He left the landing stage and stepped within an indicated screener field. There was a long pause. The air up here, Walton thought, is fresh and clean, not like city air.
A voice said, "What is your business here?"
"I'm Walton, director of Popeek. I have an appointment with Security Head Martinez."
None of the obsequious _sirring_ and _pleasing_ Walton had grown accustomed to. In its way, the bluntness of address was as refreshing as the unpolluted air.
Walton's keen ears detected a gentle electronic whirr; he was being thoroughly scanned. After a moment the metal door before him rose silently into a hidden slot, and he found himself facing an inner door of burnished copper.
"Good morning, Director Walton. You're here for our interview?"
The inner door closed. This time, two chunky atomic cannons came barreling down to face him snout first. Walton flinched involuntarily, but a smiling Martinez stepped before them and greeted him. "Well, why are you here?"
"To see a prisoner of yours. My brother, Fred."
Martinez frowned and passed a delicate hand through his rumpled hair. "Seeing prisoners is positively forbidden, Mr. Walton. Seeing them in person, that is. I could arrange a closed-circuit video screening for you."
"Forbidden? But the man's here on my word alone. I--"
"Your powers, Mr. Walton, are still somewhat less than infinite. This is one rule we never have relaxed, and never will. The prisoners in the Keep are under constant security surveillance, and your presence in the cell block would undermine our entire system. Will video do?"
"I guess it'll have to," Walton said. He was not of a mind to argue now.
The little man led him down a dim corridor into a side room, one entire wall of which was an unlit video screen. "You'll have total privacy in here," Martinez assured him. He did things to a dial set in the right-hand wall, and murmured a few words. The screen began to glow.
"You can call me when you're through," Martinez said. He seemed to glide out of the room, leaving Walton alone with Fred.
The huge screen was like a window directly into Fred's cell. Walton met his brother's bitter gaze head on.
Fred looked demonic. His eyes were ringed by black shadows; his hair was uncombed, his heavy-featured face unwashed. He said, "Welcome to my palatial abode, dearest brother."