Stanton let Pelter and Crane precede him. He watched the metal stairs bending under the weight of the android, then glanced back across the chaos of the drinking area. The two men and two women who came in through the archway were little different from most of the rest of the clientele. They wore monofilament overalls and were shaking the rain from themselves. One woman was tall and had long black hair, and the other was a catadapt with reddish hair. The men both appeared quite normal stock humanity. They were armed, as many here were. All that gave them away was the fact that they did not look in their direction, at Mr. Crane. Just about every person in The Sharrow had clocked Mr. Crane before turning away again. The likes of Mr. Crane you did not often see. Also, the tall woman was classically beautiful and moved with uncommon grace. Stanton followed Crane and Pelter up the stairs.

At the back of the restaurant the four mercenaries were lounging in a private booth, with their attention directed toward the fight tank. Mennecken had on a virtual glove and face cup, and Dusache, sitting next to him, was laughing uproariously. But Stanton heard no sound from them until they entered the booth with its privacy field and he took a seat beside Pelter.

‘Arian,’ said Corlackis, ‘I see you now avail yourself of more visible technology.’ He studied Pelter’s face for a moment, then turned his attention to Mr. Crane. Crane had moved to one side of the booth and now stood perfectly still. ‘But do we really need that kind of hardware?’ he finished.

‘We do. Now, to business,’ said Pelter.

‘Let’s just wait on that,’ said Stanton, and watched the floating vendor that slid in through the field. The flat, thick tray had small lights glinting on its edge and two grab arms folded crablike underneath itself. It dropped until it was hovering just a couple of centimetres above the glasses on the table, its AG forcing spilt drink to slide about on the surface as if under an air blast. Its arms unfolded and took up two empty glasses, which it placed on top of itself. The obverse of its antigravity field stuck the glasses in place. From it issued a bored voice.

‘Orders?’ it asked.

‘I’ll have cool-ice,’ said Stanton, and looked at Pelter.

‘The same,’ said Pelter, his attention fixed firmly back.

‘Repeat order for you gentlemen?’ the vendor asked.

‘You bet,’ said Dusache.

The vendor rose into the air, then floated across to Mr. Crane, where it tilted, its lights moving frantically. Abruptly it shot away.

‘Clever machine,’ murmured Stanton, and then said, ‘Right, we are all here having a wonderful time and not one of us is going to notice the four who are just about to come up the stairs.’

‘What do you have?’ asked Corlackis.