found the gas leak. What do we do now?"
"Ask them if they have enough light to see where the gas is coming from," Friend directed.
"Do you have enough light down there to find the exact spot?" Chip asked.
"No. We just got it cornered in this one empty room."
"Tell them to close the door," Friend instructed.
"Why?"
"Do it."
"Close the door," Chip said into the intercom.
"Just a second."
A moment later the voice came back and said, "Hey! I shut the door like you said, and the damn light went
out,"
Chip started to say something when he heard what sounded like his own voice saying, "Find the light switch,"
"How? It dark."
"Flick your Bic."
"No!" Chip screamed. "Don't! Don't flick any Bics!"
The boom could be heard fifteen floors below. Chip's eyes went wide. He reached out to steady himself against his desk and fell into it. His head poked out one end and his feet stuck out from the other.
"What—what happened?" he asked, climbing out of the holographic desk.
"They obeyed your instructions," explained Friend.
"But I didn't-"
"It was your voice."