“What do you expect, motivational posters?” Laysa said. “Quit wasting time.”
At the end of the corridor was another door. This one, Laysa had told me, operated differently. It did not have an LVT security system on it. It had a voice-lock: not a biometric system, but pass-phrase activated. Said pass-phrase was another thing she had managed to ferret out of the bad guys’ databases.
Feeling a bit silly, I faced the door and said clearly, “The fog comes on little cat feet; the dog likes his little meat treat.”
The door slid open. That, I’d expected. What I hadn’t expected was to come face to face with a red-haired young woman in a white lab coat, looking at me wide-eyed. “Who are you?” she said.
“s**t,” Laysa said in my ear.
I drew myself up. “I was sent by—”
“Kipsis,” Laysa said.
“—Ki
